CityGirl

I really like the young boys that I teach. 

This has nothing to do with the fact that quite a few of them are so cute, that I find myself wishing that I was twenty years younger.

Nah, this isn’t going to be a lust-filled post where I admit to harbouring inappropriate thoughts about my charge.

I’m just so filled with hope when I talk with them. 

With all this talk of male marginalization and the fact that the universities are reporting that the boy-girl ratio of enrolment continues to be really low, it’s a wonderful thing to see them so interested in school work.

Of course I’m not saying they’re perfect.   Oh no!  They’re the typical  caribbean young males, mischievous and loud sometimes and projecting the expected machismo behavior when among their peers.   

I’ve discovered that despite the bandana tied around the head, the baggy jeans that threaten to trip them up, the occassional carving in the head, the self-assured swagger, they’re really pussy-cats when you talk to them on a one and one. 

I recently gave them an exam and even though most of them passed with a decent grade, they were a few who didn’t do as well as they should.  It was quite a satisfying to see them coming to me, requesting that I go through the questions, expressing concern about their grades and showing signs of distress, vowing that they’re going to do well in the next exam.

This experience has also confirmed that being the tactile person that I am, I wouldn’t last very long in the US educational system that frowns on any action remotely resembling displays of affection.   I couldn’t help thinking that this evening as I reassuring pat(or was it rubbing?)  a few of them on their shoulders.

What I find quite fascinating is that even though there are females in the class who didn’t do as well as expected, they didn’t seem overly concerned.  It was the boys who crowded around my desk,  jostling each other for a chance to discuss their grades, banging their heads even as they ask “Miss, is what kind of grade that?  Oh Jeez, I need to resit the exam!”

My cynical male friends have basically come to the conclusion that it’s the not grades they’re interested in, but a chance to get close to the lecturer.   I can’t quite discount that theory since a few bold ones have made ’soft advances’ - calling me up to ask about some aspect of the course only to cheekily end the conversation by telling me how ’sexy’ I look. 

So hard being a hot older female!  It’s a burden I’m willing to bear if it results in our boys passing exams.

It has been so difficult to post recently even though I badly wanted to.    This is due to a combination of exhaustion and lack of inspiration.  

I recently started teaching a business course at one of our Universities and even though it is only once per week, it has been exhausting.   I like it though.  I’ve always loved interacting with young people and it’s just fascinating being on the other side of the education divide.   You know, the one setting the exams instead of sitting them.

The last few weeks have really been fraught with disappointment, frustration,  and indecision about future.  

Well, the disappointment and frustration comes from it appearing that I won’t be able to move into my new apartment for Christmas.  I was really looking forward to that.  The developers pissed me off so much.  I’ve been waiting for more than a year on the apartment to finish.  I still can’t believe that they’re dragging their feet on it.  What concerns me is that I suspect that they’ve run out of money and believe me that thought is not a comforting one.    I really can’t see how else to explain what seems like a lack of committment.  The good thing is that work has not stalled - even though at the snail-pace they’re going, it might as well be. 

Then I’ve been thinking about my next career move.   When I first started this job,  I had put a 2-year timeline on it.  Then I thought about extending it to 3 years after I started working on some interesting projects.  Well, now that the interesting projects have dried up, I’m back to my orginal timeline, which means come April 2008 I should be in a different job or close to being so. 

I’ve been looking on positions overseas, mainly Cayman Island and Bermuda.   I was really leaning towards Bermuda, had even signed up with an agent and have been receiving notifications of vacant positions.  Since last week however, I’ve been thinking maybe I should really try Cayman Island.  I see Digicel with some positions in Trinidad but I don’t think I’m very interested in living in Trinidad.   

Decisions, decisions.    Oh well.

YES!!!!!!!  YES!!!!!  Thank you Veronica, thank you for lifting the spirits of all Jamaicans.  That’s how it is done.   I wonder if I was the only person standing in front of the television set with tears streaming down face. 

This victory is important in several ways.  We have come close multiple times but we have never won a 100m Gold in either the World Championship or Olympic games.  What’s more, we have had Jamaican/USA photo finish before but it’s usually the American athlete who’s declared the gold medallist. 

All hail Veronica, the true Champion!

I certainly did not see the disappointment that I suffered this morning coming.  I was set up!  Watching him go through the rounds, looking easy and relaxed.  Then watching Tyson putting much effort into his rounds, I was sure that Jamaica would have been rejoicing now at winning the 100m Men Gold medal.

I did not see this coming.   I wanted him to silence the critics.  Those naysayers (can we still refer to them as that?) who said that he can’t do the rounds, he doesn’t perform when it matters, that a great runner doesn’t just break the record but also collects medals from big events like World Championship and Olympics.  I was looking forward to the euphoria that I expected to sweep the country, even in the aftermath of Hurricane Dean. 

It wasn’t supposed to even to be close.  It was going to be a definitive win I thought.   Oh, we have this in the bag.   I was right, it wasn’t even close but it was certainly not the result that I anticipated.

It certainly put a cloud over my Negril weekend.  I felt like going back into my bed just so that I could wake up back and be told you were dreaming, the race hasn’t been run.

I am disappointed.  Jamaica is disappointed.   This is one bronze medal that the country is not happy to receive.  We might as well not get any.    A silver medal resulting from the most anticipated clash of the year would have been disappointing anyway you spin it.   A bronze is just vexing. 

I won’t watch the Olympic Men 100m event next year.  I’ll spare myself the anxiety.  I know he has done well, running sub 10seconds several times, equalling his own world record twice but tonight I’m in no mood to be understanding and appreciative of his previous performance.

This is the result we expected:  

It It actually feels wrong to complain about the ‘agony’ of waiting 4 days to get back electricity just so that I can watch tv and surf the net.  Afterall, there are people who survived the hurricane and are still trying to figure out where they are going to live.  I’ll just be thankful that neither myself or any loved one has suffered more than some leakage.

I’m now almost reluctant to leave this apartment and move into my new place when it is finally completed.   I have a special connection with this apartment now.  This is the second hurricane that we have undergone together without a scratch.  I am luckier than most.   After both hurricanes, Ivan in 2004 and then Dean last week, the only thing that was necessary for me to do was just to open my door and let in some fresh air.  No leaks, no water blowing in.   Nothing.  Oh yes, I had to throw away all the spoilt food.

These people in the pictures above weren’t so lucky.  The day after the hurricane, along with the rest of Kingston, I went over to Caribbean Terrace, a little seaside residential community nearby Harbour View to look on the wreckage that Hurricane Dean left in its wake.   It was even worse than what Hurricane Ivan did in 2004.   There was actually a couple in the red vehicle when it was thrown against the fence by the waves/wind.  I understand that they were trying to drive away from the house after the water started coming in. 

Actually I didn’t find the hurricane as bad as in 2004 with Ivan and that’s mainly because it hit during the day.  Hearing the wind howl and whistle in the pitch black night is 10 times more frightening.   I got a little frightened when I couldn’t reach my grandmother by phone after a point.  It turned out that a tamarind tree had fallen on the phone line temporarily affecting her service. 

I’m still trying to figure out how this palm tree ended up in this woman’s living room.   Notice all the sand inside?

One thing can be said about a hurricane (I still can’t remember if it should be ‘a’ or ‘an’ hurricane - what did they teach me in English class?) is that it certainly calls for creativity in finding ways to entertain oneself in the absence of internet and cable television.   No wonder there’s usually a proliferation (so I heard) of babies 9 months after an hurricane. 

So after spending one night taking pictures of my bare nipple in the darkness and the pattern that the flashlight made on the ceiling I decided to step up the entertainment the next night.  So armed with radio and flashlights, two girlfriends and I sat on the steps of my next door neighbor/close friend ’s apartment, drank Bailey Irish Creme and sang off-key to the wonderful love songs of the 80’s until past midnight, when half drunk we stumbled over to our respective homes, happy we didn’t have to spend another night shining our flashlights into the ceiling.

I didn’t even remember that listening to the radio was so nice.  We were reminded by Luthor Vandross, Jeffery Osborne and Michael McDonald that the love songs of the 80’s still reign supreme.  

We were also delighted to see that the moon was out.   And we looked in wonderment at the stars in the sky.  These are things that we normally don’t take note of.

We enjoyed ourselves thoroughly.  I’m sure the neighbors didn’t.

Footnote:

Thank you guys for all your prayers and good wishes.  Man that was one powerful prayer by Michele :)    Hey Kat, I’m still alive :) I hope the Jamaica bloggers didn’t suffer too much.   I tried to get in a post before now.  I went in to work one morning very early with the intention of posting but it turned out that the generator chipped out that morning so I had to wait until electricity returned at home. 

So I’m here lying in air-conditioned comfort, snacking on pringles while cooking curried chicken and rice while I await one of the deadliest hurricane to hit Jamaica to make landfall. 

I might as well enjoy the air-condition while I have it since Jamaica Public Service, the local electricity company has advised that it will be cutting off electricity at 10:00am tomorrow.  

Tomorrow morning I’ll have breakfast of fried plantains, scrambled eggs and the last of the bacon.  I’m trying to use up all the meat in the house rather than have them spoil in the fridge if there’s no electricity.  The curry chicken meal is for tomorrow’s dinner.

Hurricane Dean.  It’s expected to be a monster of an hurricane (Does one say ‘an’ hurricane or ‘a’ hurricane?  I can’t remember right now).  They say it’s going to be a category 5 by the time it hits Jamaica tomorrow.   Normally I find hurricane exciting, but that’s quite frightening. 

I’m not worried for me since I feel pretty safe where I am on the ground floor of my apartment building.  I haven’t even placed any tapes on the windows.   My mother spent the first day of her vacation here in Jamaica scrubbing off the tape marks that remained from Hurricane Ivan and I’m quite reluctant to mess up the windows again.  Especially since I have no intention of doing it myself and would more than likely pay someone to do it for me.

I’m actually very concerned about the effect on other’s whose residences aren’t as sturdy and the overall impact on the country’s resources.    I just know that Dean is going to leave a trail of destruction in its wake and that’s just so sad.  There are so many families whose members are just shivering in their shoes thinking about Dean’s arrival.   My own family isn’t exempt.  In 2004 when Hurricane Ivan hit the country, my grandmother who lives in rural Jamaica lost her roof.   I’m quite worried sick that there’s going to be a repeat of that.     However, while I’m nervous about that, she on the other hand isn’t worried, finds my concern quite hilarious,  and repeats between laughter her mantra that “God will tek care a we.”

Thankfully, it would appear that Dean will make landfall during the daylight hours.  It’s less frightening that way.  During 2004, Ivan made his appearance during the night and I was terrified listening the winds howling and the rain battering the doors.  I spent the night, curled up on the floor of a passage inside my apartment, with the phone clutched desperately to one ear trying to draw comfort from my mother’s presence on the other end of the line, wishing that I could transport myself via the same line to her home in Florida.

This will be the second hurricane that I will go through at home alone.   The first time I elected to do this even though I was invited to stay with friends.  The thought of having to share bathroom facilities with others in a situation where there is no water to flush toilets wasn’t an appealing one.  

The Jamaican election is 10 days away and the two political parties have agreed to cease all campaign activities in light of the impending hurricane.  I’m sure Prime Minister Portia must be kicking herself now for not setting a July election date.   I’m thinking that people who have been battered by hurricane and faced with the prospect of fixing damages to their homes, possibly dealing with the loss of love ones might be less inclined to focus on politics.

 The only possible positive about this is that the two parties in a bid to get votes might scramble over themselves trying to lend assistance to those who need it.   It might mean a less protracted wait for victims.

I’m really frightened.   The last update at 4:00am didn’t indicate that there would be any shift in its course.   I don’t know how well we can handle a category 5.  I hope my Grandmother will be fine.

I hope you Jamaican bloggers will be safe and dry.

I have been so disgusted with the hypocritical and insincere behavior displayed by our politicians during this run-up to the August 27th election here in Jamaica. 

How many political codes of conduct are they going to sign, only to act in total contradiction of said code while on a political platform a few hours later. 

If all the beautiful speeches about not saying inflammatory things while campaigning, not acting in a manner that is contrary to encouraging peaceful elections are simply empty rhetoric, why the hell do they even bother?  They’re not fooling anyone!

Surely, they don’t in all honesty expect their supporters to take them seriously after observing the way that they’ve been acting? 

Instead of  trying to convince us that they’re worthy of our votes by addressing issues germane to the running of the country, they’ve resorted to petty name calling and trying to out-promise the other party.  So exactly what are we supposed to base our votes on?

Are they so blind that that they can’t see that its highly irresponsibly to politicise every act of violence in order to score political points?  How about waiting until the authorities conduct an investigation in order to determine if an incident has political overtones?

Having said all that I was quite heartened by a news item on TVJ during tonight’s broadcast.  I wasn’t paying full attention but the gist of the news item is this.  Apparently there was some act of violence (don’t remember if it was a shooting or arson) in one of those depressed communities.

As usual, political candidate, in this case the JLP’s Audley Shaw, descended on the scene and without anything to back up his pronouncement, promptly declare the PNP to be responsible.  The residents, obviously fed up with being used as a mere pawn in the war for votes, quickly interrupted his spiel in full view of the viewing public. 

They told him an a no-nonsense way that what he was saying was totally unnecessary because they don’t know, have no evidence that would point to who the perpetrator of the crime was.  They declared that they don’t know if the persons responsible were JLP, PNP or just nothing to do with politics.

I could see the embarrassment on his face and I was embarrassed for him.  He tried several times to continue his interview with the reporter, continuing the same accusatory line of argument.  The residents, quite irate would not allow him to finish.

Eventually, red-faced, he pushed the cameras away.

That newscast totally made my night.  Is it possible that the supposedly uneducated are finally wising up, no longer willing to sit idly by while the politicians used them as baits? 

We can only hope. 

I’m here watching sports news on TVJ and just can’t stop laughing. 

I know that people like to beat the table when playing dominos (or rather after the game is finished) but it seems to be a mandatory part of any domino game.

They showed several tables and at every single table even the one where the woman is the winner, after winning the game and jumping to to his/her feet with arms raised in triumph, the very next action was to turn around the give the table a proper whopping.

Hehe.  I found that funny.  I use to play a lot with my family as a child.  I haven’t done that in a while though. 

I thought I was being so resourceful. 

I didn’t have a vehicle this weekend so I figured that since I was stuck at home I’d use the time to read and clean house.   

Having read all day Saturday, I was now ready to clean today.  I did quite a good job I thought and the place was feeling much lighter. 

I was almost finished and decided that I’d extend my cleaning efforts to my make-up brushes.   I gathered about seven of them including my favourite big powder brush, washed them in shampoo and hot water as usual. 

Normally, I’d just lay them flat to dry in the bathroom.  Every now and then though, I’d get a flash of what seems like brilliance and I had one such this evening.

So I flashed out the excess water and wondered to myself, Why can’t the microwave oven be used in a similar manner to a clothes dryer?  I thought some more about it and didn’t see any harm, so feeling quite pleased with myself for coming up with this stroke of genius, I gathered them all, put them on a sheet of hand-towel, set the oven for 5 minutes and went back to wiping the floor.

 I was almost through when I notice the smell of something burning.  Wrinkling my nose I went out to the kitchen, saw that smoke was coming from the microwave oven.

My brushes were ruined.  In thinking about it, I didn’t remember that the handles were made of some type of plastic material.

As I said, I thought I was being resourceful…..

Yesterday was quite an interesting one.   As a result of comments by two co-workers I spent the early part of the day wondering if I possibly have some terminal illness that I’m as yet unaware of.  

Let me create a little background.  I’ve always been slim.  Depending on who’s looking on, especially if it’s the older folks, it might be said that I’m skinny.

I wear size 4 normally and for work where I prefer my clothes to be a little looser, depending on the fit, I might go for a size 6.   When I’m feeling ‘fat’ the size 6 tend to fit a little better.  Of course I can still recall wearing size 1 (or is it 1/2) in jeans when I was in my early 20’s.

After I came back home from studying overseas, I had put on quite a bit of weight (probably the months of sitting in dorm room eating pizza every day while working on dissertaton) and even had a little rear end that was attracting attention.  My male friends loved it, my mother was elated (older people don’t like skinny) and my girlfriends all approved.  I was still wearing size 4 - 6 but the size 4 felt a tad bit tighter.   Let me not lie, it felt more than a tad bit tighter.   I hated it!   I had ballooned up to an unprecedented 130 lbs (and sometimes past that) and was horrified.  I’m 5ft 7in and by no stretch of the imagination would anyone describe me as fat even then, but I didn’t feel as lithe.  Because I wasn’t accustomed to carrying around that much weight, and yes it actually felt like I was carrying around the weight, it felt like I was logging a ton of bricks around every day.

So to the dismay of everyone (especially the men) every so often I’d commit to a two-week stint of running, plus a diet of meat and vegetable only.  I never quite got back to my very, very slim self but I was able to get rid of enough pounds for me to feel agile again.    Also, as long I was not weighing 130 and above that it was ok if I didn’t go back to weighing 122, afterall I had started to like the fact that I now had a little ‘junk in my trunk’ (is that the saying?) so I was quite fine.

Since the beginning of the year however, I started swimming and running on a regular basis.  So everyweek I do a few laps in the pool (major struggle since I’m still not fit) and run around the park a couple early mornings per week.   Since January too, I attempted to eat better (read plenty more  fruits and vegetables, little or none of the usual pizza, bread, etc).  I really wasn’t trying to lose weight, this was just part of an overall improvement on myself and my lifestyle.   Needless to say, after a month of this the pounds started to melt away and I was looking quite lean - more like my old(or young) self.   I didn’t have a problem with this ‘new’ look either especially since when I go to the pool, everyone (male and females) kept commenting how I look like an athlete, looked quite fit.  Yep, started getting those swimmer’s shoulders (so I thought) and could swear I saw some definition in my legs.  Added to all that, the fact that my stomach was once again nice and flat, I was feeling quite pleased with myself.  Of course everyone at work noticed the fact that I was looking slimmer and commented.

Since April I fell off the healthy eating wagon and was back to eating my usual fare of pizza, donuts and assorted pastry.  I was still swimming and running so I was still looking lean.   Then I got a bit lazy and as of today’s date, I really haven’t swam or run in about 5 weeks.  It did puzzle me a bit that the lack of activity in the last month or so and the return to my usual unhealthy mode of eating didn’t cause me to bump back up in the weight scale but I wasn’t concerned.  I just figured that all that exercise had given my metabolism a major jump start and as long as I get back in the game soon (I’ll be back on the track and in the swimming pool come July) I’ll be fine.

Then yesterday two co-workers commented that I’ve really lost a lot of weight and asked whether I’m still swimming.  I told them that the rainy season had dampen my enthusiasm a bit and I haven’t been to the pool in a month or so.

“Hmmm.  You’re not swimming and running and you’re losing weight?  Haven’t you noticed?”

I didn’t answer, they didn’t say anything else.  They didn’t need to.  Their looks said it all.  I spent the rest of the afternoon in a near panic with myriad thoughts of terminal illness unfolding in my head.  I tried to be rational by reminding myself that I haven’t been feeling ill, haven’t felt unusually exhausted, didn’t feel any different but it didn’t help.  I was in a state of full blown panic, increased heart rate, clammy hands and all. 

I hate going to the Doctor, absolutely hate doing tests.  I’m always worried that the results might not be to my liking. 

But maybe I should really check if everything is ok.  Afterall, what if…….?