Or not

All I wanted was to go to the beach. But di vibes well dead since the relative's accident and unfortunately I can't drive. That sorry fact bites me in the ass at least 4 time a year, but never again!!!

Today we go to a wedding. A trumpet-player from church will take a wife today. Apparently they are two very good people. I hope it lasts, very few people marry nowadays and still fewer stay together. The last wedding I went to - of another set of church people - is currently crumbling.

We will see what the night brings

To the Beach!

Welcome to Jamorock

In case you were wondering, that show that I went to in Kingston, with Damian and Stephen Marley, was fabulous, and Damian is kind of hot in a strange skinny rastaman sort of way.

On a related note, I am Legend, starring Will Smith, is a good movie for goosebumps. I thoroughly enjoyed it, though I don't think I could bear to watch it again.

A Very Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas folks. I hope that the holidays have treated you well. Mine have been a mixed bag. In fact, so 'mixed' that I would say it has been bad,

1. My old relative over at formerly known as nearly killed himself in a car crash. But I'll let him talk more in depth about that one.

2. The husband of a church sister of ours was shot dead outside his home. Two men were lurking in the yard and shot at him while he drove out. They didn't take his money, or his car; only his life. Perhaps they didn't have the time. For the first time I am truly afraid to be living in the most violent country on earth.

3. And finally, my father , in his supererogatorty decision to wait for me when I had decided not to go, was made late for midnight mass at Christmas. He spent the entire car ride calling me 'swine', told me to be more like my brother, and banned me from the house for spring break, saying 'mi nuh wah see yuh'. All in all, this shyt came from nowhere. I guess he must have been upset about something. But I'm tired of getting the bad end of every bad mood in that house.

I wonder if he will take it back. No, that will never happen. I wonder if he will bat an eye when I walk away and never come back. All I get is the impression that he is waiting for me to fail so that he can gloat and affirm the impression he has had about me since I was 7. I guess I'll see him on graduation day.

Anyway, I don't fly back to school until the 4th of January. Let's see what we can make of the rest of the holidays.

Family and Kingston

My brother recently reminded me that the last time I saw him was last december. Imagine that. A whole year. I wonder if he or I am the same persons we used to be...

He comforts me. he tells me that my grades no longer matter now that I have a job. But it's not that simple. Now that I am the only one looking, they are all of a sudden very important to me. How very odd.

Anyway, I'm off to Kingston. For those of you who don't know, that's the capital of Jamaica. Buy a damn map! There we will reunite with some family friends and catch the Welcome to Jamrock show by the (Bob) Marley Family.

See you soon.

Grades

I got my first grade. It was good. I feel like the rest will not follow suit though. In retrospect, maybe I should have put in a bit more effort. Maybe not aggravated my professors so much. Then again, in retrospect, I do not see how it could have happened any other way. They's bitches man.

My friend at Smith just graduated. She told me that the only reason she wasn't in tears - of despair that is - is because she is in total willful denial. As much as I have bitched this term about hating school in its currect form -and trust me, I meant every word - I can feel the fear already eclipsing my excitement about graduation. What new things will graduation bring?

I am not ready to grow up. Maybe I'll get married. Become a trophy wife. Join a nunnery. Who will take care of me in the big bad world?

Home at Last

Well, I am home, and I have slept off the fatigue. So tomorrow I will leave the house. Jamaica is such a gorgeous place. A cool 27 degrees celsius greeted me on touch down. God I'm spoilt. It's too bad the country is so politcally and economically messed up. Let's see what we can do about that shall we?

I just finished reading a Libba Bray book and its sequel Rebel Angels. My friend handed them off to me while I visited Smith on my last day in the States. The story is interesting, but they are truly poorly wirtten. It had promise, but it seemed like there was too much happening. She never spent the time to let the reader develop a good picture of what was going on. She never sparked my imagination. But I can never leave anything unfinished. I may just have to read that last of the trilogy.

I must stop my norturnal habits. I'm off to bed.

Exam Week

It's exam week and I have no exams, only two papers. We got our last test back for Real analysis and it was obvious that my professor went on a rampant bout of grade inflation. On one question, which admittedly deserved a good amount of partial credit, she gave me full marks saying 'you were headed in the right direction'. I ain't complaining.

We are all waiting for this week to be over. Then home-home and and then Winter Term. YAY!! An old friend of mine sent me a care package. I love friends who will send you stuff just for the heck of it... just to make you feel better.

BTW a Turkish friend of mine has been growing a fantastic beard. he is cutting it off before he goes home so that they "will let him on the plane". It's funny the things you take for granted. At least I only get harrassed in airports for fitting the description of a drug mule.

Childhood OCD

When I was younger I used to leave exactly as I came. Tiles would light up showing me the twisting diagonal paths I would take on the checkered floors. When my brother taught me chess I would imagine little knights hopping with me; one step right, two steps forwards to the black tile. One step left two steps forward landing on white, until all the adults thought I had picked up an early penchant for dance. Where there were no tiles I would see a dangling thread as if I had unwoven on the way in. I would untangle myself from the building, hugging corners, mentally retracing my steps until I reached the door and was free to walk as I pleased, finally sure I had left no trace of myself behind.

Thanksgiving in context

The liquor store was closed for Thanksgiving - go figure - so I brought some Jamaican Blue Mountain Coffee as a gift to my professor's house - never go to someone's house without a gift. It turns out that he had invited four stranded students to his house for Thanksgiving. There was also his mother, wife, daughter, brother-in-law and friend (from grad school). It's amazing how much more you understand when you see someone in context. Professor G's context - family and friends - showed that his utter insanity is perhaps less shocking than I had previously thought.

It was really nice for him to invite us to his home. Not many people would do that. The food was awesome, and once we got into the swing of the madness the awkward silences got fewer and further between.

One thing did stand out though. I was pleasantly bantering with the brother-in-law about his hair. He was full mountain man. He was amazing! Over the course of the night, we learnt that he lived in a place that allowed him to have neither water nor electricity bills. He had a full beard and two scraggly pig-tails reaching far down his back. He said, that since the army made him shave, that he had not cut his hair since he had come back from Vietnam. A small alarm bell went off in my head. Then he said that if we look at owls, we realize that being covered in hair allows you to be more sensitive to your environment. Intruiguing. His hair is how he transmits waves into the universe and how we receive them. That's why indians pray with feathers, 'and that's why you have pubic hair'. What?!?! "That's why you have pubic hair."

The table was silent. I guess everyone has one crazy relative. Someone changed the subject to pie.

The dinner was wonderful and memorable. That family makes a mean pecan pie. We left to find the other students on campus.

We found some friends in one of the houses. They were the ones who did not want to go the president's house and who had not been invited to a professors house. We all scrounged up a dinner or scrambled eggs, salmon sandwiches, hamburger meat, pasta with tomato sauce, rice, chicken, sardines, octopus and bread. I don't know much about the awkward holiday "Thanksgiving" but it is wonderful to spend quality time with good friends. We later watched Chronicles of Riddick. I wonder when they are making 2 and 3.

Solitude

I decided last minute to stay on campus for Thanksgiving. I will get lot's of work done and get to regroup for the last weeks of school. There are plenty of people here, I just don't want to see them. I rolled out of bed today and just thought... how can I avoid people today?

It's strange that some people don't they realize how great it is to be alone sometimes.

Must pick up bottle of wine... I was invited to my thesis advisor's house for dinner tomorrow. Any suggestions?

Human dignity

So the company that hired me sent me what I can only assume is a corporate gift - I never knew what that category included before today. They are awesome people. I got a 'personalized' note from one of the partners and a tin of gourmet cookies. What turned me off, was the fact that the company name was emblazoned on the cookie tin in bright obnoxious letters. Who the flipping hell personalizes cookie tins? These people don't make cookies!!

The answer is clear... people with too much money - which is disheartening and encouraging at the same time. These people have money to waste on undergraduate hirelings when there is so much wrong with the world. Then again, they will be paying ME next year.

This all came to mind as I hauled the cookie tin to my political science class today. We had reading on what constitutes a life worthy of human dignity. Check out Martha Nussbaum if you have the chance. Yeah, I'll have money, but will I be loved? Will I be politically influential so far away from home? Will I have enough education? Ignoring Kant, will I be letting myself be used as a means to an end? Will I be pouring my hours into the capitalist machine instead of building up human relations?

BTW the kid that commented on my last entry is my brother - we all deserve to be recognized.

Friendship

Someone once told me that true love improves you. It makes you a better person. Makes you want to be a better person. That if you are unhappy, or angsting, or become self-destructive, that you have found yourself in a bad relationship.

I have not been lucky or unlucky enough to have ever been in love, but I have more than my fair share of friends and acquaintances. The question is, what is the litmus test for a bad friendship? At what point would it be legitimate to start a hasty retreat?

I hate people

There's that old sentiment that you learn a lot about yourself from a fight (maybe not so old, maybe Fight Club?). Either way, today I had three excruciating confrontations with employees of the College. Granted, they all had their own flavour... sometimes I was standing, stationary, pacing; sometimes there was shouting on both sides, sometimes it was very quiet and passive aggressive and the power dynamics were clear. This is what I have learned:

The people who have power over you are not necessarily better than you in anyway. They are not more intelligent or mature. They are not necesarily insightful or logical. Heaven forbid they show a little understanding. Some random sequence of events has placed them over you, and they will often use their power, their inflated self-image, and their arbitrary systems of assessment to make your life less pleasant than it would otherwise be.

This is what I've learned about myself:

I have to be my own boss. But so much time, space and effort are separating me from that happy day. I guess I should stop being dramatic and struggle on...

BTW

I stage-managed a show over the weekend too. A full week of tech rehearsals and 3 shows because the person they asked couldn't do it. Then, show-time rolls around and I find out that the ushers, who seem incapable of actual ushering, get paid. The lamest job in the entire production is the one paid position!

mmmm, tastes like bitter

Anyway, one of the tech crew asked me to stage-manage his show in December. I think it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. I am here for school after all.

Guests

I had visitors for the first time this term; three visitors from the 5 college area. And when they arrived, their friends descended upon my room. It was excellent fun. But it did three things. First, it made me realize how spartan my room is. A friend once told me, never to trust a person with nothing in their dorm rooms. It's a sign of secrets and instability. I am one of those people. But frankly, what can you do? My room would look more lived in if it was more lived in.

Second it made me realize how good friends are. They come and enjoy you and you enjoy them. They will travel for miles just to sit on your floor. They are patient, they are loving and they don't care if you smell bad. And they can last forever, ever changing, ever interesting.

Third, it made me contemplate the etiquette of hosting. I had the time of my life this weekend, but my weekend is all gone now. I had to give up other friends and events and all school work. But it could not have happened any other way. When you have guests, they must receive your full attention. If someone travels to see you, they rightly become the centre of your universe. Now I must put my butt in gear and work like crazy for the next solid 48 hours. But first, dance practice.

persuasion and illusion

While in an interview with another firm I realized that there are so many skills you can cultivate in life. He was telling me about their stellar metorship programme and how they develop the leadership skills of their employees. They teach them how to be organized, how to break down a problem and attack. But then they teach them how to have a presence, how to persuade, how to inspire awe.

You never quite think of these things as things you can learn. You figure, either you are born with them or you are not. And then you figure that those with natural ability will always be better at the game. But how true is this? More imporatantly, which of these skills do I have and which do I lack? In about a year, I will somehow have to persuade leading businesses that they both need and should listen to my advice. I think this is a kind of seduction far beyond my capabilities.

I got a job!!

It turns out, that interview did not go well at all. But my second and third went swimmingly and now I have a job!!!! It is like getting into college early decision again, but better!! Security is a wonderful thing.

All week my friends had been telling me that they were sure I had gotten the job. In part I think it was a defence mechanism - some of them had interviewed too - but now I think I also need to be grateful that I have friends who believe that much in me. At the same time, they might have just wanted to torture me... They knew I didn't want to get my hopes up.

One thing is a bit bizarre though. Right out of under-grad I'll be making more than my Dad. Mind you, my Dad is a surgeon. It just so happens that his job is undervalued and in a third world country while mine is over-valued and in a first world country. Makes you think that something is seriously wrong with a market that would pay me more than him.

outside consulting

Had my first ever job interview with a consulting firm yesterday. I don't know how it went. There are moments when I feel it went really well, and others when I replay a moment and know it could have gone a lot better. It's the worst kind of self-torture. I guess Nietzsche was right - one of the worst illnesses is the inability to forget. At least the interview was good practice.

But now I have other things to think about. Tonight I'm stage-managing for a show and it is a hot mess. First rehearsal was yesterday night. Last rehearsal this morning. Still haven't seen half the pieces. People are just too damn disorganized and expect other people to save their butts. And its even worse because this is a memorial celebration. Put some effort in.

Someone asked me yesterday why I like stage-managing - it's not as fulfilling as performing after all. But Stage managing is a different kind of creation. Like drawing in water on hot pavement. Like quilting. I'm ok with staying behind the scenes.

Yesterday night I told an old buddy that I'm happy he's my friend. He took that as evidence that I was drunk. We don't say these things often enough.

Other people's creations

An old acquaintance has started making music. I got into an over-long discussion with someone yesteday about whether the music is depressing or not. Guess you can judge for yourself.

http://www.purevolume.com/thewoolensweaters

To Youth and Womanhood

My bro said that he no longer enjoys the party scene. I think he may be getting a little older. Today, my next door neighbour told me the same. But I think its just because the parties here suck. But we'll see what a young woman can find on a Saturday night. There are a few private parties going on. Not least of which is the initiation party for one of my dance groups. We let about 8 people in, and today, we drink!

My attempts to buy a cell phone have failed becuase I forgot to bring my passport to the mall with me. Damn you Verizon!! We shall meet again!

In the meawhile, I must continue to prove the fundamental theorem of algebra, fix my resume and write a cover letter. Wish me luck.

Dance, Travel, and Jena

My Grandma always said one should never trust a girl who doesn't like to dance. What on earth could that possibly mean? What's wrong with a girl who doesn't like to dance? Anyway, we are holding call-back auditions for one of my dance groups today. And even better than a girl who likes to dance, is a guy who likes to dance. How can a girl resist a fun-loving guy who demonstrable has flawless rhythm? Guys, take note.

After auditions we spend a couple of hours trying to figure out who to let in and then I get to write a 20 pager on the history of commutative algebra. Nice!!! I slept 12 hours last night in an attempt to procrastinate. But I have no more time to waste. Now I am taking comfort in my academic obligations. It will prevent me from havign to talk to people. Don't get me wrong, I love people and people generally like me, but after being gone all year its hard to reconnect. At first I thought it was that people have changed. But maybe its me. I am starting to fear that I am older, more judgemental and more awkward than I used to be. Only time will tell.

Even though I am trying to avoid people I am still thinking that later today I will attend a joint meeting between the Black Student Union and the Students for Social Justice about a Jena 6 awareness campaign on campus. For some info go to:

http://observer.guardian.co.uk/world/story/0,,2083762,00.html
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=12353776
http://www.amnesty.org.uk/news_details.asp?NewsID=17444
http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/nationworld/chi-070904jena,1,4272535.story

for entertainment, I suggest: www.allabout-sp.net

The Fundamental Theorem of Algebra

So I am supposed to be in class right now, I'm pretty sure. But of course, I have no idea where it is. Maybe they moved it... or cancelled it. Either way I feel like an idiot. There was no other reason for me to wake up at 8am.

The rest of the day doesn't sound so appealing either. Real analysis at 10, then a couple of hours before I have to know the proof of the Fundamental Theorem of Algebra - and a sketch of a 40min talk. All the time struggling with the decision of whether to fast for Ramadan. Ramadan started yesterday btw. I'm not Muslim, but all religions of the Book seem to think fasting is a good idea. For cleansing? Meditation? Solidarity with the poor? I'm not quite sure. But, I did it back in Sophomore year, and it was kinda nice. Bottom line though, even if it is chosen and interesting, hunger is torture.

gonna do some research on the Jena 6

Mathematics text books

So I'm taking a higher level mathematics course. The text book has been out of print for a while, but the prof likes it so that is what we are using. It's really not that great. In fact, it does more to confuse than to elucidate. A friend of mine who took the same class with another prof said that they had used another text book, which was written by a third prof in our beloved math department. That text book, apparently, also sucks.
It's kind of difficult to say what is going on here. Perhaps, math is just one of those subjects that is hard to explain. Or perhaps, those who are best qualified to write math text books are the least likely to be able to write well - the genius that cannot explain itself. Perhaps it is all baloney and the people whose text books we use are those who are friends with your prof. Or maybe the authors have built up such a reputation for themselves that as soon as they touch pen to paper, someone prints it and it gets used in classrooms across the nation. Either way, you start to wonder... if someone really understands something, shouldn't they be able to explain it in very simple terms, so that even a 5 year old would understand?

Late night bad poetry

I plan to write everyday. This means that some days you will be subjected to filler. So here goes. My brother refuses to comment on how bad this is, so I will let others decide:


I measure time in displacement;
in fractions and time zones 'till i touch down on the island.
But more time,
breaking through jet lag,
from flight attendants and bus drivers,
quiet girls with straight backs behind counters,
mothers who borderline manhandle their children
and children who shut up
same time,
are the slow rhythms of not dialect, not creole
just patois without qualification.
The "Jamaican", understood
all by them
who don't understand a word.

Colonial Girls School

I was home recently right after hurricane Dean. I had the rare pleasure of sitting and talking with an old church sister of mine. She is now 15 and attending Mount Alvernia High. I noticed that in the 8 month since I had last been at home she had straightened her hair. What a shame. Once you start that it's hard to get out. But worst of all it wasn't really her choice. The principal of her school had said (according to her) that " We are black and we are proud but we don't have to wear our ethnicity on our heads." What colonial bullshit. As if the natural hair of a black woman isn't presentable. Her mother thought it wasn't a battle worth fighting; her daughter was going to graduate soon anyway. But things like that are not acceptible in a school in 2007, least of all a school associated with the Catholic Church. When my little church sister was telling me how they harrassed her when she had natural hair, I remembered how many times I was pulled into the principal 's office in my high school days for wearing my hair natural and in twists. I wonder what lessons she is going to take from school- what self-image, what idea of beauty. I know in my day, my English teacher was nice enough to let us know what was going on; we attended a colonial girls' school.

(this poet attended my school, and wrote this poem about it)

Colonial Girls School by Olive Senior

Borrowed images
willed our skins pale
muffled our laughter
lowered our voice
let out our hems
dekinked our hair
denied our sex in gym tunics and bloomers
harnessed our voices to madrigals
and genteel airs
yoked our minds to declensions in Latin
and the language of Shakespeare
Told us nothing about ourselves
There was nothing about us at all
How those pale northern eyes and
aristocratic whispers once erased us
how our loudness, our laughter
debased us.
There was nothing left of ourselves
Nothing about us at all.
(Studying: History Ancient and Modern
Kings and Queens of England
Steppes of Russia
Wheatfields of Canada
There was nothing of our landscape there
Nothing about us at all
Marcus Garvey turned twice in his grave.
Thirty-eight was a beacon. A flame.
They were talking of desegregation
In Little Rock, Arkansas, Lumumba
and the Congo. To us mumbo-jumbo.
We had read Vachel Lindsay's
vision of the jungle.
Feeling nothing about ourselves
There was nothing about us at all
Months, years, a childhood memorising
Latin declensions
(For our language
-'bad talking' -
detentions)
Finding nothing about us there
Nothing about us at all
So, friend of my childhood years
One day we'll talk about
How the mirror broke
Who kissed us awake
Who let Anansi from his bag.
For isn't it strange how
northern eyes
in the brighter world before us now Pale?