The Root of All Evil

My granny told me that the root of all evil was actually ENVY.

That's an interesting idea. The old adage says that the root of evil is 'money'. But fighting tooth and nail for money implies that one has a goal. To use money, one needs ideas, things you want to do, stuff you want to buy, actual desires! But lacking even that most basic sort of creativity, perhaps the average person falls back on envy of those who want and live and desire and achieve. Ayn Rand would call it... second hand living...


(In case you were wondering. the picture is the personification of Envy from Full Metal Alchemist. He had the power to assume anyone's shape. fitting no?)

This Shit... and it's anniversary

"Gone Abroad" is approaching it's 1st anniversay and I'm still trying to figure out what this blog should be. I hope I have become a better writer since it began. Regardless, most of my hits come from 'colonial girl school' (I post I did ages ago. might have been my first), and my only non-relative comment was prompted by Ayn Rand. Perhaps some more focused content would help. I have to give all this some thought but in the meanwhile...

This shit is about to get illustrated... bitches!

get excited

Olympic understatement and the Economist

"At the Beijing Olympic, Michael Phelps won his eighth gold medal at the games, beating the record of seven set in 1972 by another American swimmer, Mark Spitz; Jamaican runners won the men's and women's 100-metre races; and Britain chalked up its best medal tally since 1908 by dominating the cycling events. Liu Xiang, China's hurdling hero, apologised to the nation for an injury that caused him to withdraw from his race." Economist August 23rd - 29th 2008, page 6

Ok, so we can tolarate all the silly arguments about who is the better athlete, Phelps or Bolt. (Talk about apples and oranges!) But how can you possibly have an olympic 'report' without even mentioning Bolt's name? No mention of the stunning new world records! No mention of Jamaica dominating the Birdnest! Not even a peep about Bolt's Rogge-baiting dancing antics! But there is more than enough detail about the American and British victories and they even (helpfully) included a little historical data to let the readers know how monumental their achievements were. 'Bias' is a bitter-tasting word, but sometimes it has to be said.

Let's end this rant with a little bit of sillyness

Catchin Up...

wow, third confession for the day... I guess I have a lot of catching up to do. Right now I just want to retire today's confession and make a reminder note for things I must write about:

Let us set aside old confessions: "I don't know if I have the strength for real change"

and face our new bits of self-discovery: "I am lazy"


To write about:

Jamaica and the Olympics

Bisexuality

Grandma

Visiting Home

Saundrene's wedding - and meeting the fiance

Cooking


maybe I can tackle these in groups...

The Souls Of Black Folk

I figured I should find something out about black americans since I am going to be lumped in with them when I move to the States.

A non-black friend of mine was reading this book - I can only imagine to understand his black girlfriend - so I picked it up when I saw it on sale at Strand Bookshop off Union square.

When Saundrene saw me with it, she said that I should be reading some Marcus Garvey - who back in the day considered (and called) Dubois a roast breadfruit (read oreo, coconut, uncle tom). To tell the truth, the first chapter was rather passive and speaks from a point of view wholly outside the direct black experience.

Marcus Garvey is the next read I suppose. Why does it always come back to Jamaicans? :) Maybe our vanity is a little bit justified.

Fun fact : it was a Jamaican Obeah man (boukman ?) who instigated the Haitian revolution. Too bad France made Haiti pay for it's independence (25 billion gold francs) or else they would be the proud beacon of black spirit that they should be.

(all facts taken from my dad the recreational historian. Must remember to fact-check later.)

Boston and Hospital Haikus

Written just before my ultrasound:


Pain sings like echoes
stuck rebounding between these
narrow pelvic walls


I move to Boston on the first of September. I'm kind of pissed actually. I am in Jamaica now feeling that olympic frenzy. I arrived on the 20th and only planned to leave on the 30th so I could make it to Boston in time to move in with the roomies. Turns out the boys struck a deal and are moving in on the 30th. In response, Didem is moving in on the 31st. I will be last to arrive and last to pick a room. What portends! Is this what is to come? Am I ready for Boston and this new life...

Than again, things have always had a stunning way of working out in my favour. Maybe Boston is not ready for me... :)

Give it a listen

music

and pass it forward...

Lessons from "The Fountainhead", part one

I read the Fountainhead (Ayn Rand) recently. I must say, that I loved most of it. The end got a bit preachy, but either way the book has a lot to offer, philosophically and otherwise. So now that there is some distance between it and me - having read some other books - I will return to some of my favourite quotes/lessons. I hope you enjoy...

"He wondered whether he really liked his mother. But she was his mother and this fact was recognized by everybody as meaning automatically that he loved her, and so he took for granted that whatever he felt for her was love. He did not know whether there was any reason why he should respect her judgement. She was his mother; this was supposed to take the place of reasons." page 35

Replace "mother" with any relative you like and it still applies. Even better, if you can, replace "mother" with some relative you don't really know or particulaly like but you are expected to respect. What is this odd combination of dependence, admiration, guilt, debt, trust, obligation ...whatever, that we feel for them? Is this love? Is it that special brand of love that we can only feel for family - blood being thicker than water and all that? Or do we just assume it is because we don't want to be that crass bastard who doesn't love his mother? Is it taboo to even think that your father, your brother, your ageing homely grandmother has to -God forbid! - earn your love? When these same relatives mistreat you, is it petty and premature to just say, "Wow, that person just doesn't love me."

Can we accept this? Is this too hard to bear?

Union Square

I was walking through Union square looking absent-mindedly at the people playing chess. I caught the eye of an older kind-looking fellow who was at a table alone.

"Come here baby! Let me teach you how to play chess." He said.

I just smiled, shook my head and kept walking. Everybody in earshot started cracking up as he shouted at me across the park:

"Listen to me!!

You won't be cute forever!

You WILL turn 50!

You've got to get INTELLIGENT!!!"

Ha!

BTW... today is my birthday! yay!

Kafka

If you look back at my old entry Church Bells on the 28th of June I mention retiring one of my 'todays confessions' - found in the sidebar

It read: "I am restless. I am looking for something I cannot name. Is this unhappiness?"

Imagine my surprise when I read the forward (John Updike) of my Complete Stories of Franz Kafka:

'Karfa epitomizes one apsect of this modern mind-set : a sensation of anxiety and shame whose center cannot be located and therefore cannot be placated..."

Jesus. Literature is a beautiful thing. I guess "modernism" is something I should look into. Perhaps it can help me understand my current moods.

But I have only read The Metamorphosis" so far... and I hated it.... all except the ending. I hated every character. I hated the unshocked lightness of the tale. I am sorry that Gregor had to become physical manifestation of his family's pointless, lazy, self-absorbed existence, but I guess we are meant to feel a relief at his awful death. At least,by and through his death his sister, father and mother became real and vitalized people. Being a scapegoat sucks. He should never have returned or visited home, but more than that he should have never facilitated their previously useless existence. I'm no good at analyzing literature, but this is what the story meant to me and I suppose that is all that matters.

Maybe I can make myself read some more.

My Father

My grandma had her operation and we went to visit her in the hospital. I stood over her and looked into her face while she spoke to me of life, sickness and her children.

"Sickness is not a good thing. Neither is having children"

"Then why did you have eight?" I rebutted.

"Because I love them. You love children before you see them. Do you know why I love your dad?"

"No."

She explained to me - as she had in the past - that it was her hardest pregnancy. That a priest had visited her everyday and had given her a book on St Francis of Assissi who, in turn, gave my father his name.

"And you know what else?" She asked

"What?"

"He is a good man. When he sets himself to do something he does it. He isn't afraid of hard work. He is an honest man - no underhanded business. And if he is your friends he is your friend."

When I look at my dad I look at a very small period of his life and I look from a certain angle. It is beautiful to hear the angle of his mother. For the first time I thought I could see the man my mother fell in love with and married.

The mystery of Business Casual

Business casual attire is required for my job. What the hell IS business casual? For guys I can imagine the uniform: the khaki pants and those blue button-down shirts. Add some obsequiousness and you've got the perfect entry level I-banker or undergrad interviewee. But for women, it seems like a god-damn free-for-all. It's the kind of thing that you'll only know when you walk into the office and become painfully aware that you are inappropriately dressed and it's too late to save your dignity and salvage all those precious first impressions.

Oh Lord, I'm angsting again.

I'll see you tomorrow and let you know what I discover. Goodnight

The Professor's Daughter - Emily Raboteau

I guess I have a lot to say tonight. So for your reading ease, I present the subsections:

Liteature:
...reading this book I found on my grandma's bed-side table. While I was riding the Q one line really stuck with me.

"That's a bullshit word. 'Shy.' That just a pretty word for selfish."

Interesting. Is that true? I always thought that the a shy person was just secretly wracked with fear. What if they are just secretly hoarding all the beautiful insightful things they could be giving us. Everything going in, nothing coming out.

Friends:
A guy friend of mine just admitted something he has been struggling with alone. I don't want to write about him, but I just wanted to say that if he had told us, we would have taken care of him. Some people would say he was dumb for letting it go so long, when it was an easy fix. But he's not dumb, he's proud. I would have done the same in his situation. I wouldn't have liked him any less for caving. I like him all the more for not.

Family:
Anyway, It turns out that my cousin in actually going to have her wedding at my house in Jamaica. Imagine that.

Here in NYC, my grandma is having her operation on Wednesday. She is removing her gallstones. Somehow, it's not going to be an invasive procedure. We prepare for the Hospital stay tomorrow.

Next time I'll try and write a little about The Fountainhead. Today I went to a dance class at the New Dance Group place on 38th and 8th. I love getting sweaty, don't you? I really don't care how unattractive it is. Those endorphines do crazy things to me.

I...

I straightened my hair. My grandma is pleased; after all, I'm going to start real work now.

I might cry.

Church Bells

I think my dad and grandma are trying to get my cousin to get married in a church.

Today I retire this confession: "I am restless. I am looking for something I cannot name. It this unhappiness?"

compromising your morals... mmm, delicious

I was talking to a friend about a friend of hers whose father happens to be something like a rich government official type person in China. My friend was telling me that her friend's father was one of those people who ate panda.

Let's think about that for a second. Even if you don't know much about pandas, you know that they are pretty cute and pretty rare. I personally have beef with pandas but let's put that aside for now. The point is that they are very close to extinction and everybody knows that.

You may be wondering 'does panda taste good?', which exactly what I asked. But this is besides the point also. How good does panda have to taste for you to eat an animal so publicly in danger? I thought about it and figured there are three possible reasons.

1. Panda tastes really good

2. Some people are just douches who eat panda as a delicacy simply because it is rare

3. This guy must be around the kind of people who want to know if he would compromise his morals for them. 

Whether it is true or not, this third is the most interesting to me. Maybe eating panda is a signal that he is willing to follow the crowd no matter how distasteful the activity.He will keep their secret because they  are keeping his... This seems like the kind of bond that would come in handy as a business man or  Chinese government official.

There are many things people try to get you to do, not because the activity itself is intrinsically fun or meaningful, but because it signals the kind of person you are. Most people are more comfortable knowing that you are like them. So you can't judge them, perhaps. Like when drinkers feel uncomfortable around non-drinkers. They love getting that person to take a drink. Or streakers wanting other people streak... or anything really. It's interesting. 

He's really not that into you...

I was hanging out with some people who's names are not important right now. Either way, there was a particularly entertaining part of the discussion that I enjoyed listening to even if I couldn't fully take part. The two boys were talking about relationship self help type books and how they are  woman's domain. The thing to read right now apparently is "He's really not that into to you", but there is no equivalent for guys because guys just don't read shit like that.

One fellow proposed, a dvd series where a guy and a girl act out a  potentially romantic scenario and at some point the viewer has to choose the next move - whether it is to do a certain action or say a particular sequence of words. Depending on their choice, the guy would either reach fourth base - Bow Chika Wow Wow! -  while the viewer watches,  or would only go so far and end up with various forms of rejection.  This is a perverted goose-bumps choose-your-own-ending type of thing where the key to success/victory/scoring is to learn not to be a douchebag. 

They said that it is interactive, helpful, fun and combines the two things that appeal most to men - video games and porn. But, would it  sell?

Ha! This cracks me up!

Getting married in the morning

My cousin is getting married and moving back to Jamaica ( in that order). Congratulations my darling!

At one point she told him (she was telling me) that he was not going to find a better woman than her - prettier maybe, younger possibly, but as a whole woman, not a chance! This was at the mild hinting from grandma that she should tell the man that if he wasn't going to marry her he should go about his business so she could go about hers. I didn't know these kinds of ultimatums worked in real life.

She is 28 and my grandmother had a good talk with me yesterday about how worried she had been about her grandniece. Grandma then had a good talk with the husband-to-be and when she passed off the phone the first thing out of her mouth was, "So, when are you getting married?" I believe, she was talking to me.

My dad had a talk at me along the same theme the day before my graduation.

Is it that time of my life or is my family just bat-shit-crazy? I do not hear the premonitory ticking of any biological clock.

Anyway, if "Fomerly Known As" would aswer his damn phone I could tell him the good news...

The Fountainhead - Ayn Rand

So I picked up a copy of the Fountainhead at the Barnes and Noble at Union Square. I was sitting in my friends room keeping her company, reading and eating cheesecake (delicious). She saw what I was reading and asked why I decided to pick it up.

I said something like "I heard it was really good - and it is- and I'm interested in her philosophy." It was perfectly true, but not even half of the real reason. It was a side reason, incidental, icing on the cake when I saw that book in the store and snatched it up.

When I was 16 or 17 I asked my guy friend how you could ever sleep with someone you hated. I was naive at the time and confused at the torrid love affair that was happening between two overly artistic, philosophically and appropriately angsty acquaintances who ostensibly hated each other. My friend turned to me, took me to a bookshelf - we were in the library - pulled down The Fountainhead and said that I should read this and I would understand. Years later I found the book in that bookstore and decided it was time.

I'll let you know if the book enlightens me. Either way, that was the real reason I was reading it. I have no idea why I didn't tell my girl friend that. Was it too personal? Maybe we just arne't that close and I didn't know it until then. Was I sounding the other answer off her? Did I not want to get into it? Is this caught up with me pretending to be other than I am - because I am now sure that I have been doing that?

I have a way of not telling a lie but not saying the thing that is most true. There are so many true things. No reason is ever the full reason. I am large, I contain multitudes. But why did I feel like I was cheating this time when I gave her that harmless answer?

She said that she thought that Ayn Rand's philosophy was impractical and selfish. "Well ... yes. "

Just more angsty food for thought.

P.S. Im going to the premiere of Hancock!

i like your body

I discovered one of my old paper journals and it reminded me to look
up this poem.  It is honest. It is almost obscene. It is beautiful,
and  reading Ayn Rand's Fountainhead I feel in a particular mood
to appreciate it. So... for your reading pleasure:

i like my body when it is with your - E.E. Cummings

i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite a new thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh . . . . And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you quite so new