Christmas Fire…

Now, I’m not the biggest Christmas fan, and I know this is late. But when one of my favourite hip-hop artists performs a Christmas classic by a legend, that shit deserves it’s space…

A Call To Men…

I haven’t found anything truly worth writing about lately. It has been a bit frustrating, but has largely started to recently elicit a “Meh” response from me. This may not a fully written post, but it is something I can relate to, fully. In being raised by no less than 5 very strong, will-powered women, I have often struggled to put the lessons I have learned from them while growing up, into the context of my role as a man in society. Thankfully, I still follow TED.com. And I have yet to hear that struggle be put forth so eloquently, or so powerfully…

Mama Bear…

“37. E-mail, text and talk on the phone to completely cool woman who is back in Toronto. Realise there is room for growth if you let it. Realise that she lives in another country. Realise you are still emotionally invested in your ex. Realise that you are dangerously close to recreating every single horrible relationship decision you have ever made.” – Chad Hall, 43 Ways to drive yourself Bat Shit Crazy…

I hate quoting myself.

There are 2 fundamental problems with quoting yourself. Firstly, it makes you sound like an over-inflated, self-righteous, pompous asswipe. And no, you do not get bonus points for pointing out that maintaining an online blog is almost as bad. The other issue is that, depending on the quote you opt to use, you have just immortalised how much of an idiot you really are. Especially, if you maintain an online blog. (Yes, I’m beginning to realize a blog of this nature is a double-edged sword. But it’s like crack! I can’t stop!! HELP!!!) Then, there are the few moments of true enlightenment, when the earth, sun, moon and stars all align, and you know that you have stumbled upon an honest-to-goodness moment of clarity, a sliver of time where, for just a nanosecond, everything makes sense, and capture that moment in script. Well, the above quote definitely was NOT one of those moments. It was a moment of angst and anxiety, a cry for sanity in period mark by insanity. And surprisingly, I got it.

Ok, so I have a girlfriend. So what? My cousin swears that I change girlfriends faster than I change cell phones. A co-worker believes my anthem should be “On To The Next One.” My other cousin gets told he needs to explore options and not always look to settle down so fast. I get told to quit the shit and just settle down. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to set a record. I will willingly admit that I have suffered from happy feet in the past. Of course, I have also been “blessed” with some true crazies in past. And I mean certifiably insane. So, what makes this one different? Well, besides the fact that I haven’t given anyone a new nickname in some months (hence the title, tho Spotty Cuss has outed her real name), let’s start with the fact that I am actively flouting one of my cardinal rules of dating.

In The Triniyute Guide to Dating, rule #5 (or is it #12???) states that long-term, long-distance relationships never work. I would go into the details, but that would be giving away material that could be used in another post. Well, I’m in Trinidad. She’s in Canada. She has no intention of moving. I don’t see the sense in her moving either. I also don’t see myself moving for at least a couple years. So what’s the sense in pursuing and continuing this relationship? Funny you should ask. I have been blessed recently where I have been involved with some pretty remarkable women. But, and this is no slight on them or a comparison to them, I feel like I have met some one who matches my particular quirks well.



She is smart, witty, beautiful, educated, and has a sense of adventure. (Yes, I hear the yawning). She can take talk like a champ, gives as good as she gets, and is opinionated without being headstrong. (Ok, quit with the yawning, I get the point, clichéd, yada, yada, yada). So I will say this. Only once before have I ever found someone who I felt I could lose myself in, without losing my sense of self. Conversations with her run from the benign, to the banal, to the mind-boggling (and also have lead to an astronomical phone bill. Thank God for Skype). We argue without fighting, and fight without the sense that it is the end of the world. She can be doubtful, yet unafraid. There are layers to her which baffle me, yet draw me nearer. She isn’t perfect (one particular flaw drives me near bat-shit crazy), but in her case, her flaws make her imperfectly perfect. (And before I hear about it, yes, thank you Cee-Lo Green). She makes the decision of conducting a long-term, long-distance relationship, an easy one.

So why the nickname, “Mama Bear”? Well. She is always the responsible one, and taking on that “Mama Bear” role. She always makes sure everyone reaches home safe, always checking that no-one drank too much, always the first to be that shoulder to cry on, or the ear that’s needed. And all she has asked of me to date, is for nothing. She has tried to take on that role with me too, but I refuse to let her (although like me, she can outrageously stubborn). I’m more content to help/let her shine. So, while this relationship has thousands of reasons (and miles) why it shouldn’t work, I can think of one major one why I am willing to take that chance, to sacrifice and try my best to make it work. And her initials are MVM, aka “Mama Bear”.

PPPPPAAAAATTTTTTSSSSSSSYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Silence…

I have been quiet for a bit. And I’m not sure why. While I haven’t lost the urge to write, I find myself pausing mid-post. I find myself second-guessing what I want to say. And to be honest, I haven’t had much to say recently. Everything sounds unoriginal or, worse yet, clichéd. I would say that my muse has gone silent, except for the fact that I don’t really think I ever had a muse in the first. My rantings and ravings tend to be largely emotionally driven. And my emotions are largely in check these days. To postulate succinctly, I think I may have found a measure of peace. And that may be the worst thing that ever happened to this blog…

In the past year and a half, all kinds of random topics have graced this space. My self-destructive tendencies in so far as my relationships are concerned. A bit of my political leanings. My stance on religion. Hell, I’ve even posted videos of video game music that i love. Some of it has been filler for those times when i really struggled to come up with topics. Other times, I literally poured my heart out into this public arena. And it worked. For awhile. Then I started looking back at my postings. While many of my ramblings were cathartic, they also had another unintended purpose. The kept the wound that they were supposed to close fresh and raw. In short, the more I wrote, the longer my pain took to dissipate. So I stopped sharing it, and just let what I had written before stand as the final say. I decided to move on. And a funny thing happened. I did move on. I also adopted a new outlook. I no longer stress and worry over those things that I cannot control. And I feel lighter for it. (In an ironic twist, my genetic predisposition to hypertension has now decided that it wants to kick in. If it ain’t one thing…)

So what does this all mean? I’m not quite sure. A two-night stand of mine has claimed that i no longer “excite” her with my new attitude. While that little revelation may be an unintended benefit, what I also know is that my writing has suffered as an unexpected drawback. Why? Because while it would be extreme to say that I no longer care about the things that moved me before, I would agree that, to a point, I no longer have the same passion. And that worries me a bit. My girlfriend insists that writing is like riding a bicycle. You never really lose the skill, you just get rusty. So this is me taking those first tentative pedals all over again. Let’s see where this goes.

And no this was not meant to “excite” anyone…

Testing…

Testing a new editor, folk…

Soul Sounds: Super Castlevania IV OST, Stage 3-3: The Submerged City

Yes I know it's just instrumental. Yes, I know it's a video game. Yes, I know it's the background music from a stage for said video game. Yes, I know said video game came out in 1991, when I was just 11 years old. But the music was so smooth and so jazzy, so ahead of its time in terms of technological achievement for gaming at that time, that it stimulated my love of jazz. So without further ado...

Castlevania IV OST: The Submerged City...

Soul Reasonings: The Soundtrack... (updated)

(Updated with links for songs...)

I will probably try to add links later. No guarantees...


Nina Simone. Lupe Fiasco. Kanye West. Groove Armada. Nickelback. Ghostface Killah. All musicians. And they come from different genres. So what do they all have in common? Well beyond the fact that they combine to take up a healthy chunk of space on my hard drive, they all have songs that I related to heavily at certain points in my life. (I can already hear you saying, Ghostface Killah? Yep, Ghostface Killah.) I have a saying that I use all the time. It falls along the lines that my life could be set to a soundtrack (or used as a script for a soap). Problem is that I never have defined that soundtrack (and I am damn sure not writing a script). Well, I have finally decided to try and fix that little issue. I have taken the last decade of my life, and split it up into 3 separate eras, and listed the songs that remind me most of what I was going through at the point in time. These are not necessarily songs that were popular at the point in time. So you may find that a song that came out last year is filed under a time period much earlier. Some songs also have more meaning than others. This list is in no way meant to be comprehensive. (Hell, I had enough trouble narrowing it down to this). But I think in this little sample, I managed to capture the essence of my experiences in song. So without further ado, the soundtrack of a soul reasoner:


2000-2003: The College Years

Jermaine Dupri & Ludacris – Welcome to Atlanta
Asher Roth – I Love College
Kanye West – School Spirit
Bounty Killer & Wayne Marshall – Sufferer
Monica – Angel of Mine
Tupac – Do For Love
Nickleback - Figured You Out
Bounty Killer ft. Robin – Love Don’t Live Here Anymore
Kanye West – Heartless
Angie Stone – No More Rain
Uncle Sam – I Don’t Ever Wanna See You Again

2004-2007: Back Home

Kanye West ft. Chris Martin - Homecoming
TLC – Damaged
Nina Simone – Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood
The Verve – Bittersweet Symphony
Kanye West – Roses
Tupac – Dear Mama
Mos Def – Umi Says
Common – The Light
Common – Black Maybe
Lit – My Own Worst Enemy
John Mayer – Dreaming with a Broken Heart

2008-2010: Rebirth, Reflection, Renewal

Dionne Farris – Hopeless
Lupe Fiasco - Sunshine
Kem – Can’t Stop Loving You
D’Angelo – I’ve Found My Smile Again
Evanescence – Call Me When You’re Sober
Ghostface Killah ft. “Radio” Raheem Davaughn – Do Over
Groove Armada – Hands of Time
Lifehouse - Broken
Switchfoot – Dare You To Move
Lupe Fiasco – Kick, Push Pt’s 1&2
The Roots – How I Got Over
B.O.B ft. Bruno Mars – Nothin’ On You
Outkast – The Train


Pharrell said in "Us-Placers": "I wonder how God is gonna paint today's canvas..."
Well, I can only wonder what new songs are gonna be added to my soundtrack, before it comes to an end....

When Life Takes Over...

Arghhhh!!!!

Can I get 5 free mins to write a friggin proper post??? Please????

Muthaf*%&a!!!!

*end rant*

Life Without Words...

I'm back...but not with a flourish. I've slipped back into this space the same way I slipped out, very quietly.

I owe my few readers an apology. I haven't felt very motivated to write the past couple of months. I felt what I had to say wasn't very relevant, was cliched, or even worse than being cliched, was just plain old. So I stopped. I fell back into that old habit of internalizing everything. And a familiar thing started back happening last week. I started feeling depressed again.

I'm not depressive, mind you. But what I realise now, is that when I don't get my shit out, it starts weighing on me. And for the life of me I could not figure that out. Then my girlfriend (and Spotty Cuss too) asked me the magic question: "why have you stopped writing?" And I finally came to answer today. I stopped, because I grew scared. And when I stopped writing, I stopped giving myself an outlet for my frustrations and my thoughts. I realised that my depression, was my own damn fault.

So once again, I have raised my voice. If you don't think it's relevant, I'm sorry, but fuck it and fuck you. I've realised that more than just wanting to do this, or liking doing this, I need to do this.

So I'm back, and pulling no punches.

Welcome back, bitches...

Rehab...

This was written on a Tuesday morning, hence the weird timeline... This post is especially open to opinions and theories. Bring it, and we'll discuss it...

As I have mentioned way too many times before, the Spotty Cuss and I have a true big brother-little sister relationship. She purposefully does things to annoy the hell out of me, like bbm’ing me (Blackberry-messaging for the uninitiated) at ridiculous hours of the morning because she can’t sleep, and probably because her S.O. learned long ago what I’m now figuring out to do (basically, if it ain’t a call, the only tone to leave on, on your berry, is the alarm). I try to share wisdom when it’s needed, and let her figure stuff out on her own when it’s warranted. So when she bbm’ed me this morning that she hated Tuesdays more than Mondays, I had to inform her that Tuesday is like the second stage of rehab. And with that the light bulb went on. What if the work week really is like rehab? What if the weekend is a drug that we have to be weaned off? What would be the stages? How would this work???? Before I could let the idea percolate properly, or finish my bbm convo with cuss (seriously, she is still bbm’ing me right now), I opened a new Word document. So here we have it, the work week in terms of rehab:


Monday – Denial/Withdrawal

What? The weekend can’t be over. Just yesterday, I had a bake and shark in meh hand, meh toes in the sand, and ah cool sea breeze caressing me and the land. Steups, why Monday had to come, dread? I really had to come to work this morning???? And that’s how Mondays go. You don’t want to really come to work. The weekend doesn’t feel as though it should be over. You’re wishing for that one last blowout, to round out the fun that just ended. You’re still in that weekend flow. The reality is now setting in. You’re hoping the feel-good factor lasts you at least through the rest of the day…

Tuesday – Full Blown Withdrawal

I submit this case study to back up my point (submitted by patient K. Hall):

Disclaimer: It is one of those days, so for the next 8 or so hours, I will be saying some random ass shit that may offend. Doh take it on. If you do however take it on, Fuck off, I couldn’t care less!

This kind of shit only tends to happen on Tuesdays. You’re cranky and irritable. You may or may not have a migraine from the ass-wipe in IT who can’t fix that problem with your PC that your 4-year old could fix, McGuyver-style, with a paperclip, some scotch tape, and one of those disposable paper cups from the water cooler. In 2 mins 43secs, to boot. Your boss may be in line to make the evening news in a missing persons report due to the fact he just fucked up your schedule for the week. In short, the residual euphoria you had on Monday, is now completely gone, with no relief in sight. Oh yes, Sol, there shall be fucking murders… (and if you need help with that reference, you need to pick up a copy of Snatch. Now.)

Wednesday – Acceptance

Ahhh, Wednesday. You’ve made it past the worst part of your weekend withdrawal. You are now in state of ambivalence. You may be in full flight work mode. Your productivity may never be higher. You’re tearing through that stack of paper work, like a hot knife thought butter. Your focus is impeccable. Why? Cuz the weekend is firmly in your rear view mirror now. That shit is gone, bed-rock, immutable. You’re fully focused on the tasks in front of you. You’re Gordon Gecko on a $100 speedball. Man, you’re so engrossed in your shit, that you don’t even realize when the work day ends. Which brings us to…

Thursday – Craving

Thursday, is very similar to Wednesday. You have that same drive. Your focus is still there. Except, there is one little thing. Smokers who are trying to quit, know what that one thing is. It’s that pesky feeling you get, when you’re stressed, or when you come into the vicinity of other smokers, who are enjoying a cig. You start thinking, “God, I could really use a blends…” Well, Thursday is that craving. I mean, the cig/urge to start liming that afternoon is right there.  I mean, one little pull/lime won’t hurt, would it? Nah, it wouldn’t. It’s just…one…little…

Friday – Relapse

It’s FFFFFFFRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIDDDDDDDDDAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!
Submit yourself to the bestial carnality of the carefree emotion that is the beginning of a new weekend. Embrace it. Revel in it. Love it. Hold it like a long-awaited lover, who has just jumped off a plane for the first time in years. Make it yours. Nuff said.

And then, brace for the crash all over again when Monday comes. That guilty feeling of having fallen off the wagon, and indulging yourself to excess. The familiarity of the need for the high that is Saturday and Sunday all over again. Hmmm. Maybe cuss does have a point. Ah frack it. Now I hate fracking Tuesday’s too, goddammit. Thanks, Cuss... :s

He's My God, and I'll Praise Him Out Loud if I Want To...

I try to keep the subject of religion out of this space. In my opinion, religion is one of the most divisive influences in society today. That’s the major reason why you will always hear me say that I am spiritual, not necessarily religious. I am not ashamed of my religion, mind you. I proudly plan to leave this physical realm an Anglican (be it practicing or non-practicing). I also respect everyone else’s religious beliefs. Unquestioningly. However, every now and again, someone comes along who feels the need to try and impose their doctrine on me. And each and every time, it unerringly makes me want to slap the shit out of them. I had one such moment about a month ago.


My idea of God is a bit unconventional (see here for an idea and here for a visual). I see him as a more of a benevolent father-figure, guiding us through life with our best interests in mind, than a fire-and-brimstone wielding tyrant, waiting to strike us down at the slightest indiscretion. That does not mean that I believe not listening to him is without consequence. There are always ramifications. I just believe he is way more loving and forgiving than a lot of people give him credit for. So with that mindset, I posted the following FB status one day:

“Chad Hall thinks that God should stick to his day job, cuz he sucks as a comedian.”

I got some comments of course, most of them of the concerned variety. And then came the comment that literally made me want to perpetrate the above-mentioned violence on the poster:

FB “Friend”: “some things are better left unsaid…”

(ok, gimme a sec, fighting urge to rant uncontrollably in uncommonly foul language…)

(…)

(and I’m good...)

I won’t even begin to address the fact that this person came on to MY fb page, to tell me that I shouldn’t post MY thoughts and MY beliefs there. That goes without saying. The part that really drove my ire, is the implication that because my beliefs don’t dovetail nicely with theirs, they are irrelevant and thus should not even be aired in open. In short, due to their belief, they are superior to me. Really? Is that how it works now? I’m not allowed to even question God anymore? Really? Not even a “God, where are you going with this?” I’m not doubting his method, ya know, I’m just asking politely. The last time I checked, Job told God he sucked once. And look how it worked out for him. So, is that what’s really popping in the streets now? Your way is the only way, so I should just shut the hell up about what my beliefs are? Wow…

The sad thing is that stuff like this is not an isolated event even today. In this age of freedom and equal rights, there are still people who place their personal religious beliefs over the basic human rights of other people. I constantly get into arguments with co-workers over simple matters like gay rights. For example, the image above is largely used to represent spiritualism, instead of any one religion. It signifies, to me, that all religions have their pluses and minuses. Even though the bedrock of my belief is Christianity, that does not mean that I hold those tenets to be superior to any other religion or faith. I also have the image as the background on my phone. I showed it to a co-worker who is staunchly catholic. He recoiled as though I had just shown him a pentagram. When I asked him what the issue was, his response was that the image struck him as being “weird”. I guess the implication that I wasn’t strictly beholden to any one particular set of religious ideals, but a basic cornucopia with Christianity as the foundation, unsettled him. In short, I put him outside his comfort zone religiously, and his instant reaction was to reject (to the point where he physically reacted) the notion that there may be other ideas of what God might be like outside of what he believes. And I find that strangely sad and depressing.

I am not trying to get anyone to change their beliefs. I am not trying to start a movement. Hell, you don’t even have to agree with what I believe. I don’t care. My beliefs are exactly that: my beliefs. I am finding my own path to God and Godliness, you need to find yours. But do not tell me that my faith is irrelevant because it does not follow your tenets. Do not assert authority over me because my vision of God does not fit nicely into your doctrine. Even a hate-mongerer is entitled to his opinion, and the right to express it (as long as he's tasteful). You don’t know for sure, as much as I don’t know for sure. That’s why it’s called a belief and not a fact. But I’ll leave you with this little messed up thought: for all the time you spend beating down my beliefs, and thumping your chest and your Bible while pushing your religious fervor on me, what if we’re both wrong, and the Jehovah Witnesses* were right all along????

*Witnesses believe that only 144,000 of us are getting into heaven. Period. Total. Don't ask me about the math.

Quickie Reasonings, Vol. 2...

Our second edition of Quickie Reasonings. These are items/things that either don’t merit my full attention, or where my opinion can be summoned in a brief snapshot. So here we go…



1. So Tiger was sexting Joselyn James. Joselyn James. Come on, Tiger. You sure you didn’t get your James pornstars mixed up, and were actually going Jayden? Then again, a cutass from Chuck Lidell for fucking his girl off camera ain’t cool and ain’t cute…

2. John Terry broke some basic man laws, and is getting everything he deserves. Your best friend’s baby mama is off limits. Period. Not even the “you can date my sister, but you better be marrying her” rule applies here. Ashley Cole simply need to watch Bill Bellamy in “How To Be A Player.” Over and Over. Until he learns how to not get caught. Then again, I don't think even James Bond could teach this dude how not to get caught...

3. As a matter of fact, no multimillionaire athletes should even consider marriage before they turn 35 and/or are retired about 3-4 years. I have never seen a more perfect marriage of temptation, opportunity, paparazzi, too young and dumb to have a pre-nup, and let me just give up 50% of my total worth, in my life.

4. I think Kobe needs to have a sit down with Ben Roethlisberger real quick…

5. FCB employees are covered by NATUC, but NGC’s aren’t??? WTF??? How does that work???

6. The speed at which a woman is allowed to cross the road, is relative to her hotness. In short, if you’re Zoe Saldana in a short skirt with pumps, you can take from now till December 21, 2012. Don’t worry, I’ll wait. If you’re Mo’Nique in Precious, you need to step lively, sister. Men simply need to jog at all times. Better to be safe than sorry…

7. You got the smoking law passed. It’s now in effect. Rejoice. That being said, DO NOT come into my designated space, and tell me my smoking is bothering you. In fact, do not even imply that maybe my smoking is affect your enjoyment of a relaxing evening. You have decided to leave the comfort of your legally-defined, safe zone to enter my free space. As such you will deal with my choice to fill this space with second hand, nicotine-laden gas. And no, I don’t care that your elderly grandfather is being bothered by the smoke. His place is inside. Along with your selfish ass.

8. And watching me cut-eye and whispering to your peoples ain’t gonna make me feel ashamed or apologetic either.

9. Payday needs to come fast, and my back pay with it. Brother got bills to pay…

Soul Reasonings: A Box Of Chocolates...

(Note: This argument is made using the sole variable of sexual experience. All other variables (looks, personality, common interests, etc) are all held to equal, and thus disregarded. It is also not mean to rag on the “good girls” out there.)


“Why should I settle for one kind of chocolate, when I can have the entire box?”

“Chad, hear this…”

It was the usual beginning to the debates a partner and I normally have from time to time. Over the period of time that I have known him, I have found him to be equally pragmatic and dogmatic, often within the same conversation. So my interest was instantly piqued. He started with a story this time. Apparently, he had recently limed with an old acquaintance of his. And I mean acquaintance in the purest of terms. He knew her through a friend, and did not know her all that well. However, that first introduction had lead to a one night stand. Afterwards, she returned to lands afar, and they did not keep in touch. Therefore, this chance meeting came completely out of the blue. To his confusion, she was cool. To be specific and more clear, she acted more social (as a trini you know what this means) than friendly. This then spurred my own confusion. What was the problem? It was just a one nighter, right? There were no expectations. In his mind, due to the fact that they had slept together, there should have been more familiarity between them. He even admitted that his ego had been slightly bruised by her reaction. I grew even more confused. Then, came the debate-starter: “Whaeva, yes. That probably just mean she is ah bad ting…”

The quote at the start of this story came from an unusual source. I was living in the Atl (shawty) at the time. While hanging out with a friend of mine, I met an interesting young lady. No sparks ever flew, there was no mutual attraction, but the simple conversation was engaging. In the course of the discussion, the topic of male-female relations and sex came up, as it always does. The young lady was single, and completely happy so. A bit confused, I asked her why. Her response is now immortalized at the top of this blog post, as well as in my memory. Why? It was surprising, and refreshing, to hear a woman speak so openly about her sexuality. And it is here; sadly, that debate often turns into mud-slinging and name-calling.

It never ceases to amaze me how taboo the subject of female sexuality can be, even today. Even if one throws out the traditional gender roles that have been ingrained in society, there are still religious biases with which to contend. Personally, I have never conformed to any these. The concept that a women is beholden to a different set of sexual conventions, based solely on the fact that she is a woman, has always rung with me as being hollow and hypocritical. What makes a woman a slut, a whore, or a “bad ting”? Is it numbers? Disposition? Attitude? And why is it that the concept of a woman enjoying sex purely for the enjoyment of sex’s sake provokes such a strong response? In short, why is the idea of a sexually-liberated woman such a big deal?

I will avoid my view on the religious aspect for the simple reason that I’m not comfortable with dragging religion into this particular argument. I’m sorry but, in my experience, nothing makes people more irrational or judgmental, than arguing anything based on religious grounds. It’s like all common sense or rationality gets thrown out in the trash when you start introducing religious elements. (I’m spiritual btw, not religious). So why are sexual gender roles hypocritical in my view? Well, skipping past the well worn, feminist argument, there is the simple fact that we happen to benefit from it. I’m sorry, but if I may be so blunt, if I have to chose between a demure “good girl” who is still figuring out her sexual identity, and a “bad ting” who is familiar and comfortable with her body and her sense of self, give me the “bad ting” anyday, and twice on Friday nights. (I consider it a bonus if she drinks). Why? Because she is 10x more likely to know what she wants, how she wants it, and when she wants it. There tends to be an open-mindedness which invites open discourse on “adult” topics. Sex stopped being taboo about 40 years ago, people. Deal with it.

So for the second time of asking, and ultimately, what makes a woman a “bad ting”? I don’t think anyone truly knows. I have heard arguments run from specific numbers (I’ve heard numbers as low as 4 partners), to the asinine argument of “she cyah have more numbers than me.” My opinion? Who cares? I’ve been with women who had more partners than me, and I have been with a woman where I was her second sexual partner total. I have an ex who (before she met me), made a bet with one of her liming partners to see who could sleep with a man from each state of the US in a certain timeframe. And you know what? I did not care. Why? More than being a woman, and being constrained by silly concepts of what women can’t/shouldn’t do, I just saw her as an adult making an adult decision. As long as she was safe and responsible about it, who was/am I to judge? Besides, that thing she does with her tongue that makes your toes literally curl? Chances are it was perfected on not just one other person, but a couple other persons. Really. Go ask. I’ll wait while you find out. Ok. Feel any better or worse? And do you really care how many people it took for her to perfect it? And if so why? She’s doing it to you now, right? I’m telling you, this has to be the only situation where quality control has an inverse relationship between numbers tested and satisfaction gained. It makes no friggin’ sense.

I didn’t try to change my partner’s opinion on whether his one night stand was really a “bad ting” or not. I know him well enough to know that trying to do that is a lesson in futility. On the flip side, another partner once had an interesting take on the matter. According to his thesis, a prostitute is open about the fact that she has sex with multiple men, she tends to be safe about it, and she isn’t ashamed to showcase her skills or where she learned them. That’s more than you can say about the average woman. (Let’s ignore the obvious payment factor for argument’s sake). Who has the more mature and progressive mindset in this case? And you know what? His argument has a lot of salient points. So even though it will probably come to an end one day, I hope that young woman enjoyed her box of chocolates while it lasted. Because we are really too quick to lambaste women for having the courage to figure out which flavor really tickles their fancy. Now excuse me, there’s a “bad ting” I’m eyeing that I’m trying to convince to try out some mocha chocolate…

43 Ways to Drive Yourself Batshit Crazy...

(Warning: This is loooooong…)


Literary lockjaw. Creative constipation. Writer’s block. They are all the same thing. And I have it. Badly. The strange thing is, I have ideas on what I want to write. I just don’t know how to get it out. I concede that my best writing normally comes out when I am emotionally invested in the subject. I believe that’s how it works for most artists. My problem is that I have so much pent up emotion right now, that my creative spigot is clogged. Everything is rushing to come out all at the same time. So, in the hope of jump-starting my flow, I have decided to simply list out everything that is weighing on me right now. Besides, who doesn’t love lists? Who knows, I may be able to pick the topics one by one afterwards and deal with them then. But as it stands right now, I need release. So with that diatribe out the way, I now present to you, Triniyute’s Guide to Creative Constipation, aka. 43 Ways to Drive Yourself Batshit Crazy for No Good Reason Whatsoever…

1. Bring in New Year walking  an emotional tightrope.

2. Give ex-girlfriend who you still love space to sort out her emotional upheaval (which is unrelated to you) on her own, knowing full well she has a new S.O. (who you secretly wouldn’t mind braining with a full Carib bottle) who is in the right place at the right time.

3. Attempt to convince friends that you are doing the “right/mature thing” with regards to situation detailed in point 2.

4. Attempt to convince self that you are doing the “right/mature” thing with regards situation detailed in point 2.

5. Resist urge to brain self with above mentioned Carib bottle, when ex’s new S.O. solidifies position due to your doing the “right/mature” thing with regards situation detailed in point 2.

6. Start Carnival festivities with short paycheck due to clerical fuck-up in Head Office.

7. Receive news from friend that potentially crazy woman is running around Toronto telling people that she has a man back in Trinidad (with the understanding that you are the referenced “man”).

8. Avoid one of better fetes for the year when practically all of your crew is going, because it is held by the work place of your ex’s S.O., so you know they will be there.

9. Ironically, go to birthday lime of another ex who was big bone of contention in your relationship, in order to have excuse for not going fete. (Score bonus points for feeling completely awkward and out of place, since the two of you now have basically nothing in common, and you’re wondering why you were invited in the first place. Extra, extra bonus points for noting irony in situation )

10. Hangout with ex at annual Carnival house lime. Watch new S.O. pick her up from your house while noticing demon rage etched on his face.

11. Hang out with potentially crazy woman at free drinks fetes.

12. Cop a feel of potentially crazy woman while drunk at one of those free drinks fete.

13. Regret alcohol-induced decision to cop a feel of potentially crazy woman while drunk at one of those free drinks fete, very next day.

14. Go funeral of cool cousin.

15. Have panic attack in shower after funeral of cool cousin.

16. Not make reception due to panic attack in shower after funeral of cool cousin.

17. Go to cooler fete with potentially crazy woman that night.

18. Meet completely cool woman (funnily also from Toronto) and connect while at cooler fete.

19. Notice potentially crazy woman flashing you strange looks while connecting with completely cool woman at cooler fete.

20. Be informed by friend that potentially crazy woman has cancelled all plans to lime with you all for the rest of Carnival weekend.

21. Upgrade potentially crazy woman to probably crazy woman. Thank God for blessings bestowed.

22. Play Jouvert with completely cool woman, and discover what may be legit connection there.

23. Play Monday Mas. Have a time. Palance with friends who own /operate a bar. Get wasted. Have a woman palance on your big toe with the heel of a pair of high-heeled boots. Run into probably crazy woman. Get snubbed.

24. Upgrade probably crazy woman to crazy woman. Thank God for blessings bestowed.

25. Get up at ridiculously early hour on Carnival Tuesday to carry friend to make up appointment with ex.

26. Realise that ex is giving you cold shoulder treatment. Be confused.

27. Play Tuesday Mas. Be wasted by midday. Recover in time for evening festivities. Realise there may be a serious problem with toe that was palanced on day before. Ignore pain. Substitute alcohol for ibuprofen. Get snubbed by crazy woman again. Thank God for blessings bestowed.

28. Spend rest of vacation limping around on one foot because of severely bruised toe.

29. Spend completely cool woman’s last night in country with her. Realise she is cooler than you previously suspected. Promise to stay in touch and just see where things lead. Wonder if God is catching jollies at your expense.

30. Have discussion with aunt, detailing fact that fund set up to cover college loan expenses is now tapped out, due to ever increasing interest rate. Realise you have only covered about half of loan.

31. Return to work. Get promptly put on desk duty for 2 weeks due to severely bruised toe.

32. Receive short paycheck due to clerical fuck-up in Head Office.

33. Have 2 birthday limes, plus various other ridiculous, unforeseen, expenses pop up on short check.

34. Run into ex while hanging out at favored bar. Confirm that she is giving you cold shoulder treatment. Have cousin and liming partner confirm it. Notice certain new facets of behavior that is now a little worrying. Resist urge to brain self with Carib bottle.

35. Have good friend show up crying on doorstep with baby-daddy issues.

36. Have baby sister pull down blog, which is one of her pride and joys, due to unspecified events.

37. E-mail, text and talk on the phone to completely cool woman who is back in Toronto. Realise there is room for growth if you let it. Realise that she lives in another country. Realise you are still emotionally invested in your ex. Realise that you are dangerously close to recreating every single horrible relationship decision you have ever made.

38. Really wonder if God is catching his jollies right now.

39. Find out you are being blacklisted from potential advancement opportunity at job, for unknown reasons.

40. Explore options. Find out that your best advancement opportunities now lay in the UK…and Canada.

41. Tell God he has a cruel sense of humour.

42. Realise that crazy woman didn’t really delete you from Facebook, but had merely blocked you, and has now unblocked you. Upgrade crazy woman to serial nutjob. Thank God for blessings bestowed.

43. Write list, and post on blog.


And that is my easy 43-step Guide to Creative Constipation. All standard disclaimers apply.

(Please note, the author is not responsible for the effects of following the instructions on this list. Side effects may include, hair loss, wailing, gnashing of teeth, high blood pressure, increased drinking, increased smoking, inability to sleep, want/need to sleep more and general anti-social behavior. Pregnant woman should not follow this list, nor should the easily depressed or worked up…)

Through God and Beers

I did an interesting thing Sunday morning, around 2am. I came home from liming by the bar, and was looking for an interesting yet concise way to summarise my night into my FB status. What came out was a simple 3-line conversation that I supposedly had with God, over some drinks. While I know this style is used heavily in I Just Febrezed My Dog and 365 Days of Silence, I do remember at least reserving the right to borrow his style for at least 1 posting, from Mr. Ross. Now if this offends you, sorry, it wasn't meant to. And bear with me, this is my first attempt at a "script", so please be gentle with the criticism, :). So that being said:


Thru God and Beers (Or in my case, JWB)

Setting: An upscale bar… Chad drinking JWB, God drinking red wine…

Chad Hall: (looking slightly lost and forlorn) *Sigh*

God: (struggling to contain laughter) I dunno what yuh sighing and looking like yuh dog dead for, yuh know. I fed up talk to yuh.

CH: And? Yuh point is?

God: Yuh blinking harden, dat is meh point. Right now you running like a “B”-movie. The story now start, and I already seeing how it going to end.

CH: Oh really? And how this going to play out?

God: Come nah man. All yuh peoples seeing it. Sin seeing it, Wiles seeing it, Ko seeing it. Hell, I pretty sure Ze and Ging seeing it and would tell yuh, but Google doh have a canine-to-english translator. You really not seeing it?

CH: Yuh know, I’m glad one of us seeing the comedy in this…

God: So I’m supposed to deny my sense of humor because you being stubborn and playing the ass? How that helping me or you? Because I trying to teach you a life-lesson, doesn’t mean I can’t laugh at the situation. Ah mean, the situation funny and you did create it…

CH: (Watching God strangely at the use of the word “ass”)

God: What? Because allyuh make “ass” a kinda “dirty” word, I can’t use it? I have a book with the word printed about 3 million and one times in it. Look, allyuh ‘llow me, eh…

CH: See? Is dat kinda outta timing… I does really wonder how we does lime sometimes yuh know…

God: Cuz is ah love. And I look out for you. And yuh owe meh more favors than yuh think. And you does invite me to lime, anyway. With that, your rounds. And get some bread to go with the wine this time, feeling a bit peckish…

End scene…

New Look...

Ooooooh, we sexay nowwwww...

More seriously though, I figured it was time to upgrade from the "toolbox" template that Blogger has been so kind to provide us. Think of it as growing up in blog terms. I also wanted the blog to have a more personal feel. After all, it is my space for my thoughts. So, in keeping with the contradictory asshole that I am, I turned to an outside source to design a banner and redesign the layout for me. So now that the sighing, head-shaking and steupsing has died down, all I have to say is, damn Spotty Cuss, you do good work. (Who else did you think I would turn to?)

In the short period of time that I have known Tammy, I have found her to be stubborn, out-spoken, and to literally have no cover for her mouth. In short, I value her friendship dearly, and consider her to be a little sister. I have a rule for my friendships. I don't keep my friends because they are sycophants. I keep them because they have the fearlessness to pull me aside and tell me squarely "dread, yuh fucking up." Tammy fits this mold perfectly. She is also kind, loyal and thoughtful. So when I approached her to redesign my page, I simply told her to go with whatever feelings my blog inspire in her. I then gave her my login and password, and told her to run wild. No limitations, complete creative control. And I love the result.

So thanks, Cuss. As usual, you pulled it out again :)

Broken Promises

I owe all 8 of my followers (well those that I know of) an apology. I promised a series of articles over a period of time and failed to deliver them. This is inexcusable, and you deserve an explanation. But one is owed a bigger apology than the rest. Not for me failing to post some random scribblings, but for failing to be there as I promised. This is not me asking for pity. This February was a crazy month. It was supposed to be my time to palance (and for those fed up of the term, I promise it’s the last time you will see it in this space). I had grand plans. The Hurricane was coming in. The festivities were set to begin. And then I received another brutal reminder of the mortality that rules us all.


I normally take vacation from the Monday before the arrival of the Hurricane, till the Friday after her departure. It’s normally difficult to keep up with her when I have nothing to do, much less when I have work the following morning. The night her flight was to touch down, I received a call from my sister. Her cousin, Roger, had died. To say I was disbelieving would be a minor understatement. This was a guy who I had just partied and celebrated with at her wedding. A proper month had barely passed since I last saw him. He was a young guy too. Had just turned 40, the day before my sister’s wedding. And he hadn’t been ill either. “Pulmonary embolism leading to sudden cardiac arrest,” they said. In layman’s terms, he had a blood clot, and it found its way into his heart. And suddenly, the previous month and a half all came rushing back.

I have been to 4 funerals, between the dates of Christmas Eve 2009, and Carnival Friday 2010. I have known each of the deceased personally. 3 out of the 4 were young lives that ended too soon, and the 4th was a life that deserved to go on forever, in my humble opinion. I cried after the first one, when I did not even know I had tears that needed to be shed. I manned up, and made it through the second and third, without waterworks. Roger broke my spirit. I promised to return to his parents’ house after I left the funeral. I spent 45 mins in the shower alternating between dry heaving and hyper-ventilating. I couldn’t do it. I went out the night and tried to get completely sloshed. I was halfway successful. And then I basically ghosted through the rest of Carnival. I think the only person who knew something was wrong, was the Hurricane. And I thank her for helping me hold my shit together, when she knew I was falling apart.

Things haven exactly lightened up either. The biggest thing is that my mother’s cousin is in a NY hospital, and is in the endgame stage of his fight with cancer. This man helped raise me when I was young. I consider him to be one of my father figures. My great aunt has already dreamed that he came to tell her goodbye. I’m struggling right now. As old folk say, plain talk, bad manners.

I haven’t been honest to the intent of my blog. I have been holding shit in, in the misguided belief that I would be fine. That I did not need to let it out. Well I’m not. And now I don’t know where to begin.

I owe my eldest sister the biggest apology. I reneged on a bigger promise to her to come back to the house. J, I don’t know if I can make up not being there. I am sorry. I hope you can forgive me.



Chad

Carnival Reasonings, Vol. 2... Hot Sun and Riddim

Ok, so we’ve gotten an early jump on my project for February 2010. It’s all good though. Sometimes, when the spirit moves you, you can’t do anything other than go for the ride. With that being said, this post is a bit different from my previous entries. For the first time ever, I have a guest writer. Even more strangely, I didn’t ask him to write a damn thing for me! (Go figure). But Kory is more of my baby brother (who dwarfs me physically, but I digress) than my baby cousin. So if ANYONE gets free reign and first choice in submitting unsolicited material, it would be him. (Btw, unsolicited submissions are always welcomed, helps out when I have writer’s block, but I’m digressing again). Anyway, Kory is the baby cousin who, ahem, “accompanied” me on those lovely 4am trips down to Jouvert. And this is his take on the moment he fell in love with Carnival. I present to you:


All We Need is Hot Sun and Riddim! By Kory Hall

After reading Carnival Reasonings, Vol. 1... Carnival Baby, I was hurtled into a wave of memories that reach its crescendo at approximately 5:30pm on carnival Tuesday back in 1989. Only 8 years old, I was witness to one of the few truly magical moments of Carnival; David Rudder, Charlie’s Roots and Minshall Mas outside De Mas Camp Pub. Any Trini who’s worth a doubles with slight knows exactly what that means. The haunting yet enticing blare of the brass, the beat of the drum, the chant of a man who’s talent is unmistakably blessed, all combined to create a connection to the Tribal roots of this diverse nation of ours.

Now most eight year olds are usually concerned with their next Mario bros fix, but not this day. That day I became one with my country and my culture. It enveloped me. Hugged me and told me I belonged. Like my alcoholic cousin (fuh sure we related), I was often irritated by the grown up need to drag us everywhere they went, but I realized now what they were doing. The intent behind the upheaval of our clueless childhood was to create two more full blooded, mad ass Trinis who would Palance their way into the future with the sole purpose of spreading this seed of bliss to our children. Almost sounds like a body snatchers flick, but who cares.



Well said, Kory. Well said.

Carnival Reasonings, Vol. 1... Carnival Baby

I am a Carnival Baby. No, I was not born in November. I was not conceived to the background soundtrack of the iron and the bass. My mother was not a huge Carnival lover (though she did love it in her own way), and I do not know what my father’s opinion was of this festive time of year. Yet, I am a Carnival Baby. How, you ask? Well, let me tell you a story. There is no definitive start date to this story/love affair, and its end has yet to be written. But the story starts off in what used to be a sleepy suburb of Port of Spain called Woodbrook. Why “used to be”? Well, Woodbrook is now a beehive of activity that more closely resembles St. James on any given night. But once upon a time, Woodbrook was largely quiet. It was the domain of the elderly, and the young. Except for 2 largely floating days out of every year. Then, all hell would break loose.


My earliest memories of Carnival involve me being rudely awakened at 4 in the morning, by my great-aunt, to go see Jouvert. I couldn’t have been older than 7 at the time. Yet I do know it was a yearly occurrence. Every year, I would get dragged out of my bed, forcibly get dressed, and then be forced to head down to the stands on Independence Square. Why? To see my mother cross the stage as she played Jouvert with my aunts and their friends. Let’s disregard the fact that we couldn’t see shit from where we sat, just for brevity’s and common sense’s sakes. Let’s also disregard the pitying looks I received from people wondering why a 7-year old was up and out at that hour. Finally, let’s disregard the fact that waking me up at 4 in morning on what was ostensibly a public holiday, pissed me to fuck off. And the torture did not end there. Oh no. After reaching home at 7 in the morning, I then had to be back up by at least 9:30, to go up the stands in Adam Smith Square, to watch the bands. There was no one to leave me home with, as my babysitters both loved taking in the parade of the bands. We then would be out there till roughly 6 in the evening. Even though, my younger cousin would be with me through out this entire ordeal, you would think I had more than enough reason to actively despise Carnival. But that’s the funny thing. Except for the getting up at the ungodly hour part, I ate that shit up. I loved Carnival. I was hooked. And I have remained hooked ever since.

It’s hard to describe what Carnival does to me. (You can stop snickering now. I know I run a blog. I know it’s filled with diatribes about how the vicissitudes of different events have affected me. So, yes, I see the irony. And yes, fuck you too :p). The best description I ever heard was given to me by my then-girlfriend. She spent the entire weekend at my place. On Carnival Sunday night, we made a chaser run (and if you have to ask what a chaser run is, you really don’t know me). On the way back, we passed across Ariapita Avenue. Everywhere, there were people setting up bars, selling clothes, DJ’s doing sound tests on their music trucks. People were already hanging out at the established bars, drinking and wining. I mean, it was 9 ‘o clock on a Sunday night, and the Avenue was alive. When we stopped at a traffic light (which happens to be at the same corner with 2 VERY popular bars), she looked at me and asked, with just a tinge of awe: “You can actually feel the energy, can’t you?” And I knew exactly what she was talking about. The energy she referred to, it doesn’t just sustain you. It drives you. You feel it seeping in through your skin. It is the greatest stimulant in the world. For 2 days, you literally feel no fatigue. And that’s if you’re just passing through. I have lived in the heart of Carnival Central (Woodbrook) all my life. (Woodbrook has the largest Mas Camp per capita ratio in the world. Hell, our oldest and most notable bar is named De Mas Camp Pub). That energy has been infused in me, since my birth. It is part of my life-force. For 10 months out of the year, my life is made up of hitting bars and house limes. I avoid clubs and parties like the bubonic plague. It has even proven to be a minor strain on a couple of my past relationships. I basically go into hibernation, from a partying perspective. And then, a funny thing starts happening around Christmas.

Now, with all due respect to the birthday of our Lord, Christmas is not my favourite time of year. Christmas lost a lot of its luster for me, roughly 5 years ago. It tried to make a very strong comeback last year, but then basically gave up the fight this year. So, it’s practically dead for me in terms of being a festive holiday. It does, however, signal the beginning of my season. I actually start listening to the radio. I slowly begin rounding into drinking shape. (An especially important fact this year, taking into account that Trinidad actually has a breathalyzer for the first time ever). I start becoming liable to wine on a woman at the drop of hat. A partner’s co-worker was rudely introduced to this fact when we were liming at the usual Friday after-work drinking hole. (My excuse at the time and exact quote: “Oh gaaaaaaad, de hubby not here yet!!!!!!!”) I’m not sure if she has recovered from the shock yet. I start turning into an insomniac. I try to hit every fete imaginable, health and finances permitting. Basically, that energy starts to power and flow through me. And I feed off of it until midnight, Ash Wednesday morning.

I’m not going to get into all my stories here. This post is merely supposed to be the introduction to a series of posts on why I love Carnival, my opinions of some of the major players, and where I think it’s going. As usual, they are just my humble thoughts on something that I truly love and cherish. And the best part about it, is that it comes around annually. With that being said, let me bring this introduction to an end. I have 8 contractual hours to fulfill before I can go shock another woman by randomly yelling, “Oh gaaaaaaaaad…”

Pardon the interruption...

Hey folk. Sorry for the break, but I promise I haven't gone anywhere. Working on a couple of posts that will be up starting Feb 1st, and also on some new stuff with Spotty Cuss. Thanks for the patience, :).

Be Stupid...

Sometimes, it just pays to be stupid...

Thanks Q...

Soul Sounds...

This track needs no introduction. It is also helping me to keep focused and motivated in the midst of a tempest of adversity.

Mos Def - Umi Says

Soul Reasonings Quickies...

Why are ppl so upset about Tiger? Are we really that suprised that a 30-yr old millionaire athlete cheated on his wife? Really? No-one saw this coming? Really?

Gilbert Arenas is not an asshole. That is giving assholes a bad name. He is a syphillitic c*nt...

People are making a bigger deal out of this Beyonce scene than there really needs to be...

As a matter of fact, anybody knows anyone who really have a grand to throw out like that?

On the other hand, the all-inclusive promoters need to take it down for the same reason. The Carnival folk who bitching about Beyonce, need to bitch about them-there prices...

I really just said "them-there"???!!!???

Damn, take the boy out the ATL, but...

Stolen... (From Spotty Cuss)

Keeping it simple...

GIVEN NAME: Chad Ian Peter Campbell-Hall (aka Chad Peter Hall to my peeps)

IF YOU COULD CHANGE ONE THING RIGHT NOW: Status

LAST TIME YOU CRIED: Sunday

SOMETHING YOU LOVE TO EAT: BK (I’m addicted, what can I say?)

WORST FEELING IN THE WORLD: Hurting those you love

BEST FEELING IN THE WORLD: Passing my SAP FI exam

SOMETHING YOU'RE PROUD OF: See “Best Feeling”

DO YOU HAVE A JOURNAL: This blog is my journal. (Preach, cuss)

PET PEEVES: Being ignored. Nothing riles me faster…

DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG: Not sure. Then again a friend told me that I’m much stronger than other people or even I give me credit for. So go figure…

WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE: Surpisingly, body language. How they carry themselves.

WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF: My inability to let things go. My penchant for dwelling on the past.

WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST: Mom, and the other person knows who they are.

WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW: Jazz playlist.

LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED: Avatar.

WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING: Hip-Hop Revolution.

THE FURTHEST YOU BEEN FROM HOME: Toronto

SOMETHING YOU'RE LONGING FOR: Peace of Mind, and a renewed sense of direction and self.

TATTOOS: None. But they coming.

DO YOU BELIEVE IN GOD: Yes, I do. And it pisses me off to see the shit people do in “His” name.

WHAT IS YOUR PASSION: Reading/Writing/Music

FAVOURITE COLOUR: Right now? Grey

SOMETHING YOU WANT TO DO IN THE FUTURE: Travel the world. Especially Eastern Europe and South America.

DO YOU SEE MARRIAGE IN YOUR FUTURE: I don’t know. Need to find someone and not fuck it up this time

WHERE DO YOU WANT TO BE RIGHT NOW: In my bed…

SOMETHING YOU REGRET: Refer to the following posts: here and here

SOMEONE YOU REALLY ADMIRE: My Mom.

3 WORDS TO DESCRIBE YOU: Loyal. Laidback. Introspective.

GOAL FOR 2010: To quote someone smart: Live, Love, Laugh.

While you're waiting, kinda...

Sorry for the delay, folks. The 22nd fast cometh, and exams with it. If I see or come up with anything truly post-worthy, I'll write on it. Otherwise, bear with me:)

Happy Belated New Year's to all yall :)