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...
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
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
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
Friday, April 16, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
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…
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…
Thursday, March 11, 2010
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…
“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…
Monday, March 8, 2010
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…)
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…)
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
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…
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…
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