Au Revoir Mon Petites Vaches...

I love cows, I think they are cute beyond words and also scary :/
(I'm pretty proud of my French for being so rusty :D)

Right:

This being my last post, I thought I'd talk about (well it was suggested I talk about) this experience...

I won't deny that it was a task as it was not easy for me to write to be read, if you understand...

Yes, I have other blogs that I rant and rave on, but I'm not trying to engage anybody there, I'm just expressing whatever is on my mind; here though, this needed to be coherent and reaching as I needed to gain feedback to show progress :/

Tough.

Ultimately, I learned that most people respond to personal accounts of situations and things they could read some kind of palatable emotion from; my posts on struggling with being socially inept and the challenges of making and maintaining relationships got the most views and comments.

I've never been one to search out the spotlight- and my fiery (well, more like thermonuclear) temper makes that seem like a bunch of wilted cabbage-so actively asking and writing and reaching out to people...

Not fun.

Being the subject, the direct subject of people's criticism and scrutiny and having to defend myself and my ideas....

Aggravating; I especially hate dealing with those who think that my words are worthless because of my complexion or geographic location (hotspot babies, holla!!) or my educational background, appearance et al

VERY FOXING ANNOYING.

Still...

It was a valued learning curve, in the sense that, I know if I want to attract and keep people interested in my work, I have to write to them in a formally informal way: like I'm talking to a friend of mine after an argument, polite yet weary.

That is true to me alone, perhaps, but some may feel a sort of semblance...sometimes (alliteration *literature nerd* lol)

I thank you for reading
I thank you for responding
I thank you for coming, staying and embracing everything that I have shared;

Directly and indirectly,

And I hope to write to you all again,

Sometime, somewhere.

Among The Living...

Another taxi ride..

This one reminding me of why, it's sometimes okay to be among the living...in short bursts.

The driver, a young (looking) rasta woman, was extremely talkative; she had her associate in the front with her and another one joined us on the journey to Grand Curacaye.

The driver regaled us with a story of well, bacchanal, that she was at the centre of through no (supposed) fault of her own; the details themselves were entertaining, admittedly I was stifling laughter at her outrageous put downs and descriptions of the individuals involved (a couple, of course) but the real interest to me was her inability to stop recounting the incident.

The need to express, the drive, the intensity of it..it seemed to consume her, the insult she indicated at having felt, the audacity of the persons involved, and their idiocy at misreading her.

I usually (well always am, really) reading some pretty...out there things, some so ridiculous I laugh out loud at the crap people publish and make money off of..

That said, the story the rasta lady related if written and fleshed out would not be as successful as if it were embellished and exaggerated;

reality hardly sells without a dose of fiction added.

And fiction sells because no one wants to live vicariously through a normal person, in a normal situation..that's boring! lol smh

Tell me what stories you've heard on maxis or in taxis..?

Adding Insult to Injury: New Tattoos, Old Sentiments...

I love getting tattooed.

I get excited by the smell of the shop, the atmosphere, the illustrations;

It's like a drug: I only get high when I'm there and I can't bare to leave it once I'm done.

.....

Since my first one, my family has tried to dissuade me from getting more, even going so far as to tell me that I'd regret getting them;
When I got my first piercing, same, only the idea that I could take the rings out stopped the ranting and raving quicker.

Little did they know that I wouldn't remove one, if I didn't think it absolutely necessary (like my eyebrow and other lip piercing) especially spending thousands on them -_-

I love getting thins done;
They're mine, for me, my body's way of expressing itself without waking up next to some random guy and/or with a raging hangover...

Yes it hurts.
Yes I'm in discomfort for two weeks to a year (tattoo or piercing respectively).

But it's mine...
I chose it, paid for it, sat (or lay down) through it...

And I love it.

What do you love to do/have done?

Visions of sugar plums...and psychic readings...and assholes

Have you ever had someone look at you and immediately know everything about you, based solely on your complexion and appearance?

No? Yes?

I never knew there were so many psychics in the world!
And to think all this untapped potential is wasted by these Masters Of The Universe (He-Man fans??) on self-proclaimed-but-clearly-not-in-the-minds-of-the-psychics 'small fries' (well, more like a large portion but I digress) like me

Imagine, I am unable to have an intelligent conversation because I live in a 'hot spot'

AND 

I went to a government school  (yes, I have been told this)

How is it that a person can tell you that it's not where you come from but where you're going yet say that they're taking a 'friend' out to somewhere 'nice' because they're 'country' (ghetto in another conversation) as they went to a 'government school'??

Can you really trust that their sentiment does not apply to you also?

I think you'd be a fool not to..
Sigh, just sick of the stereotypes already..and super duper sick to MFing death 

of hypocrites.

I'm tired of being nice to people who wouldn't piss in a cup and give me to douse myself if I was on fire.

PMS and You: How To Deal With Males At Their Special Time (Mini-Rant)

Not everyone can spot the signs of PMS in themselves;

At that delicate time, males usually see everyone else as the problem/irritant...

Let me first list some of their symptoms:

~Intense asshole behaviour, usually sprouting out of innocent conversation

e.g. person: "Hey, how are you?"
       male: "OMG, could you stop annoying me?!"

~Finds a problem with everything and is incapable of having civil conversation

e.g. person: "I just wanted to know how...you're doing...what's wrong?"
       male: "What's wrong is you keep asking me shit, that's what..."

~Absolute inability to be humble, remorseful or apologise
~Becomes the victim of the situation when the situation was instigated by them

e.g. person: "Hey, so what was your day like? Do you want to go out with me?"
       male: "My day was shit, my life is a perpetual abyss of chaos and pain; if you cared about me, you would have known but all you ever think about is yourself..."
       person: "Uhm...when I asked..you wouldn't...sigh, what is bothering you?"
       male: "You really do as some stupid questions sometimes...I'm in a fucking bad mood, fuck off!! I don't know why you're talking to me, leave me alone!!!!"

~Condescending, cynical, sarcastic and terse
~Insulting
~Unable to handle your self defense/retaliative comments
~Etc.



***many variations exist of these scenarios***



I first encountered Male PMS with my past (as in not anymore) male best friend; he would behave so extreme so randomly then snap into a niceness I soon realized was fake...but I digress...

His PMS symptoms were actually mild compared to what I have experienced recently; from taking my questions as accusations to misreading thus misunderstanding my statements and overreacting...to being downright, plain out cold- you know when you tell someone your secrets and they use it against you? 

Prepare to face that shit (and worse) in PMSing males.

Really though, I know...I know females are disgusting but jeez, guys are just as bad...
I can't even venture who's worse because they'll both stab you in the back without fluttering an eyelash then smile at you the next morning...

...like it never even happened..

Do you know a guy who suffers from severe PMS??

You probably do, but never knew what to class it as...

Arm warmers, chains and chokers...

I watched a guy with hand warmers on the other day and wondered why he didn't wait until he got into the ac to wear them :/

It only struck me afterward  that my concern wasn't that he was wearing hand warmers in a country that hasn't seen snow since the world was covered in ice, it was because I felt hot and thought his hands must be warm af in that woolen accessory;

There's a girl I see sometimes who wears black, sometimes weird socks or leg warmers, hand warms too...this time he little skirt had chains- that made me smile.

There was a time I wouldn't go to the supermarket without chains, skull jewelry and some form of rock blasting in my ears (and the surrounding thanks to my shitty headphones lol); I graduated to my spiked collar and goth makeup around form five: I had found my calling!

I enjoyed and still enjoy the comfort of wearing spikes, chains and skulls/dragons, but I haven't done that since my last rock show, ages ago...

Have a 'grown up' and grown out of my goth 'phase'?

I honestly don't know..

Seeing these younglings with their little touches of temperate climate/culture makes me wonder: have I just been playing a role-the role of amped up outsider, goth chick-or was that...is that me?

Or was that me?

Do you have a teenage-into-young-adult part of you, whether it's clothes you used to wear, people you idolized or limed (hungout) with, animals you collected:

Is there something you used to do/believe in religiously that you have either stopped completely, barely make time for or even forgotten about?

I have a couple of leg warmers I'd love to put to use sometime...I just don't know if my reasons are the same as they were ten years ago...

From Then To Now: Physical Pursuits of a Bipolar Fatty...

Nice title right?? :D

So, years ago (about 6-7) I was at my peak in Martial Arts..

....yeah, hard to believe, uh?

I studied traditional Martial Arts (a way of life) as opposed to sport MA (a way of medals and trophies)

And I loved it.

At a point I could have spoken Japanese better than any Anime freak, through people thrice my size and do forms as gracefully as any seasoned dancer can Tango;

That was a long time ago (and many pounds less too :/)

Now it's all (mostly) fond memories of a time and place in my life that I cannot (well, I maybe could) revisit because with age has come so many more complications that the rigours of traditional Martial Arts...is too much...

***Note:

I studied traditional Karate, Jiu-Jitsu, Judo and Okinawan Kobudo at H.S.M.A

So

Last night I took a walk on the wild side...

I joined a MA class.

Not nearly as I had expected (even though I tried not to overestimate) but it was an experience..

Just watching the guy sweep out the dojo brought back fond memories of the half-assed job we sometimes did, the dirty feet and gis as a result and the punishment that followed lol but mostly...

It brought my teacher to mind and I felt like crying my eyes out at the loss (he died 6 years ago) and took my ability to train with him..

Sigh

This new class is like a new start, even though in a totally different field (sport MA as far as I know :/) and I will see it through to whatever end is lined up for it.

Is there something from your past that you gave up on, only to rekindle in an altered form?

If you haven't started, start now, and stop wasting time; I wasted many years silently mourning, now I'm going to mourn out loud (welllll, as loud as I can x_x) with a resounding

KI-AI!!

For my lost teacher, training...and self (ki/chi)

This would not have been the path he chose for or wanted for me, but it is the path that has presented itself; the one I believe will take me to the one meant for me.

Lecturers: Dream Killers In Disguise?

A time a back, I encountered a lecturer...
...like I never have before and do not EVER wish to meet again.

If they were the only person teaching the last course for me to graduate, I'd be in school for a very. Long. Time.

Let me be a tad more specific:

I have to do writing courses for my major and they taught it (alone at that time);
usually apprehensive of 'new lecturers' because you don't know their personality or their marking schemes, I was not impressed (to say the least) with all the bragging this one did as a bid to 'introduce' themself.

As the assignments began, the interaction seemed ok the first few classes, and of courses, the class became divided into loved and tolerated (guess what section I sat in :D);

***Pause

When we did things in class, you got some vague remarks from the lecturer and the other students also... 

When the projects for course grade started, the shit not only hit the fan, it became an entity all its own.

There was supposed to be in class critiques, where everyone read and commented on each other's work; that only happened for the loved side of the class and not even all of them as it would take a while to just read through the work (some of them really needed to pay attention in Comm 117, smh).

Not to mention, every time you asked them how you were doing, they would say 'great, good work' but you never saw any indication of that...

As for the grades and feedback from the lecturer: that did not happen until days after the deadline for grade submission and everyone got below average marks; the explanation was that they were using their former institutions grade scheme (lies) and then all they did was bump everyone up 10-20 points so I went from a C to a B (not impressed)

The feedback was the worst part of it all because they gave no tips for improvement, just bashed your work, dismissed your ideas and you did not actually have the chance to fix it (as they said would be afforded after it was graded, smfh) so you were, well I was left, feeling disillusioned.

I did not want to write anymore.

I felt like I had produced and would only produce shit, because this MFA in creative writing wielding banshee, did not give my work any real and proper feedback.

Sigh

It still grinds my gears up to this time and I am wearily approaching my next writing course;

My classmates and I have all made clear that we will not be taking classes with that lecturer again (and I think after an entire classes complain, someone should listen) so the 'more advanced' class is being done by other people (praise the Lord)

It was an experience I do not wish to repeat (but I did, smh, in another class *rolls eyes* though thankfully not as severe, I missed out on an A, again, by a few points >:<)

And I wonder, so you have any horror stories of lecturers?

This one killed my dreams for a time, honestly; I did not even open my story docs for months afterward and I couldn't do the scripts for my boss, I was in such a state, smh...

But, I decided that, I'm not going to let some post colonial reject dampen my spirit;

I know what I am meant to do: WRITE and I WILL do it and I WILL KICK ASS...

And take a few names ;P lol

Share your school or work or family or friend(s) dream killers with me..