My Little Gems

Recently, I've noticed that my taste in pleasurable reading has changed. Usually I like to lose myself in a work of human drama. Fiction was the way for me to go. That was until I picked up A New Earth, This I Believe and This I Believe II. A New Earth was an Oprah Book Club selection, but I must have had the channel turned off the month she was featuring the book. Eckhart Tolle asks his ready to take a spiritual journey with him in this book. Now I know that you may be thinking, "Oh no, not another person telling me to let go and let God." Well not to worry, he doesn't do that in this one. He challenges us to let go and just be. Powerful, I know.

This I Believe and its II are short essays by extraordinary everyday people on the various things they believe about life. The essay compels readers to reevaluate how it is that they come to their own beliefs. Both books are provocative and refreshing. They are also a breath of fresh air.

I once heard a saying, that reading is the easiest way to give someone a new perspective. My little gems didn't fail to deliver.

25 More Random Things

On my first day of Spring Break, I find myself sick as a dog. Since I am bed ridden anyway, I've decided to share some random thoughts. These are not in any particular order.


1. Technology scares me. It really does, seriously. Take this Facebook account for instance….I only have it because of a class requirement.

2. I believe that ALL things have a season. Life, friends, jobs, relationships, clothes, etc.…enjoy what you can, learn what you are supposed to learn, and move on when it is done.

3. Even though she died back in 1999, it is still sometimes incomprehensible to me that my cousin Lisa is dead. I hope that she is proud of all me.

4. I am a gypsy at my core. I am at home anywhere on this planet.

5. Teaching was the absolute last thing I thought I would be doing for a career. I only began teaching while waiting for the Foreign Service to place me.

6. Monday, January 6, 2006 and running have saved my life. Literally.

7. I don’t believe in Political Correctness. I think it has abused Truth. However, I still hold out hope that Truth will prevail.

8. The first book I ever read from cover to cover was Gone With the Wind. I read the sequel Scarlet…what a let down.

9. I do own an IPOD (someone had to set it up for me though) and I have everyone from Conway Twitty to TPain loaded in it.

10. I have friends that have interesting careers. I know an ice trucker, a CEO of a bank, fitness trainers, foreign service workers, writers, archivists, reporters, pilots, a taste tester, exotic dancers, bartenders, fashion designers, professional athletes, private investigators, personal assistants to famous/wealthy people, numerous chefs, Peace Corps workers, actor, recording artists, ministers, a jeweler, a hand and foot model (not the same people, btw), a few regular models. I could go on, but I’ve made my point.

11. Closed Mind People (People that “Don’t like this/that/him/her/them/it” for no other reason other than mere existence), really, really tick me off.

12. I believe that people have the time to do what they desire to do. Period.

13. I am a principled person.

14. I despise winter, but understand its necessity in the cycle of things.

15. I am jealous of artistic people in general. I wish that I could express myself in the ways that they do.

16. I once spent an entire paycheck on a purse and a pair of shoes.

17. I get a kick out of seeing my students having an “Aha! Moment”. It never ever gets old.

18. The concept of rewarding people for doing things that they are supposed to do is the saddest practice I have ever seen.

19. I am most at peace when I am near water. I sometimes turn on the faucet and watch the water run. Lately, since I have been trying to be less wasteful of the world’s resources, I have started the practice of filling a large bucket with water and then using it to clean things. Yeah, you got it…the dipping my hands in water thingy.

20. I am an English teacher that happens to be the worst speller known to man.

21. I cried when I left Brazil at the end of last summer. I really, really considered not boarding my flight back to the US.

22. If one got a passport stamped for travel within the US, my passport would be stamped the most for Las Vegas, Nevada. Yeah, I don’t get this one either. I’ve been to Las Vegas so many times now that visits have begun to blend together.

23. Sometimes people don’t get what they deserve.

24. It is in part of because of charity that I am where I am today. I am charitable one, to remind myself of it and two, to hopefully bless someone else.

25. My mom and my aunt are my heroes.

3 Places to See Before You Die

Everyone who knows me and has been paying attention knows that I LOVE to travel. God's earth is so big and so beautiful. I think I was put here to see as much of it as I can.

It is a shame that I haven't quite figured out how to see the planet and eat at the same time, so I do the best that I can. The best I can do for 2009 is to enjoy the Christmas present I bought for myself. I bought a 1000 Places to See Before You Die Desk Calendar. I get to see a wonderful and different local each day. How cool is that?

As of the writing of this blog, I've got to see the following places:

January 1 - The Cliffs, Negril, Jamaica
January 2 - Mesa Verde, Colorado, USA
January 3 - The Louvre, Paris, France

I can scratch January, 1 & 3 off of my list. One more thing that I can report is that the pictures on the calendar don't do each place any justice, at all. Don't get me wrong, the pictures are awesome, but trust me, you have to see each place for yourself...sometime in your lifetime.

This is a picture from my last visit to Cliff's Bar & Grill in Negril. I was last there in 2007.

Always Strive to Be Like the Moon

Is a line from Ishmael Beah's A Long Way Gone. Upon asking his grandmother why an old man in the village often repeated this saying, Beah learned that people often complain that the sun is too hot. Conversely no one complains about the moon, even though there are times that the clouds try to cover it.

I am grateful that I remembered this saying today, while I was sitting in the doctors office. Our life isn't as bad as we think it is. Someone always has it worse.

There is a Strange Beauty in a Rainstorm

I was asked today if I had a muse. Honestly, at first I was like, "I dunno", even though the title of this blog says otherwise. But then I read the following line on one of my students' papers: "There is a strange beauty in a rainstorm." I got to thinking:
1. sunrise
2. the women in my family
3. the cycle of life
4. that song "All Things Come to an End" by Nelly Furtado
5. my lover's ears
6. knowing that my strength is greater than even I can imagine
7. my butterfly bush when it is full bloom.
8. the blue birds that I see in my back yard
9. sleeping in spoon position in my lover's arms
10. a good book (which happens to be Half the Yellow Sun right now)
11. 2 pm rain showers in San San (Portland) Jamaica
12. the view of the clouds (from a window seat) at 36,000

So yes, I do have my muses. What are yours?

They Poured Fire on Us From the Sky

Is a must read! Talk about the resiliency of the human spirit. This book is about 3 Dinka boys from Sudan, who at the age of 7 lost their home (and their way of life) to the ravages of war. These 3 boys tell their heartbreaking story of traveling over a 1000 miles, and doing so throughout the most unbearable hunger, thirst, and disease.

What amazes me the most about these boys is that no matter what they faced, no matter how insurmountable the obstacle seemed...they were always grateful. They always remained kind. They kept their humanity.

It is amazing that Benson, Benjamin, and Alephon lived through their experiences in Sudan. I am just grateful that they did. It is because of them that I now know the stories of all the others that they mentioned in the book. The lost boys that never made it.

April Fool

But this isn't a joke. Today, a group of my co-workers sent out a group email and wanted to know if anyone may be interested in doing some charity work, while getting in shape. I answered and made the decision to run the Marine Corps Marathon in October 2008. Yikes! I purchased the book Run Less, Run Faster. I have an appointment with a running specialist to get the appropriate running shoes. Now you may ask (all 2 of you that read this blog), why in the hell are you running a marathon? Are you usually this impulsive? Can you even run? My answers are:

1. Why not? Life is so short.
2. No, I am not usually spur of the moment. But, it's never to late to mix it up sometimes...right?
3. I cant run around the block, but that is OK (isn't it?).
4. I'll be raising money for charity.
5. I'll finally really do something about getting my butt (and a rather large one at that) in shape.

Training begins Monday, April 14th.

The Pirate's Daughter

When I try to explain my Jamaican heritage to people, I do so knowing that they can not fully understand why I love Jamaica as much as I do. I get comments like, "Oh, you're from Jamaica! I love Bob Marley! Yes, Mon." <----- (I really, really detest that one) or "Jamaica, I've been there, what a lovely country. Too bad we had to get back to our cruise." or "Oh, Jamaica, what was the name of that lovely hotel that we stayed at when we were there?" What makes me the most sad are the eyes that I get from so many people. The eyes that say, "You're from Jamaica? I'm sorry that you are from such a lovely, but poor and desolate place." All I can do is smile and secretly sigh on the inside because I know that people mean well when they pay "compliments" to the country that is at the very heart of my existence. It is the land of my mother and father. Jamaican (a fellow yaadie) Margaret Cezair-Thompson does a phenomenal job putting into words what is at the core of my love for Jamaica. She does a fine job of explaining the intricate details of the history that gives Jamaica the national phrase "Out of Many - One People". Set in the glamorous era of 1940's Jamaica, The Pirate's Daughter is the tale of two generations of women (a mother and daughter) and their struggle to find a place for themselves; not only in society but within themselves. Thompson does what no other author has been able to do when it comes to the land that I love. She is able to tell her tale and do so in a culturally sensitive way. She does so without the usual stereotypes about Jamaica that I have become use to hearing (but will admit still stings my ears and grates my nerves).

Her characters are multi-dimensional (as all humans are), so that part of her novel is ordinary. Multi-dimensional characters are what I have come to expect from writers. Her descriptions of our culture, her brilliant descriptions of the landscapes and the tropical climate, her accurate summaries of my frustrations and disappointments with the government is what is extraordinary. It makes her story compelling and irresistible. The character May captured my feelings best when she had the epiphany, "that it wasn't really the people or government of Jamaica that she loved [in particular]...it was the land itself." (Wow!!)

As they would say in Jamaica, "Mi haffi big up Margaret Cezair-Thompson, enoh?" Much respect. I look forward to reading more.

A Long Way Gone

I usually don't read memoirs. Something about reading the intimate details of another persons life always seems so voyeuristic to me. This memoir of a boy soldier was too compelling to overlook. I was standing in line at a Starbucks (go figure) and saw this memoir. After reading the excerpt entitled: New York City, 1998, I knew that my trip for a Venti 180 Skinny Latte was going to cost me $25.00.

The first third of the book is very graphic. So much so that I had to put it down a few times. I guess being given a gun and told to fight in a war would be graphic. I can barely wrap my brain around what the experience might be like for the men and women who do it for our country. The men and women that do it for our country are grown (or grown according the law). Ishmael Beah was 10 when he was given an AK-47 and told to fight for his country. It sickened me that adults in his life saw his need for food, safety and shelter as a means to carry out their wicked agendas. I asked so many times while reading his words, what I do not believe Beah had the time to ask during his experience. I asked: why? I asked: what was it all for? I believe the answers would have destroyed him at the time.

In a way, I understand Ishmael Beah's need to tell his story. It is a story that must be told. Him telling his story is the only way he would begin to live. Not just survive, but live. Beah's story is the only means for him to get justice for his family, justice for the other child soldiers that never made it out, justice for himself.

I will never understand how a human being can rob a child of their innocence and live with themselves. Doing so is the greatest evil.

Readers Are Writers and Writers are Readers

I hear that all them time. I say it to my students when I want to sound sophisticated and deep. But you know what? It is true. I just finished the most amazing first novel by writer Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie called Purple Hibiscus. The story is told by 14 year old Kimbali who is raised in a strict and abusive Catholic home by her tyrannical father. Kimbali lives in Nigeria and struggles to live a life where the old ways of life have been disregarded for the new order . She struggles with the religious and the pagan. It isn't until she goes for a visit to her aunty's house that she realizes that there is another way to live.

Kimbali struggles to find a the balance between the old and the new. She struggles to find the balance between the love she has for her father and the hatred and confusion she feels for the life of physical and emotional abuse she suffers at his hands.

I guess I found Kimbali's story so engrossing because so much of her story is my story. Yeah, I know she is Nigerian and I'm Jamerican, but you know what I mean. I too can identify with growing up "stuck" between two worlds. I can identify with being confused by the contradictions of the "pentecostal holy rollers" life and the life I had at home once the preacher said amen. I know what it is like growing up being told that everthing good I did was because I was a "Jamaican child growing up in America" and at the same time being spanked for all the bad things because I forgot that I was a "Jamaican child growing up in America". In so many ways my mom and dad were Kimbali's father.

It was refreshing to read the novel because ALL of the characters have skin like mine. They use words that I too use in my daily life. I know the foods that they eat (man I could eat some Jalaf Rice right now). It is nice to read a story about people like me: characters that are educated and smart. Characters that make points that are poignant. It is nice to see characters with my skin color struggle with the same issues that I do. It is nice to see characters that speak with eloquence and grace. It is refreshing that Adechie found it OK to tell her people's (and in a way, my people's) story. I hope that someone will be proud of me like I am proud of her when I tell my story.

I'm going to Google her. I hope she has written something else.