If We All Sing One Song....

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Until the philosophy which hold one race superior and another inferior, is finally, and permanently, discredited and abandoned, then everywhere is war- Robert Nestor Marley

As I was eagerly waiting on a table of four a few nights ago, I couldn't help but over heard a little bit of the conversation at hand.
This was a table with three Caucasians and an Asian woman. The two elder Caucasians, who appeared to be visiting Brooklyn, was in a jolly old mood. I know this, because the older gentleman made a 'joke' as I tried to take away his empty plate, saying that he hated everything. (This is something only parents from the mid west would say, so dare I stereotype). They seemed to be the parent of the caucasian male whom I believed to be in his early 30's. Then there was the Asian female whom I will assume is in her late 20's to early 30's. I wasn't quite sure of the dynamics of the group and frankly I didn't really care. For me, they were just customers To Insure Proper Service for excellent T.I.P.S.,  and to get them on their way in a timely fashion, so I can place another four at said table.
Needless to say, as I was clearing their plates and as they await the main course, I could hear the young male stating to the Asian woman, as in the form of a question, "Teriyaki is just water with soy sauce and sugar, right?",  to which she responded, "Why are you asking me? I'm not Japanese." I couldn't helped but smile as I looked over to the guy who was not phased in any way by that statement, as he continued to 'impress' his parents with the ignorance of knowledge that he knew.

I walked away feeling a little embarrass for the guy and to what extent?

I hear comments like these everyday. Hell, I get comments like these in 2014 more than I should. I live in NYC. Shit,  Brooklyn for that matter,  in an area where artists of like mindedness come together to form a little community of tolerance around an Art University, Pratt. I believe that if there was ever a place that racism would cease to exist, then it should be the place.  Was I led to believe this? (There I dare to stereotype).  This a place, where no matter where you were from, around the world, you can't help but to congregate in the same restaurants, apartment buildings, heck, apartments for that matter (the NYC roommate system), bars, churches, schools, subways, sharing the same utensils and the same lives. A place where any given day you will see couples of different racial backgrounds, hanging out with friends of different cultural backgrounds. A place where people don't refer to you by the color of your skin, but by the content of your character (Dr. King would be proud?). A place where you will see the  most deem African sista' with the most astute Asian man. A community where a white girl from the middle of France will proclaim her love for the black man and him only. Conversations where you can hear an Italian man saying that he hasn't dated or been with an Italian woman in years. Yes! This Place, in a little hill in Brooklyn, close to the water and the Bridges, where the only train that exist, isolates you from the city. It is a haven of individuality, funky cafes, thrift shops, baby strollers, brunch menus in the middle of the week, cozy restaurants and dive bars with no windows. A place where cash only is acceptable with ATMs illuminating from every windows.

SO WHY ARE WE STILL SO RACIST?

I know this may seem like a bold question but it is true and very real on every level. The notions of children living what they learn is in full form and it's the problem we can not seem to shake, even in 2014.


Until the color of a man's skin is of no more significance than the color of his eyes....-Robert Nestor Marley.

There has been a lot of racial uprising in the media of late, and it had me thinking of questions like: How tolerant can one person be to just how tolerant are we?
What is our deciding factor for if push should come to shove?
What is it that we will stand up for?
How many relationships will cease to exist?

I get it. I am just as racist as the next person standing beside me on the train, the next person sitting beside me in the restaurants, heck my boss, who has interracial girls with a literal quarter of their existence coinciding with my existence (Jamaicans), but, will be the first one to tell me one night after we are closing up and everyone being concerned about the up coming christmas season, where crime rates seem to go up, and me being concerned with the fact if I, a female, should brave the fifteen minutes walk to my house at midnight, or fuck it and take a 3min cab ride ($8) to my house, would loudly say to me "What are you afraid of? You are Black and they (meaning only black people rob people) will not bother you".
Needless to say, I was pressured into walking home, because it was cold out and the time I would have to wait for a cab to 'pick ME up,' I could be home and snuggled in the comfort of my warm abode.  Sadly this is also another thing I have grown accustomed to, living in the BIG CITY, THE CAPITAL OF THE WOLRD!



As a black woman, I occasionally get that little fear in my belly when I see a yellow cab approaching. The fear of 'if he is about to pull some bulshit and not pick me up' or worst, if I get in the cab after a long day, on a cold night, is he going to ask me,"You pay cash or credit?" (But there I dare to stereotype) before he drives off in the direction of my house. And he will drop me home and relax after he finds out where I am going, because my 'neighborhood' is considered 'Safe' and 'White'. And I am not making myself out to be a victim of racial profiling, because what good would come of that? I am just stating the fact the a 'Brown cab driver on any given night would rather pass me by, a 'sober female sister ',  in a rain storm or the iciest of snow, to race and pick up a drunken caucasian male, who I know for a fact will somehow throw up in the cab, or better yet my personal favorite, would be so drunk that he will pass out immediately as he gets in the cab prompting the driver to drive aimlessly around in 'White Neighborhoods' looking for an apartment that he knows nothing about, only to end up having to call the cops, where in cases like these, the said drunk guy has no money because he gave it all to the bartender at the many bar he's been to all fucking night.
But hey, there I dare to stereotype!
'Stories like these gives me a little self satisfaction in and of my racism!'

SO WHY ARE WE STILL  SO RACIST?

I believe a large part of this stems from the lack of knowledge and not being exposed to cultural differences. And even though we all move to the big city to live among the colorful. We maintain our little cliques and 'stick to our own' in little groups, while we learn nothing of the differences among us and we don't partake in the little differences that really should unite us as the only race we have anything fully in common with.


The Human Race!

We tend to speak in terms of 'them' and 'they' only to stop ourselves when 'them' or 'they' are apart of the conversation. Giving these foolish notions bigger meanings. We tend to get so caught up in the little petty matters of 'Why we are still single or which dating site is the newest format of getting laid', that we don't make use of the freest of them all, COEXISTING WITH YOUR NEIGHBORS. Saying "Hi!" as we walk down the street and giving a smile to the person next to you on the subway. Instead out of fear, or maybe a form of entitlement, we carry on about our business with our headphones, and our phone mails, and our social media apps, too busy engulfed in that form of society to see the bigger picture and the world around. Always getting mad at the tourist who is simple asking for directions, because they are really not from around here and we are. Blindly watching while the old pervert grinds up against the young miss on her way to work, and the young schoolboy helping himself to the commuters money, who fell asleep after a hard days work.

These are the makings of a racist be! 

We tend to over look these small casualties of everyday life, but won't second a thought to post something on social media that is happening around the world, to garner a few likes or to make it seem like we really care, when in the end the means are not being justified. I am sick of it all and would love it if just for a week the internet would cease to exist and we would have no choice but to love our neighbors as we would ourselves and to do unto him as he would to us! Hell I would take a month if it means that we would all just look at people as people in their rare forms and not just a body or a group.

If love is the basis of it all, and  love is in all of us, then why is it so hard to pass along? Why do we do racial bulshit to people who shit, breathe, eat, pee, bleed, love, laugh, live, die and exist as we do? Why are we so stupid to feel like we are the only people doing these things while 'THEY' and 'THEM' miraculously survive by divine intervention?

WHY ARE WE STILL SO RACIST?

And while I am on this topic, a multicast 'Annie', really?

As a hard-knock life would dub me,
Sleepless!

If It Wasn't For You I'd Be On My Own.

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'Sometimes it's the smallest decisions that can change your life forever'.-Keri Russell

I was thinking of days to come and then it dawned on me, why do we plan for the future when many of us never get to partake in it?

Do you ever feel like you needed a new version of what you are? Who you think you are?

Life is a fickle bitch. The worst thing about it, is that, we have no control over the things we wish the most.

I have been looking in the four corners, and I've come to realized that maybe, either, I am one of the lucky ones, or, I haven't been living quite as much. You know that thing, where when someone asked you 'how you are doing?' and you say 'good', until that one day when someone corrects you and tell you that the word you are looking for is well? Because as people, we can't be "doing good" we can only be "doing well". As silly as this may sound, I am exactly there today and yes, I am living.

Summer went by really fast, and up until today, I hadn't even realized that we had a summer. NYC seems like it was just one big spring, minus the earlier months of winter. So as a ritual, I took the month off 'no drinking', this year, in september and this month came at the right pace. I am having a time of reflection and it makes me realize how much I have grown in 2014.

January,
Started off as just another winter's tale. It was the month for resolutions and what nots. I am not a believer in resolutions, because they never stick, but this year I made a promise to myself to get it right. So first stop was to change the energy of things I was surrounded with. I was no longer going up, I was not coming down. I was in a state of constant sideways. I thought it was just the winter blues and so I cling to the things I thought would suffice this, suffice me. That was a crack pot of shit. It was like nothing was right and no matter how I tried my damnest,  I just couldn't shake that feeling.

February,
Rolled around and the sideways were extending. It was cold. I drowned myself into work and whiskey. Work and whiskey was what I remembered most about February, and the constant loneliness, and no one to share my whiskey with. People got shit going on, and, I only seemed to find them when they needed to unload on me. So yes, February was about work, whiskey, whines and the never failing insomnia. February left me empty like the wine bottles on my floor.

March,
You would think spring would help. but, spring never came, and when it finally did, I decided that turning 35 should be something to celebrate. Who was there to celebrate with? I realized I had no friends. I knew people and lots of them. Always too much of them. I am getting a headache just thinking about all the people I know. Snow was still on the ground and work and whiskey wasn't serving the purpose anymore, so with a turn of event that I didn't see coming, on the night of my "birthday" dinner, I kicked the last thread of humans out of my house and out of my life for good. And then something miraculously happened...

April,
....Spring!!!!!
Who would have known that it was THAT burden off of my shoulders I needed to kick start this wonderful purpose of self realization? And It was April that brought me back and forced me to look in that stupid mirror and see the person staring back at me for what I was. I told myself no more. No more bulshit. No more shit from people who cares only about themselves. No more going above and beyond, unless it had ME written all over it. I found a new voice and it spoke. Who would have thought it could say no and meant every letter?
 N. O. 
But it saved me and I knew for certain that it was time to choose that path and enjoy it.

May,
You wonderful son of a bitch, you. You saw me at my bud. I sprung forth and there you were waiting to accept me. With you came introspect and motivation and inspiration. I wrote something I never had the guts to write, and I finished it, and it was beautiful. I started to be at peace and then happiness took over and the noes got easier, and the yeses where more certain and I have now come into my own. In years gone by, I never really cared too much about May, let's face it, what did May really have to offer?
Exams, getting ready for exams and summer breaks and missing friends and just stupid childish merriments.
But this May was the mold. It was the moment I found a voice that I can be proud of and so I decided to tell June.

June,
You wonderful feeling of sunlight on my skin. I never felt sunlight like this before and the pleasantries were appealing. I began to meet more people and the blessings of June could make me spot a phony from a mile off, but that was not the main course. I was inspired to make a short film. Summer was fast approaching and Brooklyn has never seemed lovelier. And then the promises, and the careless whispers, and the backyard bbqs, and the rooftop gathering(that mostly felt like Autumn), and the late night bar gibberish and late night cab fares that spilled over in...

July,
...Such a busy month. Man was it? I did everything. I was even smack dab in the middle of the desert (Vegas) for a wedding and it was hot as hell, and far, and expensive and a waste of my time, but none the less another reunion of old college friends and the promises of keeping in touch, that will never be and the 'what are you up to now?' and ex that you are happy that you dodge that bullet away from, far far away from, and the big city gal versus the rest of the world that kept their lives going at an even pace, and the 'I can't wait to get back to the big city so I don't have to talk about THAT subject anymore'. And since we are on THAT topic, I don't know why I AM STILL SINGLE, maybe it's a New York City thing, or, maybe I am just suppose to be single at this time in my life. Catch you at the next reunion. I should have a plus one by then (smiles) *applauds*.
I was just so happy to return to normalcy, but not before I decided that this current job situation was not working out for me, so I quit one job on Sunday, had my usual day off on Monday and then started a new job on Tuesday.
Ha!
Did I know things were going to pen out like that?
Nope!
But that's 2014 for you. It has a way of letting me know that the small stuff is no longer sweat worthy, and before you know it's freaking....

August.
Yes the last of the dog days, or, so we were led to believe. I smiled a lot in August. I worked on my script and I perfected it. I saw the screening of the web series and it was a very great night.
It was superb!
One of the second best moments of this year so far. It was just as I imagine. A time with the people who truly cared and moments that were written in time, eons ago. Moments that are reserve for conversations on a porch with grandchildren. August had me making money and saving it and enjoying the last of the long days and late nights, and getting to know new people and loving the sweet taste of wine, and Brooklyn, and dinner parties, and cooking, and laughters, and televisions in the middle of living rooms that was not there before, and being fearless and living for today.

September
Sober September. Four and a half weeks long and I am loving it. I did some yoga the other day and my back is back to normal. September you are my tranquility. You love the smoothest, and the most forgiving. You are my soul mate and my best friend. You keep showing me that all is possible and that the best is only before me. You make me remember why I am me and that I should never forget it. Especially when the conversations start to sound like monkey's poop and cat's vagina. That I should  stick it out and write scripts, that will change the world one day. You give me inspiration on the subway, on my walks to work, talking with customers and you make me laugh everyday.
You make me laugh everyday! 
You are chasing away demons that had haunted me all of 2013 and you make me know, that even when I think I am alone, that I have the inner peace and strength to comfort me. I smell everything and see it all now. I hear the sounds of the distance trains as I walk above ground. I see the shops that were there for years but I was too busy focused on nothing. I take it day by day and will do nothing to change that.
I love!
I love now,
                  openly,
                              forgivingly,
                                                 willingly,
                                                                 romantically,
                                                                                       selflessly,
                                                                                                       selfishly
                                                                                                                     and worry free.
I LOVE!

And with only eight more days to go until I have my first sip of whatever it is that I will sip on first. I will look forward to October and will let the good times roll.


As Fall is about to have its way with me,
Sleepless.

Don't Take It Personal (The Monkey's Poop and Cat's Vagina Syndrome)

I think I just figured out why some people are just so boring most of the time. I have a theory and hear me out for a minute.

It's the Monkey Poop Cat's vagina Syndrome.

Imagine you're meeting somebody for the first time and they decided to talk about a Monkey's poop? At first you would be like, "ok if you want to talk about Monkey's poop then I'm all in". It's all apart of getting to know someone and if it's Monkey's poop, then, so be it.

So the next time you hang out they bring up the topic of a Monkey's poop again, and you obliged,  because maybe the monkey pooped in their mouth and leave a bad taste. So you listen, because, clearly Monkey's poop is important to them.

Now the third time you hang out, Monkey's poop somehow rears its ugly head, and all you can think about is why can't you tell me something about a Cat's vagina?

Maybe it's just me, but I would think that no one wants to hear about Monkey's poop and a Cat's vagina for more than two conversation tops!

This now becomes a boring topic, what if you wanted to talk about a Cat's vagina and because the person is so fixated on Monkey's poop, you can't get a word in about a Cat's vagina.

This is crazy and if you get what I am saying you will know.

I mean if you are telling me about something that I don't give a Rat's ass about it's like talking about Monkey's poop with me, as I would think my boring story would seem like talking about a Cat's vagina. I mean let it go and for the sake of getting to know someone, talk about ice creams and blueberries. Mix it up a little. I'm not saying you can't talk about Monkey's poop and I can't talk about Cats' vaginas, All I am saying is, if your story has become boring it's probably monkey's poop to me.

Just a little spring humor!

As always,
Sleepless

Irie Christmas In The Sun (Jamaican Christmas)

Christmas is my favourite time of year. I can't imagine being more happy. I think It has everything to do with the Christmases I have had growing up.  It so strange how children live what they learn and learn what they live, because, Christmas time I believe help to shape the human mind. I have a theory and hear me out, I am no expert and I have no Phd in this sort of thing but, I believe that you can tell the type of person a human will be if you examine their first few christmases. No I am not saying that this generalization is etched in stone, I am mainly stating that, in more cases than few, you will see the similarities. If you don't believe me just ask this question the next time you are getting to know someone. The answer will tell you the type of person you are dealing with.

Now let me take you on a trip down memory lane.

My earliest memories can be traced back to when I was two years old. I know this because I could remember hanging out with my grandmother a lot and this was before I started Basic school (kindergarten for you Americans reading this).  I however do not remember my first Christmas or am I going to try, but what happens next is my recollection of my first twelve Christmases.

I remembered the days leading up to Christmas like it was yesterday. This all started about two weeks into December. I remembered walking home from school with my sisters, cousins and friends. We would pick the 'crismuss grass' (Para or Guinea grass) as we would call it, and put it in the sleeves of our tunics to see how far this dead grass would crawl on its own.  We would be astonished to know that it could do that when we would find it in our bosoms. This 'crismuss grass' only seems to miraculously appear during Christmas time. This was also right around the time JBC would start to air 'Greetings from the UK'. Who remember dis? This is a program where your relatives that were in England would send Christmas greetings to families back home.

We couldn't wait for the last friday, when the last bell rang so we can buy balloons and whatever little toys we could buy with the money that we saved from our lunch money and we would walk home and talk about what we would be doing for Christmas. Now if you had a big yard like we did in the country, you would know that it was time to cut the grasses, which my mother or grandmother would hire a guy that lived in my neighborhood to do. They cut the grass (lawn) and we the kids (pickney dem) would have to rake them up in heaps for burning. Now this means that Christmas was just around the corner. Next every single house in the neighborhood would be getting a paint job, because it wouldn't be Christmas if you house nuh look criss. Meaning it wouldn't be Christmas, if your house wasn't nicely painted, with new curtains, pepper lights (Christmas lights) Christmas carols on the radio (and in my house most of the Christmas carols were bible based) and the house was spotless. Everything was in top shape for all the relatives that would be home for Christmas. Christmas in Jamaica is a big Family holiday so your house was going to be filled with lots of families, nyammings (eatings) and merriment. Christmas time in Jamaica everybody comes home. 

Now if you are not familiar with sorrel I suggest you take a moment to google it and go out and buy some before you continue reading….

Just joking!

But yes sorrel was one of my greatest nightmare during Christmas time (well the picking of the sorrel I should say). They would have to be picked, dried a little and then boiled before Christmas eve so that it can be ready for Christmas day. Sorrel is one of the best things about Christmas, because when paired with Wray and Nephew white rum and some Red Label Wine. (Red Label Wine, turn on di trills). Oh I can remember hiding and taking some without anyone noticing.  It was the only time you could get a little taste of alcohol without having the skin torn off your back, so of course it was something to look forward to. You can have it without alcohol but what would be the fun in that.

But anyways back to the sorrel picking. It can be described as a red flower like plant that has a lot of pricks or needle like tentacles on the leave itself. Which usually get in your fingers and skin while you take the leaves off. The needle like tentacles we call 'Macka' in Patois. I can tell you so many stories about me trying to pass my pile on to others, but I won't because they always end with me getting a good beating.  My mother always makes the best egg nags for Christmas morning and her secret ingredient was condense milk and Dragon Stout. Delicious so til.

Sorrel Ingredient:

1 pound sorrel

2-4 oz. ginger
2 quarts water
sugar
wine (optional)
8-12 pimento grains

METHOD:
Wash sorrel thoroughly, using the fingers to lift it from the water. Put into stainless steel container.
Scrape and wash ginger. Grate and Add to the sorrel. Add pimento grains. Boil water and pour over sorrel. Allow to stand 4-6 hours. Strain. Sweeten to taste and add rum to taste. Add optional wine. Serve with ice cubes.

Aye bwoy!

Now I don't care who you were or where you lived in Jamiaca, every town or as we would say 'ebbry cribiss and corner' had a Grandmarket. Now Grandmarket was the shit. This is the one time of the year we were allowed to go out and stay out late and shop. The streets were lined with venders and stalks selling everything Christmas. It was our way of enjoying the day before the family day and also to get our Christmas shopping in. There would be festivities for both adults and children.  Now see I was raised in a household where being rude as a kid was never conceived of. We couldn't be out of our beds much less out of the house after 8pm, unless you were with a consenting adult, and when I say consenting I mean your Mother. Plus we were afraid of Duppy (Ghost). But not Christmas Eve. All Duppy aside. It was the time to get to the nearest town and buy toys, dollies, candies, toto, drops, and gizzardas. It was just a day of Jonkanoo, fun and merriment and everybody have on brand new clothes and shoes, because God forbid you leave your house in an outfit that wasn't new. It was like everyone could tell. Maybe it was a silent rule, but that was just how that was. I mean this was the night to finally spend all the money that you were saving, plus all the money that you got from relatives abroad who couldn't make it for this Christmas. 'Farin' money was the best. The streets were packed with vendors selling all kind of Christmas festivities and jerk chicken, pork, roast and boiled corns, roast yam, salt fish, roast breadfruit and things that were left over from the day, because nobody wanted to go home with anything they came to sell. 

(Grand Market dates back to slavery. On this day the slaves would get all dressed up and meet at convenient locations where they could socialize. Others slaves would sell all kinds of homemade items, like strawhats and baskets made from bamboo and brooms made from tash.

They entertained themselves by singing and playing drums which were made from the the skin of animals like goats and cattle, despite what they were going through they still manage to have some fun. As Grand Market evolved from earlier years, the fun remains the same with the kids looking forward to this day as the most important of the Christmas holiday.)

As I can recall all of the major food for Christmas day was prepared on Christmas eve, and as a child I remembered not wanting to go to sleep because I was afraid I would miss something.  The fruit cakes ( this is a traditional cake that is prepared in every household in Jamaica for Christmas. It's made with fresh fruits that are usually soaked in the Jamaican white run for months. You can get a little light headed from the cake. It is that good) Sorrel, ham, roast pork and beef. The only thing that was saved for Christmas day was the chicken and the rice and peas. Oh every single meal known to man was available for Christmas dinner. That is just how we roll in Jamaica. We are not afraid to eat.

                                                           Jamaican Fruit Cake

Now Christmas morning was the best. As we say in Patois 'wi gladbag buss' (being extremely happy). We would be up by 6 am for prayer meetings with every single person in the house.  Have to start the day off right, remembering why we are celebrating Christmas to begin with. Whether you want to or not. Prayer meetings usually last from 30mins to an hour, then presents time. I mean we always know what we were getting because we didn't believe in Santa. Well maybe now-a-days pickney, because everything is becoming so foreign with the easy access to everything. Then we would move on to the Christmas day breakfast. This is usually ackee and salt fish, breadfruit ( usually roast and then fried), fried plantains, boiled bananas, coffee and tea. Then we would all shower after breakfast and get dress in our 'decent' yard clothes because no doubt as soon as about 10 am that's when all the relatives will be arriving for a full day of eating and hanging out and children playing and just pure fun.  Christmas dinners were usually served in late afternoon. This is when we bring out the big guns of food and eat and share stories and hang out and laugh and just have a good time. Then the dessert is always the fruit cake with some red label wine. Yummy!!!! This would go on all day.
                         

                                                              A Typical Jamaican Breakfast

                                                        Ackee and saltfish with calaloo

December 26 would roll around and we would eat leftovers from Christmas day. This is Boxing day and this is usually a beach holiday to hang out with immediate families or friends that you didn't get to see on Christmas day. People would go to the beach and have small picnics and listen to music and chill. If you were old enough you might go to Sting. This is an annual international concert that takes place in Portmore, St Catherine. It usually features all the hottest reggae artist and some of the hottest international stars. This is a big deal in the entertainment industry and it can make or break some of the dominant artists. Sounds clashes are pretty popular here. This is when two rival artists takes the stage to battle it out.

The last Sunday in December is usually known as Christmas Sunday. And let me tell you if you haven't been to church all year, you are sure enough to put on your sunday best and head to church.

So there you have it. I am sure I am leaving out a few things. But one thing I know is that Christmas was always filled with love, gratitude and belly full.

Happy New Year!!!
Sleepless