Natural or Naturally Crazy ??

That's Me!

"Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it!" Those were the words of my work colleagues telling me to just do that "Chop it all off!"

I watched them first in horror. They could not be serious.

"Ohh you'd look so good" they urged.

I continued to stare at them blankly thinking "You aught to be crazy. You're not gonna be combing this hair when its a frizzly mess."

That was the actually the middle of the story.. Maybe I should have started at the beginning?

It all began about three years ago when Ii was in the middle of university and my mind tried to think of everything else aside from school work. I mean seriously when you have piles of papers in front of you, the last think you want to think about was school or work or studying.

I occupied myself first of all with dying my hair with kite paper. I didn't want anything permanent and I heard that a person could actually do that, and I wandered. Why not?

I remembered cutting my hair in my first semester, that was before I dyed my hair green and red and blue. It looked purple though or just plain strange. Whatever, I'm just glad that my hair was dark so the only time anyone saw the colours was when my hair was in the light.

But it was fun. I remembered trying to braid my hair. I did number of things with my hair but it always just came back down to that, my hair.

Somehow during those three years in University, for the first time I really wanted to change something about myself. Acquire my own identity be just me. Instead of somebody else. I tried the three quarter jeans, big jerseys and sneakers. I think I ended up looking like a dyke in my first and second years, (my hair was actually shorter then) That and I remember walking around with a duffle bag to carry my books instead of a normal school bag in my first year. I quickly returned to the ole schoolbag.

In second year I decided to grow my hair out natural. I mean people look nice with natural hair I believed or I thought, or I wanted to believe. Whatever the case, natural hair was the way for semester two. After a brief period of transitioning between natural and relaxed I said "Screw this, let's go back to the wonderful relaxer"

For me relaxing was safe. It was something I was introduced to, at a very young age. That and most people, especially those of African descent or mixed had their hair relaxed. It was easy and no back breaker. But somehow the relaxer did not give me that sense of gratification. I felt like once again I was loosing myself slowly sinking into the crowd.

Then in year three a few students began talking about going natural. My ears perked, something lit in me, yes I felt more prepared now. Surely I could do this. I could go natural I could find me. This time I researched and researched and I started my transition period once again.  It lasted but for a while.

Studies were getting to me. Thesis and assignment dates were due and I had no time to hassle over my hair, over my attempt to distract myself from work, over trying to find my own identity.  My goal was to get out of university as soon as possible. Hair issues were not going to make me stay in that institution for another year.

Once again I was in that puddle. Around that time after my final exams and even after graduation i felt stagnant I felt empty. My creative self was no more. My crazy side of dying my hair with kite paper and shouting "I'm feeling fruity!" when I wanted to divulge in a good plum seemed far away.

I found myself wishing that I could be like this person and I could be like that person grew stronger with each passing day. I was basically losing myself. Where was I going? I didn't know but I knew that I had to get myself back quickly..

Fast forward to the rat race, better known as work.

The chants of "Do it, Do it!", urges from people at my job, daring me to do something not many women venture to do. Chopping of one's hair takes great courage. Especially when the world tells you that a woman's beauty comes from their hair.

To be honest I still had intentions of going back natural but to be honest transitioning is such a pain in the bum.
It took my months after they all simmered down, and stopped bothering me about chopping off my hair. But their dares remained in my mind. Some part of me was also daring me to take this step. Take this step to what?

I did not know. So I made my own inquiries and decided one day. Hell why not. Just do It. You only live once, If people think that I look ugly that's their business not mine.

The trip to the hairdresser was a long one. My mind was telling me to do it but actually doing it was something else.

The New Me!

Eventually I did it! I chopped it off! Somehow I felt liberated. Liberated in the sense that I was once again stepping on that stone of self identity. I was reclaiming something that I was loosing and in the same breath searching for and my hair is basically that much easier to wash,

I've gotten mixed reviews, as would be expected but the important thing is that crazy, part of me was coming back. That part of me that wished for something different that wished to be different that wished to be me was  and is slowly coming back. I mean it's not all here, I'm referring also about the hair, but something is here. Something is back and in this New Year the search will continue.

Not only will I grow back out my frizzy locks, I'll also find and formulate my own identity. I had to loose something to grasp something even more important.

The good thing is hair always grow back but if you don't pursue it somethings will end up being lost forever.    

 

Like a Virgin

Today I write to you not only as a woman but more importantly as a virgin.

I am a 25 year old virgin in this modern day and age. Where sex has been advertised to me since before I could even grasp the concept of that three letter word.. S-E-X.

That is via television, radio, calypso, or what have you. Its a word that continues to mystify and arouse people's interest at the same time. In more ways than one. 

My blog today is just about surviving as a virgin in this day and age. Or simply just being one.  

To say that I'm a virgin seems almost taboo. 

More taboo than saying that,

Shhhhhh... 

Three letter word.

I mean its almost embarrassing really. 

More embarrassing than talking about, 

Shhhhhhh.....

Twenty years and what nothing ?

WOW something must be wrong with me I guess. 

I mean my social life must be lame. I work either too hard, 

Or 

WAIT

I must be one of those religious fanatics, you know those Catholics who talk about "No Sex before Marriage"  

and then multiply like rabbits soon afterwards?

Yeah One of those..

Actually......

NO.

I don't fully believe in no sex before marriage. 

Yes I'm Catholic.

And maybe I do work a bit too much. 

But the bottom line is 

IT'S MY CHOICE!!!!!!

Just like how people choose to have sex 

I choose not to have sex. 

And why..... I must be dreadfully ugly right?

Ummm... no.....

"Sex." The topic of "Sex" and the word "Sex" today is just so commercialized.

Things are sold and advertised just with the topic "Sex" in mind. After all it sells. 

There's the tagline "If you want it, just do it!"

For me, maybe because I'm influenced by my Catholic beliefs or teachings and then I reflect on the topic sometimes, I see it as something sacred. 

Something sacred that takes place between a man and a woman, a man and a man or woman and woman,  or whatever's your fancy (preferably human) rather than a stick it in and pull it out sort of thing. I see it as a private affair between two people who deeply care and trust each other on a higher level. 

This is my body. This is your body. This level of intimacy should be fulfilled between people who are mature and secure enough to carry on a relationship and are able to deal with the consequences, i.e. pregnancies etc, if anything should happen. Hence the reason why the Catholic Church preaches marriage. 

Sex is something that is unifying, no matter your Kama Sutra position. Its a unification of two people into something whole or one. In other words you are becoming one with your partner, you are becoming apart of them.

That's my personal view on sex and the reason why I have not ventured into that realm.

As I mentioned earlier. I respect people's opinions and decisions. However, what I dislike  is when people chastise me for who I am. 

So what if I'm a virgin?

Does that justify your mocking me, who I am and my decisions?

If so should does my calling you a slut, whore or what other derogatory name should be justified because of your actions, especially if you are not married or not in a committed relationship?

I don't think so. 

Maybe there are people out there who are in similar positions like me. 

Maybe there were people in similar positions like me who were pressured into this fulfilling act and came out with nothing, except hurt and huge disappointment, lowered self esteem and maybe even pregnant etc because they did not understand the entire concept. 

Then there are those who had a romp of a time. 

I believe that sex is a wonderful experience and its climax is often referred to as "la petite mort" a French metaphor for orgasm. Maybe I can further add its similar to the the action of a phoenix that dies within oneself only to relive again as somebody new. 

But how this act of intimacy is often described and the misconception often advertised or assumed is that one should get as much as possibly could as if its out of style. The pressure is immense. 

Some might assume that my thoughts are childish because of my inexperience but I believe that what people need to understand and respect is that its an individual's choice to give him or herself to another person.

When a person chooses to give of him or herself, it is THEIR CHOICE not yours.

Defensive Driving

Honestly I never wanted to drive. I like to be driven. I've always delayed getting my driver's permit simply because as I said earlier I like to be driven. I mean as the passenger I get to stare out of the window, enjoy the moving scenery before me and even sleep in peace when I want. That and I am afraid of myself behind a wheel. I mean seriously think of the consequences LOL. Me behind a wheel? You have to be crazy! But I guess that it was all inevitable. I had to get my driver's permit there were no two ways about it. That and my friend dragged me along to get it.


Thankfully I passed the test in one shot and I've never really driven anything since then. I mean as far as I was concerned the mission was completed. I got the plastic nuff said nuff done. But I knew deep down that I have to pursue it I mean learning how to drive and driving yourself from point A to B is essential in this day in age.  Sadly put me behind a wheel now and I'm like a kid learning how to ride a bicycle. Yes I am ashamed but its the truth.

In any case as I re started my mission, my parents encouraged me to attend a defensive driving course, simply because it would teach me how to become a better driver and bottom line the insurance would be much cheaper. So I was all oh heck why not. I just had to find the time, which I eventually did, after much procrastination of course.

The class was a one-day class. Much to my relief it was scheduled to start at 8 am in the morn to 4 pm in the afternoon, a whole day event. Now allow me to translate that to Trini time. The class started at 8:45 am and finished at 3:45 pm. Yes start late finish early. The class was rather large, nice group of people, nice mix and the instructor was approachable and answered all questions, even silly ones.

The course manual though was American. It wasn't too bad though I have to give props to the Americans their manuals are so pretty and colourful. The most you'd get in a Trini manual is white paper and black ink. Maybe there'll also be the possibility of a photocopied picture that's terribly pixilated. Good stuff but back to the course.

It was very informative. In a sense I am glad that I decided to pursue this course before I started driving and before I developed bad habits. It was a lot to take in and a lot to purge out. Thus I highly recommend everyone to take in the course. However, be warned there were graphic videos and images and highly informative advertisements. All of which were used to get the point across. I believe now that I am scarred for life and unfortunately I retreated back into my shell.


I walked out of that session scared stupid. I was now a licensed driver afraid to drive.

As I walked down Edward Street and suspiciously peered at every parked car and every car that drove past me. I could not help but think how much it would be a dumb way to die. I don't want to be splattered on a road because of some bad decision on my part or worse yet someone else’s. Then I thought of how many thousands of people die each year in accidents. I thought of the people I knew or heard about who died in car accidents and how gruesome and frightening those last minutes was for them.

Accidents caused by inconsideration. Accidents cause because of carelessness. Accidents caused by meaningless distractions. Accidents caused by bad decisions.

After that evening I've developed a new found respect for the road, drivers and even the cars. I learnt about how much responsibility the driver has. The plastic I worked for months ago is more than just that. Sure it is an identification card, sure it is my pass to use a vehicle on the road, but it is power in the form of plastic. Power that I must harness, develop and properly use the moment I find myself behind the wheel of a vehicle.

I've decided that maybe driving is not such a bad thing. Maybe it’s something that I should take deeper consideration into and take seriously. Least I’ve decided that my mission will not remain incomplete. I will find myself on the road soon enough a more matured and a more responsible driver.

Why Am I Blogging?

In the depths of my drained brain, riddled with headaches from thinking just a little too much I have come to ask myself,

"Why am I blogging, just why am I doing this?"

Nothing seem to be appearing on paper before me. Yes at times I prefer to script my thoughts on paper before I type them on the computer. It's comforting and what I write feels more personal.

I have been reading news stories from the local newspapers and from the BBC website. I've also been indulging myself in editorials, reading my friends' blogs and even partaking in various conversational topics with my colleagues and sometimes even conveniently 'overhearing' their gossip.  Still nothing seem to come to mind. 

My brain is drained. All my efforts and thoughts have been focused on my work. I'm more concerned about exactly what I have to do and how to complete the task that needs to be done. Therefore by the time I've reached home I'm burnt out.  The most I want to do is read comics, chat on forums and sleep. Maybe even see what Japanese animation series have been updated. 

That is it, my current life, boring and dry. My mind seem to be stuck in a pool of stagnant water. It is going no where fast. Just lying there absorbing the stinking water. Least that is where the level of my creativity is concerned.  I have had this feeling before and I've written a poem that expresses exactly how I feel.  Here is how it goes:

Stagnant
Like old water in a hole
Murky brown
In a bowl,
Forgotten
Not moving.

Seas splash churn
Streams merge into one
Water - falls
Progress
Life

Yet I remain
In my own world
In my own hole
Regress
Breeding death
Forgotten
Not moving.

Currently all of my art supplies are collecting dust and my camera is still slumbering in its bag. I know I need to get up and move now. NOW! NOW! NOW!

As I read my friends blogs I wonder exactly where are the sources of their inspiration. Honestly I need to know. Sure some of it comes from the world around them, maybe even their immediate environment  but somehow I am unable to pluck a shard of inspiration from the mirrors of events that surround me and scratch the surface of my blog page. 

My creative mind is bleeding and scarred from the abuse of being chained and tossed into the darkest crevices my brain. I need to let it loose. I need to let my creativity fly and be released from the bonds that restrict it. 

But my question still remains:

Why am I blogging?

What exactly am I doing if all I seem to be doing is complaining about my pitiful circumstances?

I began this blog to reach out to... somebody.  Somebody I do not know but somebody who would appreciate what I have scripted.

I started this blog, hopefully to inspire, to positively influence or just relate to my readers. I am not expecting to reap any rewards, just maybe some self gratification that I am doing something positive for somebody else. I also started this blog to get back into the habit of writing. Not just writing for writings sake but for the pure enjoyment and pleasure of it.

When I was a child I wrote numerous short stories and incomplete novels but I allowed my creative mind to soar so much then. I was unable to contain it but now I have imprisoned it. Gradually doing so link by link while I began to focus on texts and events to analyze and criticize and work on essays that need no creativity, except to be like a spider and carefully craft my web of words. 

I now know why I am blogging. Save for the reasons I have listed above it is also to reclaim my sanity and express my creativity. Once again I want to pen ink to paper and translate that into electronic print.

I blog not only to inspire others but to inspire me. I want to fully understand myself and not allow the world to snatch me away from me and tighten the chains that binds and stagnates me. 

My Thoughts

So I'm supposed to be blogging but nothing comes to mind.
So occupied by many things my thoughts I cannot find......

I'm not on haitus

I will not stop my blogging

I intend to continue this endeavor

And delete this silly posting when I write something better