I cannot avoid writing about Buju Banton, one of Jamaica's reggae stars who was found guilty of drugs and gun charges in Florida on February 22, 2011. For almost two years, Jamaica waited for this trial to end, especially following the first mistrial. Many were hopeful that he would be found not guilty, but it was not so. When the news came, you could almost hear the audible gasp of Jamaicans as they receive the news with much sorrow. It's not that Buju is perfect but I think the feeling is for the loss of a music that was quite good, excellent in instances. Like Michael Jackson, we will forever wonder how one so talented could have found himself in this predicament and it is for this that we mourn. It is also a step back for reggae music and for the reputation of Jamaican rastas as well as Jamaicans. But I also hope it's a wake up call for all those 'DJs' and singers who feel that they must tout badness to sell songs. It doesn't work. All they need to do is write and produce good music that will bring riches for years to come. I don't even want them to write inspirational music, because that too I think is a cop out, they need to write good music - lyrically stimulating, intellectually compiled and perfectly scored. That's all one can ask.
Good luck Buju!
Daily thoughts and stories I write.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Colours are alive in Kingston, Jamaica
The flowers are all a bloom in Kingston, and I'm sure all across Jamaica. In the residential areas of the city there are many yellow Pouie trees that are now blooming. The dark woody branches shed all their leaves and send out these beautiful bright yellow buds that open and spread with magnificence. Then they fall and blanket the ground in glory. It is said that the blooming of the Pouie tree indicates that rain is coming. I don't know about that but what I do know is that these trees certainly illuminate the city. But like a rose, the blooms do wilt and rot and eventually become a dark colour that's quite unattractive.
I have two Pouie trees in my yard but they're not really blooming yet. When they do, they are great and people usually slow to look at them. Pouie trees also come in white and pink but these colours are not as 'eye-catching' as the yellow. I like the white but only if the trees are very large.
Sometimes you look up at the hills and see the trees blooming. That also is a pretty sight especially from a distance.
Bloom on Pouie tree, bloom on!
Monday, February 21, 2011
Romance stories
I now admit that I can't write a romance story to save my life. Usually, the people in my story die and some in a not-so-nice way. Even when there's romance, there appears to be a lot of sadness as opposed to the happy or contented ending romance stories require.
I've been doing a lot of research lately into romances, especially for formula type and I think my stories are lacking...very lacking. So I'm reading and trying to understand what drives these authors and how they manage to write so happy, happy.
Maybe I should give up and write suspense, at least people are expected to die in them.
I've been doing a lot of research lately into romances, especially for formula type and I think my stories are lacking...very lacking. So I'm reading and trying to understand what drives these authors and how they manage to write so happy, happy.
Maybe I should give up and write suspense, at least people are expected to die in them.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Chilaxing on a Sunday
Ah, Sunday. The best and the worst day of the week. The top half of Sunday is heaven while the bottom half is hectic and synonymous of Monday -- uugh, the worst day of the week.
I like my Sunday mornings. I'm the first up which I enjoy because it's usually peaceful except when the neighbours' gardener comes to mow the lawn. But I get up between 6:30 and 7:00 a.m. and I make breakfast and sit down to a very quiet meal, much like J.Lo in The Wedding Planner. After breakfast, I get to spend a good two or three hours at the computer before anyone else is even remotely awake and that's the good part. Then I go watch CBS Sunday Morning, depending on what they're bringing. If it's interesting, I watch, if not, I go back to the computer or to reading the newspaper. Yes, that's the life.
Sunday afternoon now is a different matter because that's when time rushes on and it seems I'll never get everything ready for work Monday and I never do. My sister would come for me to do her hair. I ponder doing my nails (usually I don't) and ironing (ha! haven't done that in a while) or finishing up some piece of work I brought home (sometimes I do). If it's my day to cook, I'm so exhausted that I don't do anything else but watch TV or lie on the bed and wish my legs to stop hurting. That aside, I would give up no other day for Sunday.
I like my Sunday mornings. I'm the first up which I enjoy because it's usually peaceful except when the neighbours' gardener comes to mow the lawn. But I get up between 6:30 and 7:00 a.m. and I make breakfast and sit down to a very quiet meal, much like J.Lo in The Wedding Planner. After breakfast, I get to spend a good two or three hours at the computer before anyone else is even remotely awake and that's the good part. Then I go watch CBS Sunday Morning, depending on what they're bringing. If it's interesting, I watch, if not, I go back to the computer or to reading the newspaper. Yes, that's the life.
Sunday afternoon now is a different matter because that's when time rushes on and it seems I'll never get everything ready for work Monday and I never do. My sister would come for me to do her hair. I ponder doing my nails (usually I don't) and ironing (ha! haven't done that in a while) or finishing up some piece of work I brought home (sometimes I do). If it's my day to cook, I'm so exhausted that I don't do anything else but watch TV or lie on the bed and wish my legs to stop hurting. That aside, I would give up no other day for Sunday.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Back at work
After 2 weeks of vacation, I went back to work Thursday. Bad idea. I should have taken the additional 2 days. My mind was all over the place and there was a lot waiting. There's no one to do anything while I'm off and because of this, things just sit around for my arrival. It can be daunting and it means spending a lot of time catching up. I have no clue what I'm doing from moment to moment. But I've gotten some things done and they were important things - all was not lost.
I'll probably be in the same frame of mind on Monday but able to produce work. I'm like a drunk who is always intoxicated and learns to work while heavily influenced. You know the type. Sober him up and he don't know left from right, but pour a few shots down his throat and he's a genius. Yep, that's me - working on sub-pilot.
Changes are coming, I can feel it. I don't know if I'm ready for that but sometimes you just have to do what you have to do regardless. Despite the bleak, troublesome future, I am willing to deal with what may. I might not enjoy or welcome it, but I'll deal with it. What choice do I have?
This weekend I hope to write and fix up story beginnings to enter some RWA competitions. Maybe something will come of that. I'm hopeful because I'm excited about some of the stories I have to work on. So hopeful in fact, that I can't pour the words on the page fast enough and get frustrated and stop. But then I force myself to go back. Also have to be careful of the temptation to work on more than one stories and none get finished. That can be a trap within itself. Not that I can't jot down some words if something comes to me, but I must avoid working on a distraction for days before it occurs to me, that's not the story I should be doing.
The last time I wrote, I said I was going to take the bull by the horn and look at publishing my own stories. Well, I've started planning to do just that. It's early days, but so far so good. I'm not scared to death yet and am taking it one day at a time.
I had a weird dream last night. I was driving my daughter somewhere and ended up downtown -- which in Jamaica is not always a good place to be. First we were driving and then we were walking with a whole lot of bags, as if the car broke down, but I can't be sure. I stop to buy something and am trying to maneuver the bags between us when a man offers to help. I tell him no, but somehow between switching bags, he ended up with a blouse I was carrying. He walks with us up and over this bridge and the next thing I know, he is ahead of us and moving too fast. I shout out to him and he begins running. I try to give chase but I have a bum knee -- I really do -- and can't move fast enough. My daughter is not moving very fast either although I'm thinking she's younger than me and should be able to run. So we start screaming 'thief! thief!'. People hear and 2 young men give chase. The man throws the blouse in the park and runs in a different direction. Then he's not a man, but a woman. She falls in the road. A girl comes from nowhere and drags her up and they run off and escape. We go back to retrieve the blouse but find we are behind this low wall. I'm panicked because I want to get back to the place he threw the blouse and retrieve it. For some reason, I thought it important though I made the blouse. I'm telling my daughter to jump down but she's afraid of the height and I begin to get annoyed. Just as we're about to jump down, I wake with a massive headache. I wish if someone could tell me what this means.
I should add that the bridge we walk up and over, has been recurring in my dreams for years. It's always the same bridge, in the same area but usually coming from somewhere different and leading to different things. Weird, huh?
Till later....
I'll probably be in the same frame of mind on Monday but able to produce work. I'm like a drunk who is always intoxicated and learns to work while heavily influenced. You know the type. Sober him up and he don't know left from right, but pour a few shots down his throat and he's a genius. Yep, that's me - working on sub-pilot.
Changes are coming, I can feel it. I don't know if I'm ready for that but sometimes you just have to do what you have to do regardless. Despite the bleak, troublesome future, I am willing to deal with what may. I might not enjoy or welcome it, but I'll deal with it. What choice do I have?
This weekend I hope to write and fix up story beginnings to enter some RWA competitions. Maybe something will come of that. I'm hopeful because I'm excited about some of the stories I have to work on. So hopeful in fact, that I can't pour the words on the page fast enough and get frustrated and stop. But then I force myself to go back. Also have to be careful of the temptation to work on more than one stories and none get finished. That can be a trap within itself. Not that I can't jot down some words if something comes to me, but I must avoid working on a distraction for days before it occurs to me, that's not the story I should be doing.
The last time I wrote, I said I was going to take the bull by the horn and look at publishing my own stories. Well, I've started planning to do just that. It's early days, but so far so good. I'm not scared to death yet and am taking it one day at a time.
I had a weird dream last night. I was driving my daughter somewhere and ended up downtown -- which in Jamaica is not always a good place to be. First we were driving and then we were walking with a whole lot of bags, as if the car broke down, but I can't be sure. I stop to buy something and am trying to maneuver the bags between us when a man offers to help. I tell him no, but somehow between switching bags, he ended up with a blouse I was carrying. He walks with us up and over this bridge and the next thing I know, he is ahead of us and moving too fast. I shout out to him and he begins running. I try to give chase but I have a bum knee -- I really do -- and can't move fast enough. My daughter is not moving very fast either although I'm thinking she's younger than me and should be able to run. So we start screaming 'thief! thief!'. People hear and 2 young men give chase. The man throws the blouse in the park and runs in a different direction. Then he's not a man, but a woman. She falls in the road. A girl comes from nowhere and drags her up and they run off and escape. We go back to retrieve the blouse but find we are behind this low wall. I'm panicked because I want to get back to the place he threw the blouse and retrieve it. For some reason, I thought it important though I made the blouse. I'm telling my daughter to jump down but she's afraid of the height and I begin to get annoyed. Just as we're about to jump down, I wake with a massive headache. I wish if someone could tell me what this means.
I should add that the bridge we walk up and over, has been recurring in my dreams for years. It's always the same bridge, in the same area but usually coming from somewhere different and leading to different things. Weird, huh?
Till later....
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