I often find it amusing how those of you with four seasons bitch about the heat of summer… Until you post the fucking temperatures. Like… 107°F?? Fuuuuck! It’s consistently hot/warm in Trinidad but like, if it hits the 90′s that’s a really hot day. Our highest ever recorded temperature in Port of Spain is 100°F. How the hell do y’all live?
That is perhaps the most irrelevant question anyone could ask or bother trying to answer.
Why don’t White folks ever ask questions like; “honestly, do you believe that White people hold a disproportionate amount of the world’s resources?”
Or; “honestly, do you believe that it’s wise to allow Whites to sustain nuclear arsenals capable of killing all complex life forms on this planet; can we be trusted with these weapons (especially since we are the only Race of people in human history to ever use such a weapon against other people)?”
Or; “honestly, do you believe that the majority of White people would willing to sacrifice their opulence and stolen wealth to save the world’s ecosystems, and end the suffering of the majority of the planets inhabitants?”
Or; “honestly, do you believe that White people are even capable of stopping or reversing their drive to destroy the very life sustaining capacity of the earth?”
Or; “honestly, do you think that White people can ever fully acknowledge the humanity of non-Whites, because doing so would call our own humanity into question because of our genocidal and psychopathic treatment of all other humans; ya think?”
Why don’t White people ever ask those kinds of questions? Questions that have relevant answers. Why are you White people so interested in trying to get non-Whites to guess what’s in the personal, individual feelings and thoughts of the Global White Minority? Like we even give a flying fuck what any individual White person thinks about us, their feelings about our Race? Why the fuck should that even matter?
Oh wait, it matters cuz yall have the bombs, all the stolen wealth and resources, and yall are hyper-aggressive and have consistently slaughtered millions to impose yall will on others who ain’t did shit to yall; that’s why it matters.
Really, I don’t care if all Whites are Racist, or they are unwashed, free-loving hippies; cuz what’s in the individual thoughts of individual Whites has never impacted the Systems and Institutions of Global White Domination; and that’s the fucking problem.
Whites has not made even a minor effort, or had a minor level of success in dismantling the Systems and Institutions of White Domination. Even when non-Racist come to power, they still do all they can to sustain and advance the Systems and Institutions of Global White Domination, along with the Omnicidal Economic practices yall have imposed on the world.
I don’t give a fuck if Whites fully embraced Blacks, if every single White Racist had a sudden change of heart, and embraced all Blacks as brothers and sisters; we’d still have to engage in Pan-African Revolutionary Struggle, because the Systems, Institutions, and Economies that yall have imposed on the world is killing the world, and even when non-Whites achieve success in yall systems it’s still killing the world and the world’s ecosystems.
So, I don’t give a fuck about individual White people’s feelings about Race (unless they are standing before me with the ability and intent to harm me, I will deal it then); and you should not give a fuck about me giving a fuck about what individual Whites think; you should find other Whites who can overcome their own indoctrination, and organize like hell, among yourselves to dismantle the Systems and Institutions of Global White Domination; it’s in yall best interest to do so, not to save non-Whites, but to save yourselves from yourselves.
This is interesting. I looked up the Muppet Wiki Page. Sesamestreet.org uses “Bert & Ernie” officially. But there was an equal number of books, albums, videos etc. under “Ernie & Bert”.
Judging from their book titles, “Ernie and Bert” seems to have been more commonly used during to 70′s to about the mid 80′s and then “Bert and Ernie” after that, but there are exceptions. I grew up in the 70′s, and that’s why I might remember them as “Ernie and Bert”.
As if women are somehow deficient if their thighs touch.
Or fat.
I have never had a thigh gap and never will.
I know because at 5′10″ I have been as thin as 120lbs. and still my thighs touched.
It has nothing to do with weight and everything to do with your body build. Women with wide set hips will have a thigh gap. Women with a narrower pelvic girdle will not.
That’s it.
God it’s like we don’t have enough shit to obsess about on our bodies let’s just add one more fucking bullshit thing.
Let me know when brown skin on brown skinned people becomes the hot new thing. I’ll be all up in that shit.
It’s weird… growing up we always called them Ernie and Bert. It was only a few years ago when that whole are they gay stupidity arose that I heard people referring to them as Bert and Ernie.
Excited to receive the Innovation Award August 2015 by The Shop At Normandie for my Rachel Rochford Artisan Box Premium, where I partner with a different Entrepreneur every month to produce 100% handmade products.
I partnered with Wholesome You for the August 2015 Rachel Rochford Artisan Box Premium which SOLD OUT.
Thank you The Shop At Normandie for recognizing my latest initiative!
Well done!
Let it hurt. Let it bleed. Let it heal. And let it go.
How to deal with a painful experience Jun 17, 2015 (via iwrite-myheart)
honestly I hate when white people visit the caribbean and treat it as a place where everyone is chill and everyone just relaxes and sits on the beach and everything runs on “island time” whatever the fuck that means.
living in the islands is fucking hard and poverty is real and tourism isn’t doing enough to really help fix the endemic problems that plague the caribbean
like y’alls money is going to big resorts instead of into the local economies usually, and meanwhile these people whose lives you exotify and idealize bc you dont understand what it truly means to live in the caribbean literally have to serve you in order to survive
what kinda neo-colonialist bullshit
This is a very serious problem and anyone interested in the subject should read A Small Place by Jamaica Kincaid!!! It’s an excellent look at how colonialism persists through the tourism industry.
It’s a weird thing, making jewellery for a living. Making things in the hope that somebody will like it and buy it.
There’s two schools of thought on how you should approach it. Some people say you should make what you like and you will find your market. Other people say make what people like and your pieces will sell. I tend to straddle the line a bit. I make what I like. But I make more of what sells. I think that’s only sensible.
The funny thing is that you never know what will sell. Sometimes I make something and I know it’s stunning, and everybody else thinks so too. But other times I make something that’s nice, but simple, and everyone’s reaction is all wow and I really don’t know why. What are they responding to? No idea.
Thing is that wow doesn’t necessarily translate to sales. People can go gaga over your stuff and still not buy anything. It’s something you can’t take personally. Because it feels a lot like rejection. So you can’t get your hopes up just because someone responds enthusiastically to your work. It just makes it that much easier to handle when it doesn’t result in a sale.
Of course a sale is the best feeling. Not just for the money. It’s also really affirming that someone will actually pay money for something you made. From scratch. With your own hands. From and idea that came out of your head. It always feels kind of amazing. Like for a moment, someone gets me. And that feels really good.
So I’m not at the stage where I’m making a living yet. But hopefully at some point I will. I’ve only just started. There are opportunities out there, I just have to find my way. In the meantime I remain optimistic and receptive to whatever comes my way. I don’t know how this is going to pan out, but I’m really hoping that I’m on to something good. Time alone will tell.
Bronze hand stamped ladder necklace with black Quartz Crystal, gold and black glass beads #necklace #artisanjewelry #handmade #sundarajewelry #jewelry #bronze #handstamped
New listings available now at www.sundarajewelry.com! Hand stamped bronze sun earrings with sea urchin spines. #earrings #jewelry #sundarajewelry #artisanjewelry #handmade #handstamped #bronze
New listings available now at www.sundarajewelry.com! Hand stamped bronze sun earrings with sea urchin spines. #earrings #jewelry #sundarajewelry #artisanjewelry #handmade #handstamped #bronze
So without doing an in depth analysis, this therapist I saw yesterday confirmed that I show signs of having ADD.
It’s something I’ve suspected since college. But I recently read someone’s account of what it was like to live with ADHD and it described me almost perfectly, which was what lead me to talk to someone about it (I don’t have the hyperactivity part).
I realise I’ve developed really good coping mechanisms over the years but some things I just plain suck at, like listening. It’s affected my studies when I was a student, my jobs, and all of my relationships negatively.
———
Hah. I started this post about two hours ago and guess what? Got totally distracted. Ended up doing all sorts of things and then came back on my laptop to find it here. Case in point.
Elephants may have a specific alarm call for ‘human!’ New research on African elephants suggests the highly intelligent animals use a specific ‘word’ — a low, distinct rumbling noise — to warn their friends and families about the presence of people.
In honor of World Elephant Day, we present you with 12 little known facts about one of our favorite creatures…in GIFs, of course.
1. Elephants know every member of their herd and are able to recognize up to 30 companions by sight or smell.
2. They can remember and distinguish particular cues that signal danger and can recall locations long after their last visit.
3. An elephant’s memory is not limited to its herd, nor is it limited to its species. In one instance, two circus elephants that performed together rejoiced when crossing paths 23 years later. Elephants have also recognized humans that they once bonded with after decades apart. 4.
4. The elephant boasts the largest brain of any land mammal as well as an impressive encephalization quotient (the size of the animal’s brain relative to its body size). The elephant’s EQ is nearly as high as a chimpanzee’s.
5. The elephant brain is remarkably similar to the human brain, with as many neurons and synapses, as well as a highly developed hippocampus and cerebral cortex.
6. Elephants are one of the few non-human animals to suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder.
7. Elephants are creative problem solvers.
8. Don’t try to outsmart an elephant! They have an understanding of basic arithmetic and can even keep track of relative quantities.
9. Elephants communicate using everything from body signals to infrared rumbles that can be heard from kilometers away. Their understanding of syntax suggests that they have their own language and grammar.
10. Elephants can recognize 12 distinct tones of music and recreate melodies.
11. Elephants are the only non-human animals to mourn their dead, performing burial rituals and returning to visit graves.
12. Elephants are one of the few species who can recognize themselves in the mirror.
Given what we now know about elephants, and what they continue to teach us about animal intelligence, it is more important than ever to make sure that these magnificent creatures do not vanish.
Illustrator Mary Engelbreit has made many fans for her work in stationery, home goods, and children’s books for over 30 years. But today, some of
those fans are not so happy with anti-racist artwork she’s posted on her
Facebook as a tribute to Michael Brown, who was killed nearly a year
ago.
I went on her page a read some of the 35,000+ comments. While most were positive there were several that were just dripping with venom.
I read the word “thug” in three minutes more than times than I cared to count. It made my blood boil so I just came off the page.
You know, even if Mike Brown stole some cigarillos and smoked some weed, does he deserve that title? They act like he was a career criminal. Like he was running guns and throwing up gang signs since he was ten. What makes him a thug? They don’t know anything about him. How pristine are we? We never shoplifted? We never smoked weed? I know I have on both counts. Am I at thug too? Where do people get off making blanket statements like that? And how come thugs only seem to come in one colour? How dare people speak of someone they don’t even know like that?
Even if he was a thug, did he deserve to lose his life for it?
I just got my email from Caribbean Airlines giving me instructions on how to reset my password.
How long ago did I contact them again? I forgot but it was like weeks ago right?
The last time I called I was on hold for half an hour and then the lady told me that their email system was down and asked if I would like to call back later. *snort* no
In other stupid customer service news, I ordered some t-shirts from Target, twice, and twice they’ve somehow been mailed to the wrong address. The zip code is wrong and when I tried to change it on their site it wouldn’t let me. I even deleted the address and re-entered it and it still saved the wrong zip code. The dude on the phone was totally unhelpful too. So I guess I’m never buying anything from Target again. Sucks. They have some cool (and cheap) stuff.
I’m almost done cleaning and I just lit the most massive stick of incense I’ve ever seen. It’s a foot long and an inch thick. I had to light it with my mini torch to make sure it caught. Chris bought it off a man on the street the other day. I don’t know what scent it is but it smells lovely.
I also smoked out the house with a mix of myrrh, sage and palo santo wood. Now off to change the sheets and get in the shower.
After giving our living room rug a good shake and a beating I realized that our stupid vacuum is unless when it comes to getting out dirt from the rugs. Of course I’m covered with dust now. Good thing I didn’t shower before I started cleaning. I’m saving that for last so I can give the shower a good scrub and then try some of that black charcoal peppermint soap I bought from the vendor next to me at UpMarket. I cannot wait to get clean. Blech.
“Last night I photographed a Barn Owl hovering above prey at a local farm where I have been baiting them for some time, I did attempt this last winter but failed due to the lens misting, still a work in progress” ~ Roy Rimmer
Zachary Hammond was an unarmed 19-year-old white man who was shot in the back by police over a few grams of marijuana.
Hammond’s parents want to know why there’s no outrage over his death as
there is when unarmed black people are shot down by police.
That’s a fair question; it’s specious if you dig, but understandable given the circumstances. I think what they’re really asking is where is black people’s outrage, but what they really should be asking is where is white people’s.
Black people have NUFF shit to be outraged about because of white supremacy. You’ll have to forgive us if we don’t stop everything we’re doing merely to SURVIVE police encounters to reassure you that your lives matter–particularly in the face of you constantly telling us that our lives don’t. I’m just saying: We know what happened to Zachary Hammond is fucked up and terrible and we’ll march with you if you organize. Hell, WE’RE the ones primarily talking about this on social media (#BlackLivesMatter activists supported Hammond and are the ones who made him a trending topic on Twitter). But SHIT: We are still reeling from Sandra Bland and Aiyana Stanley Jones and Mya Hall and Eric Garner and Kendrick Johnson and Tamir Rice (or haven’t you noticed?)–none of whom had any weed on them. Surely, you can understand that.
Nah?
Okay.
Then let me hit you with something else:
Uncle Remus and Mammy died a long time ago. It’s time for you to grow the fuck up and do your own fucking work.
Another fair question is: Why aren’t there any white people trolling stories about
Hammond’s death claiming he deserved to be killed because he smoked
pot–like they do in stories about black people who have been gunned
down like Hammond?
Why isn’t the media scouring his life to talk about the time, when he was 17, he jaywalked? Or the time in third grade, when he cussed his teacher? Or the time he tagged graffiti? Or threw up a gang sign? Or stayed out past curfew? Or talked back to his parents? Or stole a pack of gum from the grocery store? Or broke a crayon in nursery school–like they do when the victim is black? Are they asking whether he talked back to the officer? Or ran? Or put his hands in his pockets? All coded questions meant to imply that his murder was justified. Where are the pictures of him looking “menacing” or smoking weed–since we know he was into that sort of shit?
Jamilah Lemieux
also makes a valid point when she says that showing outrage over
Hammond’s death puts white supremacists in a precarious position of
either:
1. Having to backtrack on their consistent support of
police when white people are victims thereby exposing their racism
because they don’t waver in their support of police when black victims
are in identical situations as white victims; or
2. Going ahead
and showing outrage for Hammond’s death thereby exposing their racism
because they don’t show the same outrage when black victims are in
situations with the police that are identical to Hammond’s.
n these situations, anti-black racists are trapped between a rock and a
hard place because whatever they do will expose their racism. And in
this day and age, white people think–they truly believe and feel–that
being *called* a racist is vastly worse than actually being a racist or
being a victim of racism. Outrage would be to admit that black people
were correct the whole time. And they cannot bear that revelation. So
they choose silence, which is also telling in its own way.
Or it could be, as Marla German said, that white people are so caught up in Whiteness that they are dismissing Hammond’s situation as a fluke rather than the intentional hunting that occurs with black people; that white people still feel safe RELATIVE to black people, which is key to maintaining white supremacy. As long as unarmed blacks and other people or color are dying at a greater proportion than white people, it’s okay to regard Hammond’s death, as Felicia Gray said, as a casualty rather than a repercussion. This, too, reveals much.
Another thing is that unlike many white people, many black people don’t go into topics about Hammond and tap dance on white people’s misery and mourning. We’re not creating memes talking about how we’re glad he’s dead and starting Go Fund Me and Kickstarter accounts to help the cop get off scot-free. We’re not shouting into the faces of funeral attendees: BLUE LIVES MATTER! ALL LIVES MATTER! Not just white lives!
Many of us actually feel horrible about what happened to Hammond and hope that the killer cop is brought to justice–even as we watch many white people cheer when cops get off for killing black people.
In other words, we express what too many white people seem incapable of expressing when the situation is reversed: basic humanity, empathy, and decency.
We UNDERSTAND even in the face of many white people’s stunning and purposeful withholding of their own understanding toward us.
Black people have been trying to tell white people for CENTURIES: The jail you build for us is the one you’re going to rot in (to paraphrase Celie from THE COLOR PURPLE). What happens to US is but a precursor of what’s going to happen to YOU. It’s not our fault that, despite the plain and obvious evidence, you don’t believe us. It’s not our fault that, despite the plain and obvious evidence, you don’t believe us.
And the price of your foolishness will be your children’s graves laid down next to our own.
Rest in peace, Zachary Hammond. May your parents find the justice that continues to be denied to so many other parents.
[Photo description: Indoors. A white man, Zachary Hammond, is smiling
into the camera. He’s wearing a hoodie with the hood down. Next to him
is a plastic building toy/apparatus, the kind used in academic
institutions to replicate DNA strands.]
Where is the outrage? Ask your fellow white people; Hammonds.=. The only people I’ve heard about this execution from are other Black folks. That’s it.
Not a peep from the “All lives matter” crowd, no cops, nothing.
They dont give a shit. They’re perfectly happy to rationalize every cops’ actions as just no matter what until the hammer swings, albeit with rare frequency, in their direction.
now they want us to do their footwork? Pssshh.
^^^^
I have seen A LOT of posts on this from a variety of people the past few days and every single one of them has been of the “where’s the outrage” variety. So I don’t know why people keep wondering where it is rather than feeling it. I’m pretty upset by all of it.
I was tagged today by houseofjules2 for a selfie meme with no rules which is totally my kinda meme.
I had woken up from a nap a little while ago when I took these pics so here’s my wake up face. I’ve pretty much spent the day in bed relaxing as I haven’t taken a day off in ages. It’s been nice. And Chris just brought a big bowl of popcorn so that’s awesome.
IVE MET A SEX OFFENDER ON THE APP TINDER AND IM WARNING EVERYONE IN AND AROUND AUSTIN TEXAS OF THIS MAN. I CONTACTED TINDER AND THEY REFUSE TO TAKE ANY FURTHER ACTION. PLEASE REBLOG THIS SO THAT OTHER GIRLS CAN STAY SAFE FROM THIS MAN. HES TERRIBLE.
Liking this iSNT HELPING. REBLOG IT. A SIMPLE LIKE IS NOT LETTING OTHER WOMEN SEE THIS.
ITS FOR CHILD PORNOGRAPHY BTW. CHILD. PORNOGRAPHY.
Tumblr is so exhausting sometimes. Care about this. Care about that too or you’re a bad person. Reblog this or you’re a bad person. What about this. I’m judging you. I’m judging you for judging me. Ugh.
So I just slept for about sixteen hours. I woke up a few times in between but couldn’t stay awake. All that preparing for UpMarket was tiring. Yesterday I was really wired but after we left I crashed. Hard.
We’re taking the stepsons to a big arcade kinda place in South today hopefully. Looking forward to it. We haven’t seen them in a while. They had chicken pox. On their summer holidays. How’s that for bad luck?
He’s older, he’s muscular, he’s exhausted. This less than idealized figure is typical of the Hellenistic style of sculpture that celebrated the portrait as a way to portray emotion.
“When I was 26, I went to Indonesia and the Philippines to do research for my first book, No Logo.
I had a simple goal: to meet the workers making the clothes and
electronics that my friends and I purchased. And I did. I spent evenings
on concrete floors in squalid dorm rooms where teenage girls—sweet and
giggly—spent their scarce nonworking hours. Eight or even 10 to a room.
They told me stories about not being able to leave their machines to
pee. About bosses who hit. About not having enough money to buy dried
fish to go with their rice.
They knew they were being badly exploited—that the garments
they were making were being sold for more than they would make in a
month. One 17-year-old said to me: “We make computers, but we don’t know
how to use them.”
So one thing I found slightly jarring was that some of these
same workers wore clothing festooned with knockoff trademarks of the
very multinationals that were responsible for these conditions: Disney
characters or Nike check marks. At one point, I asked a local labor
organizer about this. Wasn’t it strange—a contradiction?
It took a very long time for him to understand the question.
When he finally did, he looked at me like I was nuts. You see, for him
and his colleagues, individual consumption wasn’t considered to be in
the realm of politics at all. Power rested not in what you did as one
person, but what you did as many people, as one part of a large,
organized, and focused movement. For him, this meant organizing workers
to go on strike for better conditions, and eventually it meant winning
the right to unionize. What you ate for lunch or happened to be wearing
was of absolutely no concern whatsoever.
This was striking to me, because it was the mirror opposite
of my culture back home in Canada. Where I came from, you expressed your
political beliefs—firstly and very often lastly—through personal
lifestyle choices. By loudly proclaiming your vegetarianism. By shopping
fair trade and local and boycotting big, evil brands.
These very different understandings of social change came up
again and again a couple of years later, once my book came out. I would
give talks about the need for international protections for the right
to unionize. About the need to change our global trading system so it
didn’t encourage a race to the bottom. And yet at the end of those
talks, the first question from the audience was: “What kind of sneakers
are OK to buy?” “What brands are ethical?” “Where do you buy your
clothes?” “What can I do, as an individual, to change the world?”
Fifteen years after I published No Logo, I still
find myself facing very similar questions. These days, I give talks
about how the same economic model that superpowered multinationals to
seek out cheap labor in Indonesia and China also supercharged global
greenhouse-gas emissions. And, invariably, the hand goes up: “Tell me
what I can do as an individual.” Or maybe “as a business owner.”
The hard truth is that the answer to the question “What can
I, as an individual, do to stop climate change?” is: nothing. You can’t
do anything. In fact, the very idea that we—as atomized individuals,
even lots of atomized individuals—could play a significant part in
stabilizing the planet’s climate system, or changing the global economy,
is objectively nuts. We can only meet this tremendous challenge
together. As part of a massive and organized global movement.
The irony is that people with relatively little power tend
to understand this far better than those with a great deal more power.
The workers I met in Indonesia and the Philippines knew all too well
that governments and corporations did not value their voice or even
their lives as individuals. And because of this, they were driven to act
not only together, but to act on a rather large political canvas. To
try to change the policies in factories that employ thousands of
workers, or in export zones that employ tens of thousands. Or the labor
laws in an entire country of millions. Their sense of individual
powerlessness pushed them to be politically ambitious, to demand
structural changes.
In contrast, here in wealthy countries, we are told how
powerful we are as individuals all the time. As consumers. Even
individual activists. And the result is that, despite our power and
privilege, we often end up acting on canvases that are unnecessarily
small—the canvas of our own lifestyle, or maybe our neighborhood or
town. Meanwhile, we abandon the structural changes—the policy and legal
work— to others.”
It’s been really affirming to get such overwhelmingly positive feedback.
The word I keep hearing is “beautiful” over and over again. I guess I really gave my brand the right name.
A lady came up to my table and was studying my pieces intently. She asked if everything was handmade which I assured her it was. She asked me a few more questions and then introduced herself as the manager of a certain store that I had actually intended to contact. She told me to expect a call in Monday. “Your pieces are beautiful. I’m going to carry you.”
Tonight’s drawing is a little abstract watercolor and colored pencil sketch.
Off topic again, but if you all have spare time and are looking for something to do, I would really appreciate it if you would take a look at my last post. My brother is shaping up nicely to place in a very big contest which he qualified for. The winner will receive prize money to help build a big skate obstacle out in California. This has been a dream of his for a while 🙂 we are thinking of putting together an awesome art giveaway package for all of the support ❤️ thank you!
#art #drawing #elephant http://ift.tt/1eZ05iG
I came home today to find a car parked in front of our gate. We live at the end of a dead-end lane so the only people that should go down our lane are the people that are going to be parking in our yard. But someone had come to the house opposite which has no parking and decided to park in front of our gate. So I did what Chris always does and I parked my car and went upstairs because fuck that I have shit to do. I was already hungry and that put me in a bad mood.
As I was locking the iron gate on the porch, the guy next door came out to ask me to move the car. I paused for a second, glared at him, and then turned to go put my bag on the couch when he yelled, “Eh eh! Doh try dat!”
Excuse. Fucking. Me?
“Don’t try WHAT? I’m putting my bag down. Don’t try WHAT. Is y’all parking yuh car in front of MY gate.”
He obviously thought I was just going to go inside and leave my car there. Which quite frankly if I had what the fuck could he do about it.
His asshole daughter’s boyfriend in the meantime came out to move his cunthead car. I knew it was his. He’s such a fucking shit head. He’ll park his car in the lane and then give people attitude when they ask him to move it.
He was uncharacteristically silent this time.
Realising he did shit, the neighbour started opening our gate and instructed cunthead to turn in our yard so I wouldn’t have to reverse all the way back to the street.
I marched downstairs and started opening the other side of the gate, very obviously pissed.
“No, no it’s ok let me do it.”
Steups.
I kept unlatching the gate.
“No, no leave it I’ll do it.”
He practically wrestled it out of my hand.
How about sorry, asshole?
So I got into my car and drove into the yard and watched the boyfriend make a 40 point turn and then stop his car in exactly the space I needed to park my car in, and signal for me to drive in.
Nice of you to ask me where I needed to park before you decided for yourself.
I signaled to him that he was in fact blocking my spot.
He now proceeded to make another 40 point turn to manoeuvre into another spot that would allow me to park.
I parked my car and he drove out of there and the neighbour graciously closed the gate for me and disappeared next door.
How very kind.
Then I got out of my car into the fucking mud because my asshole downstairs neighbour has once again decided to park in my parking space and congratulated myself on not committing murder today.
I just realized I needed something to display my business cards. A quick trip to Pinterest yielded a similar design. I put my own spin on it and there we have it. Made from 14 gauge copper wire and some ceramic beads I’ve had laying around forever. Glad I finally found a purpose for them.
I’ll start with the simplest one. For as long as I can remember the sense of racial/ethnic division heightens around election season. It makes me wonder – Why is this so? Where does it stem from? How many people I interact with, if any, harbour prejudicial/ racial feelings towards me even though they seem so nice? Why supporters don’t condemn statements made by their political leaders? Etc etc
“How we vote is not how we party” – David Rudder ; Trini to d Bone.
Another thought concerns those who reside in Laventille, Beetham and other well known “crime hot spots”. Is it difficult it is for qualified persons to get gainful employment due to their residency? I remember watching a video of a guy who changed his name from Jose to Joe on identical résumés and received contrasting responses. I’ve wondered if similar results will be gotten here.
Far as I know that racial divide has always been a manifestation of the political agenda. It’s one of the ways they get people to vote along party lines. It’s not that I don’t think that racism/prejudice doesn’t exist, but I think the politicians exploit and magnify the divide for their own purposes. I think a lot of people DO condemn those statements and many of the other idiotic things our politicians say on a daily basis. But I also think when it comes to party politics a lot of people lose their heads. I was asking my husband and a friend of his if they thought more people here voted along party lines or if they voted for who they felt represented them best. They were both adamant that most people vote along party lines. And that tends to follow along racial lines too. And that pretty much says a lot about how people think.
I have friends and acquaintances from Laventille, Morvant, even Gonzales in Belmont etc. From what I’ve seen, it hasn’t held them back. There’s been a lot of prominent Trinidadians to come out of those areas, after all. I think it’s harder for Beetham residents. I think there’s a lot more prejudice against that area. That’s my assessment though. I haven’t ever met, to my knowledge anyway, anyone from there so I’ve never had the chance to ask them.
Chris said I was tossing and turning all night and that he thinks I’m a bit excited about UpMarket. Stressed is more like it.
I’d contacted the organiser weeks ago and when I didn’t hear from her I made up my mind I wasn’t going. So when she finally got back to me I really wasn’t prepared. But I decided to go anyway because it only comes about once a month (I think) and I thought it would be a great opportunity to get some exposure.
But it’s been a scramble to get ready and finish all the pieces I was working on. I’m done working today though. I need a rest. Well… I may make myself a pair of earrings but that’s about it. I have some stuff to do for the display, I have a sign to go pick up, I have a bazillion things to price. So it’s not a lay in bed and relax day but at least I’m not in the studio working. I really need a break from that.
I spent a huge chunk of my day working on a ring for a client.
For some reason I could not get it right. I made it last night and messed it up. I started over today and messed it up. Luckily I had made some extra bands and was able to use one of those to finish the order.
I hate when I have days like that. I had some other things I wanted to work on for UpMarket on Saturday and now I don’t know if I’m gonna have the time.
Well… at least this order is completed. Tomorrow I’m pricing my goods and getting my display stuff together.
I could do with another day or two to get this in order but I don’t have the extra time. Saturday or bust! Wish me luck.
I got a call from my dentist’s office reminding about my appointment tomorrow for my bone graft. Ack. Totally forgot about it.
I rescheduled last time because I had the flu. I had to reschedule again. I can’t spend all day Saturday selling at UpMarket with a healing bone graft.
I heal up quickly but I don’t relish spending six hours selling my wares with stitches in my mouth.
So August 28th it is. Hopefully nothing new will present itself.
Tri-layered om necklace with smokey quartz rondelles, hand stamped brass pendant with brass and glass beads. Available @wadadamovement http://ift.tt/1IK02ir
This sweet pup named Kristy is now looking more like the beauty queen she was always destined to be, thanks to one rescue organization. Vet Ranch, a nonprofit in Texas, rescued her just before she was scheduled to be euthanized at a kill shelter, at which point Kristy was in bad shape. She had several health issues including mange, a severe skin infection, along with intestinal fleas and parasites.
Write down a sad memory. Put it in a box. Burn the box and sprinkle the ashes in the field. You may give some ashes to a friend who shared the sadness.
CLEANING PIECE II
Make a numbered list of sadness in your life. Pile up stones corresponding to those numbers. Add a stone, each time there is sadness. Burn the list, and appreciate the mount of stones for its beauty.
Make a numbered list of happiness in your life. Pile up stones corresponding to those numbers. Add a stone, each time there is happiness. Compare the mount of stones to the one of sadness.
CLEANING PIECE III
Try to say nothing negative about anybody. a) for three days b) for forty-five days c) for three months
See what happens to your life.
CLEANING PIECE IV
Write down everything you fear in life. Burn it. Pour herbal oil with a sweet scent on the ashes.
CLEANING PIECE V
Let a list of arbitary names come into your mind as you go to sleep. Say “bless you” after each name. Do this with speed, by keeping a constant rythm, so, in no way, you would hesitate to bless them.
just going to bed, ships passing each other in the night!!! or something…also good luck what always helps me is a heating pad applied directly to the forehead. xoxo
Goodnight! Need to get a heating pad or borrow my mom’s
soulsistrin 