Being in final year has an interesting effect on the mind. Firstly, you feel strangely senior to all of your peers who aren't finishing with you; and at times you feel bad for leaving them, especially when they came in with you. Secondly, the phrase "I don't know" has an eerie frightfulness because the cushion of an incomplete programme erodes to a hard rock that you will land on. And thirdly, there's a lot more reflection on what you have done than there is on what you will do (well in my case).
When I'm finished here, I'll have a first degree. This separates me from a lot of people who have dropped out or just haven't tried. And if I get honours this will further separate me. In life we ascribe value to many things - it's called "prioritization". A degree is worth something, a job is worth something. We make sacrifices based on our perceived value of what we are trying to attain. So I stay up late, fighting sleep, trying to learn a topic for a test. Or I change my diet and run until my heart is just about to faint so that I can lose weight or build muscle and achieve a figure (close to the one I personally have :o) ). I may even go as far as cutting a few friends out of my life so that I can focus on my dreams. These things are not bad in themselves and sacrificing them may make the world of a difference between living a dream and dreaming a life.
John Piper once described a wise man as one whose life makes sense in light of his reality. I had a really weird dream this week which woke me up to my reality. I've been going to school and working, day and night, 6 days a week. I poured myself into my work like it was all that mattered. In fact, all that mattered was my work. Then I had the dream (and no, I won't tell you it). But when I woke I realised that this was not my reality. I'm not a hamster, stuck in a wheel, or a mouse in a maze chasing cheese. My life does not, and will not consist in the abundance of my possessions. In my world the bottom line is not the peak.
So then, really and truly, my life wasn't making sense in light of my reality. I don't live for myself - for the stocks and bonds, or the fame or the Blackberry (or Android or iPhone) or whatever this present world can offer me. In my reality, Christ died for me (and you) so that we will no longer live for ourselves but for him. In my reality maybe we all are hamsters. Maybe there are no men, just mice stuck in a maze chasing some form of cheese. Maybe we all are just slaves who live for their masters. Our masters determine what's important. One says "You can have your pick of the pretty things - everything at once, everything you've seen, everything you'll need, everything you've ever had in fantasies. You've one life left to lead". The other says, "The pagans run after these things...What does it profit a man to gain the whole world yet forfeit his very self?"
Of course, this doesn't mean that I'll stop working hard at school and trying to be the best I can be. It just means that I don't study at the expense of pleasing my master. I believe that I live for a purpose higher than myself and in doing so I value all else I gain as a loss if my master isn't proud.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Monday, February 21, 2011
A Taste Of Honey Jam
Today I put my social life to sleep. It served me well the last few months but since I have a test in two days and I used up all my lime time in the first three weeks I decided to put my foot down, my butt to the chair and my head in my books (well the nerd in me). But alas! The NBA, my saving grace, had its All-Star weekend so you know that work had to take the backdoor. But I'm not one to shut off activities abruptly and without flare so tonight I watched my social life slowly bleed out like honey - that was sweet.
I got a freelance photography job for a showcase called "A Taste of Honey Jam". Honey Jam is a Canadian showcase where women...jam, basically. This was just a test run and much to the disappointment of the crowd, the location was too small. I guess that was the only draw back of having a taste, but it left everyone wanting more. My social life died a happy chap that day - for obvious and not so obvious reasons :o) - as I expressed my Ray-Ray style of photography (no, it's not blind photos it's the other Ray-Ray). But my social life is now dead (or on vacation somewhere in the Caribbean) so let me continue with how it died.
The showcase only featured local artistes, singers and a dancer. The dancer is the first and easiest to describe because she was the lone dancer. I'm not a girl so I don't know what material her dress was - or even if it was white, off grey, pale cream or light off-white - but it had glittery thingies on it that jingled every time she shook her booty. It was nonetheless mesmerizing as she twirled and swayed and wined to an indian rhythm played on the drums. It was like in the movie Alexander, when he went to Asia.
Now I often hear citizens cry down our musicians because of what they do (like Rihanna) or what they don't do. Some people think that there are better things to do than following your risky dreams. Putting yourself in a place where you don't know what will happen next, because anything can happen, seems to very counter cultural in Barbados. So like crabs in a barrel artists get stamped on or have to scrunt for support when living outside of "wukkup". I realised two things today: (1) there's a lot of talent out there and the notion of teaching yourself does not always work. In most cases, the wiser one teaches the fool. (2) What you do is not who you are. I love writing. I write, but I'm not a writer. I also love basketball, drumming, dancing, eating and mathematics. Does that make me a writetdandruheatematician? No. It makes me a human who does all these things. Maybe we should ask the next generation, "What do you want to do when you grow up?"
I say this because some people think that if they sing and get fans and money that they have to abandon everything else that they are good at. So in essence, they can't follow strict rules in a subject and then make their own in another. It's a very one dimensional thinking. In many cases you can do both because we were meant to live, firstly, then live in 3-dimensions; not be an engineer or a guitarist. But what if living was my hobby? Before I digress any further I'll go back to the story.
I'm not a fan of country, I'm not a fan of ancient-modern and I'm not a fan of crazy. Well that's the irony of life, I guess. My favourite performance was Malissa Alanna, a little (in age) country/pop singer. I saw all of these old men come on stage dressed like The Who at the Superbowl XLIV and I thought to myself, "That's strange". Then Malissa came on and the crowd screamed like when Beiber hit that 3 pointer in the Celebrity Game on Friday. And the guitars started...*sigh*...need I say more?
I'm not usually one to be mean with people but you really should have been there. It was one of the few shows that I went to which did not have a bad performance, not even in the relative sense. I bet my social life is smiling up in heaven right now thanking me for a wonderful night. Oh wait, it's on vacation!
I got a freelance photography job for a showcase called "A Taste of Honey Jam". Honey Jam is a Canadian showcase where women...jam, basically. This was just a test run and much to the disappointment of the crowd, the location was too small. I guess that was the only draw back of having a taste, but it left everyone wanting more. My social life died a happy chap that day - for obvious and not so obvious reasons :o) - as I expressed my Ray-Ray style of photography (no, it's not blind photos it's the other Ray-Ray). But my social life is now dead (or on vacation somewhere in the Caribbean) so let me continue with how it died.
The showcase only featured local artistes, singers and a dancer. The dancer is the first and easiest to describe because she was the lone dancer. I'm not a girl so I don't know what material her dress was - or even if it was white, off grey, pale cream or light off-white - but it had glittery thingies on it that jingled every time she shook her booty. It was nonetheless mesmerizing as she twirled and swayed and wined to an indian rhythm played on the drums. It was like in the movie Alexander, when he went to Asia.
Now I often hear citizens cry down our musicians because of what they do (like Rihanna) or what they don't do. Some people think that there are better things to do than following your risky dreams. Putting yourself in a place where you don't know what will happen next, because anything can happen, seems to very counter cultural in Barbados. So like crabs in a barrel artists get stamped on or have to scrunt for support when living outside of "wukkup". I realised two things today: (1) there's a lot of talent out there and the notion of teaching yourself does not always work. In most cases, the wiser one teaches the fool. (2) What you do is not who you are. I love writing. I write, but I'm not a writer. I also love basketball, drumming, dancing, eating and mathematics. Does that make me a writetdandruheatematician? No. It makes me a human who does all these things. Maybe we should ask the next generation, "What do you want to do when you grow up?"
I say this because some people think that if they sing and get fans and money that they have to abandon everything else that they are good at. So in essence, they can't follow strict rules in a subject and then make their own in another. It's a very one dimensional thinking. In many cases you can do both because we were meant to live, firstly, then live in 3-dimensions; not be an engineer or a guitarist. But what if living was my hobby? Before I digress any further I'll go back to the story.
I'm not a fan of country, I'm not a fan of ancient-modern and I'm not a fan of crazy. Well that's the irony of life, I guess. My favourite performance was Malissa Alanna, a little (in age) country/pop singer. I saw all of these old men come on stage dressed like The Who at the Superbowl XLIV and I thought to myself, "That's strange". Then Malissa came on and the crowd screamed like when Beiber hit that 3 pointer in the Celebrity Game on Friday. And the guitars started...*sigh*...need I say more?
I'm not usually one to be mean with people but you really should have been there. It was one of the few shows that I went to which did not have a bad performance, not even in the relative sense. I bet my social life is smiling up in heaven right now thanking me for a wonderful night. Oh wait, it's on vacation!
Saturday, February 12, 2011
So High
Have you ever felt like you were forgetting something? Sometimes it's a calculator, or your lunch or sometimes it's as bad as your clothes! I'm sure we'd all love to hear the story of how I went to school and forgot my clothes so here goes...Well what do you know! I forgot how that goes :( But going back to my point. Isn't it annoying when at the time you don't need it you remember it? Or when you're too far away to change anything? But what can you do?
Sometimes I feel like my life would make a great movie or a really funny advertisement, like the Doritos ones you see at the Super Bowl. Like the time I was sitting in class and forgot my deodorant in first year. I was just sitting in the lecture theatre when suddenly I had this strange feeling that I was walking unprotected. When I found out, through covert actions, I did the worst thing one could do in that situation - sweat from the nerves. "What if the girl next to me notices? How will I recover from that? I'll be the newest cast on Sesame Street - Stinky!" And thoughts like that, when coupled with "Why am I so nervous? Now I can't stop myself from sweating!" just worsen the problem.
Like Monday. The weather in Barbados has been consistent throughout the year. We here know that it will rain, we just don't know when. So outside could be bright and sunny when you go into class and an hour later you're being trampled by the next class trying to shelter. Or you could decide that outside is really cold so you wear 3 shirts and a hoodie and then you pass out while liming because the rain stopped and the sun is blazing. Such is the weather in Barbados.
I woke up Monday and it was overcast. I knew that it wasn't wise to wear more than one shirt but I decided that since I don't wear black shirts to school that often I could wear one so that when I don't feel like washing I wouldn't be left with 4 black shirts waiting to be worn on the week the rain doesn't fall. So I put on my black shirt, dark and thick, and headed off to school. I went through the first class, looking all cool and feeling protected from the cold AC and then sat under a tree for an hour, liming. As I sat I noticed a change in the atmosphere. Something was wrong. Like a Prairie Dog I stuck my head above the ground and sniffed. My senses told me that there was nothing to fear but my gut knew better. Then that unfamiliar, but known, feeling came over me. I knew I'd forgotten to do something. I wasted no time in thinking that I had no protection; being vulnerable to the internal assault waiting to succeed. But then the opposition came.
"Do you remember bathing?" - "No," I said, "I was so sleepy I can't remember how I got here this morning."
(These are some of the dangers of lacking sleep). As I began to drop my shields the enchantment picked up just too quickly. I watched a movie once and the philosopher told the emperor that "he who knows the weather wins the war." The wind picked up and thrust the forces slightly over the line and that is when I knew something was definitely wrong. The alarms went off and I began to panic. For obvious reasons: I had on 2 shirts, the outer one was thick and black, I was outside and the sun was not easing up. Since this wasn't the first time it happened I just collected my thoughts, calculated the distance to the nearest store and factored in the cloud cover, humidity (the devil of all devils) and barometric pressure. Then I waited for the opportune moment.
There was but one problem. I'm not the type to leave for class any earlier that 10 minutes before and class was 40 minutes away - 3 minutes stroll. How was I going to justify my abrupt disappearance from society? It was too early to get food and I was surely NOT going to say, "Well guys I'm going to buy deodorant." I do have a social life which needs to be fed. So I tried to keep cool in the blazing heat, in the black shirt and I waited. I pretended that my heart was not beating for quickly for my liking or that I wasn't heating up inside this igloo that I built in the tropics. Thirteen minutes passed and I decided to say, "Hey guys I'm going for lunch." I got up and ran to the store. Two steps later I realised that I would have to stand in line, probably in front of someone, so I walked. Fortunately, when I got to the store it was empty. I bought a drink, something to eat and called for the deodorant.
There were 5 types on the shelf and usually, when I buy deodorant I like to smell them first to make sure it's not too girly or too manly (you know like the ones that were clearly made for lumberjacks and old men). So I asked for the brand and the cashier asked which one. *car crash*...In the state that I was in any would have done but since I would have to use it in the next month I had to smell them. Just as I was about to ask to smell them two people walked in and iPanik'd. For some reason, maybe because I had on a black shirt I said the black one.
I was fortunate to survive that close call on Monday. I had decided to take an extra $10 that day "because I may have to use it that day". If I hadn't then I wouldn't have enough for food and so, as mom said, either I would have fainted or everyone else would have. So I'm going to test out my black deodorant over this weekend and see if I'm good at rash decisions (no pun intended).
Sometimes I feel like my life would make a great movie or a really funny advertisement, like the Doritos ones you see at the Super Bowl. Like the time I was sitting in class and forgot my deodorant in first year. I was just sitting in the lecture theatre when suddenly I had this strange feeling that I was walking unprotected. When I found out, through covert actions, I did the worst thing one could do in that situation - sweat from the nerves. "What if the girl next to me notices? How will I recover from that? I'll be the newest cast on Sesame Street - Stinky!" And thoughts like that, when coupled with "Why am I so nervous? Now I can't stop myself from sweating!" just worsen the problem.
Like Monday. The weather in Barbados has been consistent throughout the year. We here know that it will rain, we just don't know when. So outside could be bright and sunny when you go into class and an hour later you're being trampled by the next class trying to shelter. Or you could decide that outside is really cold so you wear 3 shirts and a hoodie and then you pass out while liming because the rain stopped and the sun is blazing. Such is the weather in Barbados.
I woke up Monday and it was overcast. I knew that it wasn't wise to wear more than one shirt but I decided that since I don't wear black shirts to school that often I could wear one so that when I don't feel like washing I wouldn't be left with 4 black shirts waiting to be worn on the week the rain doesn't fall. So I put on my black shirt, dark and thick, and headed off to school. I went through the first class, looking all cool and feeling protected from the cold AC and then sat under a tree for an hour, liming. As I sat I noticed a change in the atmosphere. Something was wrong. Like a Prairie Dog I stuck my head above the ground and sniffed. My senses told me that there was nothing to fear but my gut knew better. Then that unfamiliar, but known, feeling came over me. I knew I'd forgotten to do something. I wasted no time in thinking that I had no protection; being vulnerable to the internal assault waiting to succeed. But then the opposition came.
"Do you remember bathing?" - "No," I said, "I was so sleepy I can't remember how I got here this morning."
(These are some of the dangers of lacking sleep). As I began to drop my shields the enchantment picked up just too quickly. I watched a movie once and the philosopher told the emperor that "he who knows the weather wins the war." The wind picked up and thrust the forces slightly over the line and that is when I knew something was definitely wrong. The alarms went off and I began to panic. For obvious reasons: I had on 2 shirts, the outer one was thick and black, I was outside and the sun was not easing up. Since this wasn't the first time it happened I just collected my thoughts, calculated the distance to the nearest store and factored in the cloud cover, humidity (the devil of all devils) and barometric pressure. Then I waited for the opportune moment.
There was but one problem. I'm not the type to leave for class any earlier that 10 minutes before and class was 40 minutes away - 3 minutes stroll. How was I going to justify my abrupt disappearance from society? It was too early to get food and I was surely NOT going to say, "Well guys I'm going to buy deodorant." I do have a social life which needs to be fed. So I tried to keep cool in the blazing heat, in the black shirt and I waited. I pretended that my heart was not beating for quickly for my liking or that I wasn't heating up inside this igloo that I built in the tropics. Thirteen minutes passed and I decided to say, "Hey guys I'm going for lunch." I got up and ran to the store. Two steps later I realised that I would have to stand in line, probably in front of someone, so I walked. Fortunately, when I got to the store it was empty. I bought a drink, something to eat and called for the deodorant.
There were 5 types on the shelf and usually, when I buy deodorant I like to smell them first to make sure it's not too girly or too manly (you know like the ones that were clearly made for lumberjacks and old men). So I asked for the brand and the cashier asked which one. *car crash*...In the state that I was in any would have done but since I would have to use it in the next month I had to smell them. Just as I was about to ask to smell them two people walked in and iPanik'd. For some reason, maybe because I had on a black shirt I said the black one.
I was fortunate to survive that close call on Monday. I had decided to take an extra $10 that day "because I may have to use it that day". If I hadn't then I wouldn't have enough for food and so, as mom said, either I would have fainted or everyone else would have. So I'm going to test out my black deodorant over this weekend and see if I'm good at rash decisions (no pun intended).
Sunday, February 06, 2011
On Taking Shade From The Sun While Waiting For The Bus: Like Evesdropping On A 79 Year Old Man Hitting On A 75 Year Old Woman
(I dedicate this one to a friend of mine who will probably never read it. But since you can...enjoy!)
Judging from the title you can guess with much certainty what happened to me this week. Operation: Christmas Ham - The Undo Version has restarted (and yes it nearly killed me). Despite the tight chest, back and arms I can still stretch when I yawn and not cry like a baby from the pain. I can touch my toes, hey! I can see my toes when I look down! (that's always a good sign). Sadly though, I still fit the mold of "Skeletal Study" as all but four of my ribs are now visible. You may be wondering by now what that all that Christmas food really did to me. Well it sure didn't make me fat but it did make me lazy. So I can still feel the negative effects of the beginners exercise programme.
I had an interesting week but one of the things which I remember was when I caught the bus...*shock*...and...*awe*. On Saturday, I went to a youth convention. Since our car broke down I had to catch the bus to town. There were three people waiting for the bus: an old man, an old woman and a male youth. As I waited for the bus to come I overheard the old man and the old lady talking about some of their old friends. (Actually I heard the word "girls" and decided to sign into the conversation). I listened as the conversation went on until the old woman reported the obituaries. To which the man replied, "I'm 79." By then I had stopped listening and fully immersed myself into their convo.
The man wore khaki slacks with a crease that could cut steel, white sneakers and a black leather belt. His(90's hip-hop styled) polo was not only pressed smooth as ice but was neatly tucked into his pants. He wore a V-Tech cap and brown shades - maybe his eyes were too strong a lure for the unsuspecting, or even suspecting, female to gaze into. He had more swag than Steve Jobs has mac. Girls wanted him, men wanted to be like him. His secret? "I drink Mackeson and eat oats and barley and take a shot of brandy every now and again."
The old lady was in disbelief that the man was really 79 because he "look good for [he] age." And the conversation ensued:
- "Girl I know I look good but I can also do this..." The man began to raise his left foot.
- "Yes! Yes!" the lady encouraged.
- "But not only that. I can do this..." and the man raised his right foot. Now if the lady was young she would have been hopping with excitement like a pre-teen standing in Justing Beiber's presence (the ones with the strength to stand) but she simply said, "Yes! Yes!" and bounced.
- "But not only can I do that. I can do this..." Placing his arms akimbo, he bent down and began to slow wine.
- "Yes! Yes! Yes! Wuh all you want is some girls now."
Yes, all he wanted was girls. He did voice his concern.
So I'd like to thank our sponsors: Mackeson, the makers of oats and barley, the makers of brandy, our wardrobe designers and of course our inefficient bus system because without you we would not have a story like this.
Judging from the title you can guess with much certainty what happened to me this week. Operation: Christmas Ham - The Undo Version has restarted (and yes it nearly killed me). Despite the tight chest, back and arms I can still stretch when I yawn and not cry like a baby from the pain. I can touch my toes, hey! I can see my toes when I look down! (that's always a good sign). Sadly though, I still fit the mold of "Skeletal Study" as all but four of my ribs are now visible. You may be wondering by now what that all that Christmas food really did to me. Well it sure didn't make me fat but it did make me lazy. So I can still feel the negative effects of the beginners exercise programme.
I had an interesting week but one of the things which I remember was when I caught the bus...*shock*...and...*awe*. On Saturday, I went to a youth convention. Since our car broke down I had to catch the bus to town. There were three people waiting for the bus: an old man, an old woman and a male youth. As I waited for the bus to come I overheard the old man and the old lady talking about some of their old friends. (Actually I heard the word "girls" and decided to sign into the conversation). I listened as the conversation went on until the old woman reported the obituaries. To which the man replied, "I'm 79." By then I had stopped listening and fully immersed myself into their convo.
The man wore khaki slacks with a crease that could cut steel, white sneakers and a black leather belt. His(90's hip-hop styled) polo was not only pressed smooth as ice but was neatly tucked into his pants. He wore a V-Tech cap and brown shades - maybe his eyes were too strong a lure for the unsuspecting, or even suspecting, female to gaze into. He had more swag than Steve Jobs has mac. Girls wanted him, men wanted to be like him. His secret? "I drink Mackeson and eat oats and barley and take a shot of brandy every now and again."
The old lady was in disbelief that the man was really 79 because he "look good for [he] age." And the conversation ensued:
- "Girl I know I look good but I can also do this..." The man began to raise his left foot.
- "Yes! Yes!" the lady encouraged.
- "But not only that. I can do this..." and the man raised his right foot. Now if the lady was young she would have been hopping with excitement like a pre-teen standing in Justing Beiber's presence (the ones with the strength to stand) but she simply said, "Yes! Yes!" and bounced.
- "But not only can I do that. I can do this..." Placing his arms akimbo, he bent down and began to slow wine.
- "Yes! Yes! Yes! Wuh all you want is some girls now."
Yes, all he wanted was girls. He did voice his concern.
So I'd like to thank our sponsors: Mackeson, the makers of oats and barley, the makers of brandy, our wardrobe designers and of course our inefficient bus system because without you we would not have a story like this.
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