Ah finally watched Brokeback Mountain -- very attentively. It's well-made: exceptional acting, smooth cinematography, fluent controversy in de story -- it's a lot more than de 'butt' of 'happy' jokes; it's influential.
1. Heath is BRAVE. Jake is BRAVE. (Too much to write about their talent.)
2. Hathaway's no longer typecast.
3. Michelle (Alma) is a young Meryl -- talented, effortless.
4. They've all forever changed de homo kinda image, impactin' pop culture.
What does de movie seek to achieve (motive, objective, agenda)? Am not certain. It's a heavyweight though.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Thanksgiving
Thanksgivin' holidays are here again. They're a nice likkle nudge to remind us to thank God for his mercies unto us. After seein' de way a J'can political 'supporter' injured a J'can TV reporter (in his eye, no less, callin' de reporter a "Labourite"), am acknowledgin' that mi country still has a far way to go, but am still thankful for God's grace to us -- to all de world, as a serious comedian put it: "God bless the world." May this holiday find you happy thru bein' thankful to God. God bless Jamaica, de Caribbean. God bless Africa. God bless America (North & South) -- "God bless the world." Thank you, God, for all your blessings to us, an' above all, thank God for Jesus!
Lord, let me not assess de 'fairness' of de world by lookin' for greater sorrow in others than in myself -- rather, let me see 'fairness' in peace and love. Let me observe evil and hate as unfair, an' bein' moved by God's holy spirit, let me always oppose those.
Lord, let me not assess de 'fairness' of de world by lookin' for greater sorrow in others than in myself -- rather, let me see 'fairness' in peace and love. Let me observe evil and hate as unfair, an' bein' moved by God's holy spirit, let me always oppose those.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Poem-pourri
Whose woods these are, I think I know:
Jabberwock
Lived in a pretty how town,
Up so floating many bells down
The still lake of Semmerwater
Under the still skies.
With no surprise to any happy flower
A dainty foot donkey that I ride
beheads it, in accidental power.
The blonde Assassin passes on
Up in de hills, where the streams are cool
An mullet and janga swim in de pool,
So rested he, by the Tumtum tree.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near,
I wish you were here, dear
I wish you were here
I wish you sat on the sofa and I sat near
On the chair
The handkerchief could be yours, mine the tear
Quoth the raven, Nevermore.
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run
Maybe it sags like a heavy load
Or does it explode?
Upon a midnight dreary, woods are lovely dark and deep
But I have promises to keep
And miles to go before I sleep.
Jabberwock
Lived in a pretty how town,
Up so floating many bells down
The still lake of Semmerwater
Under the still skies.
With no surprise to any happy flower
A dainty foot donkey that I ride
beheads it, in accidental power.
The blonde Assassin passes on
Up in de hills, where the streams are cool
An mullet and janga swim in de pool,
So rested he, by the Tumtum tree.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near,
I wish you were here, dear
I wish you were here
I wish you sat on the sofa and I sat near
On the chair
The handkerchief could be yours, mine the tear
Quoth the raven, Nevermore.
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run
Maybe it sags like a heavy load
Or does it explode?
Upon a midnight dreary, woods are lovely dark and deep
But I have promises to keep
And miles to go before I sleep.
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Can't Be Ungrateful to God
We can't be ungrateful to God, coulda never ever be ungrateful to God.
A pet peeve of mine has always been de annoyin' questions of friends & relatives who constantly asked my husband an' me about our family plannin'. Sounds intrusive? That's what it was when they'd ask, "So what yu waitin' for? When yu goin' to have another baby?"
We sometimes had to snap at people or otherwise be a bit harsh to get them to stop de inquisition. They didn't understand. Then we'd prob'ly feel crummy for havin' shut down folk who meant no harm.
Anyway, God is good, great, and in His generous divinity, a few months ago, He answered de many late-night prayers of my husband an' me. Thanks be to God for our baby.
(It's been a lengthy recovery that included many changes for us, including relocation, an' ah wasn't keen on postin' endless complaints, so ah kept quiet on de topic. However, this experience -- this gift -- is too precious to go undocumented. Especially considerin' our recent escapades of suitin' him up like Santa, an' like a Teletubby. It's been joyous, so ah sharin'.)
Anyway, back to baby. I'm always tellin' him how delicious he is, an' mi top 3 reasons for not gobblin' him up:
3. His dad & his brother would B sad.
2. Ah luv him 2 much.
1. Ah got no hot sauce:)
God is good.
A pet peeve of mine has always been de annoyin' questions of friends & relatives who constantly asked my husband an' me about our family plannin'. Sounds intrusive? That's what it was when they'd ask, "So what yu waitin' for? When yu goin' to have another baby?"
We sometimes had to snap at people or otherwise be a bit harsh to get them to stop de inquisition. They didn't understand. Then we'd prob'ly feel crummy for havin' shut down folk who meant no harm.
Anyway, God is good, great, and in His generous divinity, a few months ago, He answered de many late-night prayers of my husband an' me. Thanks be to God for our baby.
(It's been a lengthy recovery that included many changes for us, including relocation, an' ah wasn't keen on postin' endless complaints, so ah kept quiet on de topic. However, this experience -- this gift -- is too precious to go undocumented. Especially considerin' our recent escapades of suitin' him up like Santa, an' like a Teletubby. It's been joyous, so ah sharin'.)
Anyway, back to baby. I'm always tellin' him how delicious he is, an' mi top 3 reasons for not gobblin' him up:
3. His dad & his brother would B sad.
2. Ah luv him 2 much.
1. Ah got no hot sauce:)
God is good.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Another Year wid mi Fierce Brosnan
At first glance, mi cousin said, "Don't him remind yu a 'Remintan' Steele?"
I said, "Hmm, not really. Pierce more mawga." (Like mi know Pierce!)
Donkey years later, U're still Fierce, mi bootleg Pierce. (De name's Bond, Jamrock Bond)
Hi, darlin' dear, sweetie pie, pineapple (song)
Here's lookin' forward to 15 more, if God allows.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Environment & U
Leon just blogged about global warming, so bein' friendly to de environment, here's mi 2 cents:
We all luv de yummy food that some restaurants sell, but avoid de styrofoam if yu can. It contains dioxins (which are known carcinogens). Consider it, "Wouldja like dioxins wit dat?" De environment can't break down styrofoam into earth-friendly fossil, so it's not doin' Mother Earth any favours either. Dioxins especially seep into fatty food, so if you buy soup or porridge or gravy-laden meals in styrofoam, U just got a free order of dioxins -- does it go well with your oxtail and rice & peas? Not really ... not at all.
We all luv de yummy food that some restaurants sell, but avoid de styrofoam if yu can. It contains dioxins (which are known carcinogens). Consider it, "Wouldja like dioxins wit dat?" De environment can't break down styrofoam into earth-friendly fossil, so it's not doin' Mother Earth any favours either. Dioxins especially seep into fatty food, so if you buy soup or porridge or gravy-laden meals in styrofoam, U just got a free order of dioxins -- does it go well with your oxtail and rice & peas? Not really ... not at all.
Friday, October 05, 2007
"Secrets" of Life
In listenin' to de gospel station, ah heard de followin' simple yet profound statement: "Your Dearest Wish Is the Flip-side of Your Worst Fear." (That entire series is aimed at helpin' us to fulfill life's purpose, to glorify God.)
Examples:
If your dearest wish is wealth, your worst fear is poverty. Life lesson: temperance
If your worst fear is rejection, your dearest wish is acceptance. Life lesson: self-acceptance.
If your worst fear is starvation, yu too greedy:)
Examples:
If your dearest wish is wealth, your worst fear is poverty. Life lesson: temperance
If your worst fear is rejection, your dearest wish is acceptance. Life lesson: self-acceptance.
If your worst fear is starvation, yu too greedy:)
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
Seventies -- The End
I saw Pete for the first time when I was introduced to Auntie Leigh. He was a confused 19 year old surreptitiously trying to engage a (basic-school-level) 3-year-old child in continuous conversation. All I recall of that was that I liked his bright-red track top so much that he let me try it on and wear it, sleeves drooping way beyond my arms. (Unlike Fawn, who proclaimed to every earthly molecule the injustice of losing her fabulous high school popularity, and having to get her GCE and JSC passes through evening classes because of pregnancy by Pete; he kept his woes to himself. She felt her family had rejected her in favour of her own child. No one knew Pete's perceptions of his family's reaction.)
I next encountered Pete when I went to Auntie Leigh's a year or two later to meet and spend time with my father. I heard music, and peering into Auntie Leigh's dimly-lit family room, I saw Pete sitting at the piano. "Hullo," he said. I went over to him, and he patted the bench for me to sit beside him. I presumed he was waiting for his own dad. He was his quiet self, not clumsily constructing conversation with a kindergartener. His helper stood by the door, keenly watching us for a moment, then she shrugged and left. He closed the door. "Tell me a song to play," he said. And soon he was pounding out Stevie Wonder's then current album at my request, while I danced around the room. He stood and danced while he played, rocking and bopping his head. We both bellowed songs, me mutilating the lyrics confidently. Auntie Leigh arrived and called a jarring halt to our fun. She asked what the noise was in aid of, she asked if I'd gotten anything to eat, she said she was telling him for the hundredth time to cut his hair. Then he pushed her out and locked the door. He took a rubber band from a desk drawer, and pulled his hair back into an afro-puff "ponytail."
Behind the mess of hair, his forehead was a map of scars.
"That's why yu won't cut yu hair?" I asked.
"No," he said matter-of-factly, "Ah just don't want mi hair to hurt or bleed."
"Oh," I answered, and tried to process that. My grammy had cut my hair the summer before, because it was thick and time-consuming for her to wash it and detangle it. But my hair hadn't hurt or bled. It had all just looked dead on the floor, cut off from its life source. I thought maybe that's what he meant by hurt. "I kinda understand," I said.
Then we went to the window and looked at daylight through a telescope. I told him I liked looking through things, and he lit up. "Ah have something for yu!" he gushed, "I'm so forgetful."
"Is a Viewmaster?!" I guessed.
"No, this." And he handed me a knapsack with a little bright-red tracksuit. "Put it on," he said. "I'm goin' to put on mine that you liked." I was thrilled.
His helper followed him back into the room after he'd changed. He shooed her away, and as soon as her footsteps faded into the kitchen, he hoisted me through the window. In matching tracksuits we ran 'round the corner, down Stanton Terrace, and were soon tearing across Lady Musgrave road to screeching tyres and screaming horns.
"We look like twins," he said, looking at our identical attire. "People must be wondering if we're twins." I smiled at that. "Yup," I agreed; I didn't mind having a twin who could dance like Michael jackson, and he could.
His dad's car rounded us up, and took us back to Auntie Leigh, who announced that he was endangering me, and that she was sending me home for my own safety. He argued; he beat his head against the grill until his forehead bled. His father yanked him away from the verandah and dragged him inside, while neighbours gawked. Auntie Leigh's relative was a doctor who lived a few houses away. Discreetly, he tended Pete, and whispered about Pete's needing to return to England, and oh, what embarrassment, with those gossips outside feigning concern then calling Pete "Mad-eeks" behind his back.
I told Auntie Leigh I couldn't leave yet, that I had to meet my father, that I had to spend even a little time with my father.
"Then who yu think yu spend de whole day wid?" she asked in her flat Chiney voice.
!!
I next encountered Pete when I went to Auntie Leigh's a year or two later to meet and spend time with my father. I heard music, and peering into Auntie Leigh's dimly-lit family room, I saw Pete sitting at the piano. "Hullo," he said. I went over to him, and he patted the bench for me to sit beside him. I presumed he was waiting for his own dad. He was his quiet self, not clumsily constructing conversation with a kindergartener. His helper stood by the door, keenly watching us for a moment, then she shrugged and left. He closed the door. "Tell me a song to play," he said. And soon he was pounding out Stevie Wonder's then current album at my request, while I danced around the room. He stood and danced while he played, rocking and bopping his head. We both bellowed songs, me mutilating the lyrics confidently. Auntie Leigh arrived and called a jarring halt to our fun. She asked what the noise was in aid of, she asked if I'd gotten anything to eat, she said she was telling him for the hundredth time to cut his hair. Then he pushed her out and locked the door. He took a rubber band from a desk drawer, and pulled his hair back into an afro-puff "ponytail."
Behind the mess of hair, his forehead was a map of scars.
"That's why yu won't cut yu hair?" I asked.
"No," he said matter-of-factly, "Ah just don't want mi hair to hurt or bleed."
"Oh," I answered, and tried to process that. My grammy had cut my hair the summer before, because it was thick and time-consuming for her to wash it and detangle it. But my hair hadn't hurt or bled. It had all just looked dead on the floor, cut off from its life source. I thought maybe that's what he meant by hurt. "I kinda understand," I said.
Then we went to the window and looked at daylight through a telescope. I told him I liked looking through things, and he lit up. "Ah have something for yu!" he gushed, "I'm so forgetful."
"Is a Viewmaster?!" I guessed.
"No, this." And he handed me a knapsack with a little bright-red tracksuit. "Put it on," he said. "I'm goin' to put on mine that you liked." I was thrilled.
His helper followed him back into the room after he'd changed. He shooed her away, and as soon as her footsteps faded into the kitchen, he hoisted me through the window. In matching tracksuits we ran 'round the corner, down Stanton Terrace, and were soon tearing across Lady Musgrave road to screeching tyres and screaming horns.
"We look like twins," he said, looking at our identical attire. "People must be wondering if we're twins." I smiled at that. "Yup," I agreed; I didn't mind having a twin who could dance like Michael jackson, and he could.
His dad's car rounded us up, and took us back to Auntie Leigh, who announced that he was endangering me, and that she was sending me home for my own safety. He argued; he beat his head against the grill until his forehead bled. His father yanked him away from the verandah and dragged him inside, while neighbours gawked. Auntie Leigh's relative was a doctor who lived a few houses away. Discreetly, he tended Pete, and whispered about Pete's needing to return to England, and oh, what embarrassment, with those gossips outside feigning concern then calling Pete "Mad-eeks" behind his back.
I told Auntie Leigh I couldn't leave yet, that I had to meet my father, that I had to spend even a little time with my father.
"Then who yu think yu spend de whole day wid?" she asked in her flat Chiney voice.
!!
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Seventies
She started with his cousin.
He and his cousin shared a birthday, so logically they shared a sweet sixteen party. Unlike him, the cousin wasn't touted to have a future-million-dollar brilliance. The cousins looked astonishingly alike. However, where his cousin sported his looks like an effortlessly suave suit, Pete was awkward wearing his looks like super-starchy clothes. But. Pete's Chiney mother was proud of her protege who'd always been an undeniably gifted child. His father, a stern black man, was conspicuously quiet on the topic of his bright son.
Fifteen-year-old Fawn flirted her best PamGrier-esque hairdo to the birthday party, and gave herself the gift of Pete, throwing the cousin back into the sea -- she really wasn't fond of small-fry prospects.
Pete was Fawn's new "settle." Problem was, unlike the cousin, Pete could be counted on to do things. Things like wearing a Manley-type bush jacket and flood-water-high gaberdine pants with buckle shoes outshone only by his greased-flat hair, to a Plus-X bash where everyone else wore bell-bottoms, trendy platform shoes, and fluffy afro. Still, she took his Sunday-best disco gear in stride; after all, in any number of years, when he was more cashy than all the crowd, who'd get the last laugh? Besides, she was trying to rekindle the cousin's interest on the side.
Pete's family was unaware of what was happening. Only the helper heard the goings-on in the heretofore virginal Pete's room whenever his parents were out. And the helper knew better than to be the bearer of bad news to her employers. She did however tell Fawn of Pete's illness that had started when his closest brother drowned a few years before. Pete was fine as long as he took his meds, she said, but Fawn shouldn't toy with his emotions. "Him can't tek it," the helper told her, "Him can't tek it." The cousin confirmed the helper's assertion.
Fawn was abased.
But worse, Fawn was pregnant.
He and his cousin shared a birthday, so logically they shared a sweet sixteen party. Unlike him, the cousin wasn't touted to have a future-million-dollar brilliance. The cousins looked astonishingly alike. However, where his cousin sported his looks like an effortlessly suave suit, Pete was awkward wearing his looks like super-starchy clothes. But. Pete's Chiney mother was proud of her protege who'd always been an undeniably gifted child. His father, a stern black man, was conspicuously quiet on the topic of his bright son.
Fifteen-year-old Fawn flirted her best PamGrier-esque hairdo to the birthday party, and gave herself the gift of Pete, throwing the cousin back into the sea -- she really wasn't fond of small-fry prospects.
Pete was Fawn's new "settle." Problem was, unlike the cousin, Pete could be counted on to do things. Things like wearing a Manley-type bush jacket and flood-water-high gaberdine pants with buckle shoes outshone only by his greased-flat hair, to a Plus-X bash where everyone else wore bell-bottoms, trendy platform shoes, and fluffy afro. Still, she took his Sunday-best disco gear in stride; after all, in any number of years, when he was more cashy than all the crowd, who'd get the last laugh? Besides, she was trying to rekindle the cousin's interest on the side.
Pete's family was unaware of what was happening. Only the helper heard the goings-on in the heretofore virginal Pete's room whenever his parents were out. And the helper knew better than to be the bearer of bad news to her employers. She did however tell Fawn of Pete's illness that had started when his closest brother drowned a few years before. Pete was fine as long as he took his meds, she said, but Fawn shouldn't toy with his emotions. "Him can't tek it," the helper told her, "Him can't tek it." The cousin confirmed the helper's assertion.
Fawn was abased.
But worse, Fawn was pregnant.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Women -- Especially over 30
Planning on having a baby? Especially, if it's your first:
1. Create a birth plan (e.g., If U don't want students participating in your delivery, say so!)
2. Grill your doctor like a cheese sandwich to see which MD is most likely to stick to de plan.
3. Avoid their usual moneymaking tricks: e.g., they request extended foetal monitoring -- try to send you to a delivery room early -- request last-minute ultrasounds: all of that "just because."
4. They make way more $ from caesarean surgery (affectionately called c-sections, like Condoleeza's now affectionately called 'Condi' -- don't de media know how to sell stuff!) Vaginal delivery means less $ money to them. More money is often their prime objective.
5. Epidurals (especially catheter as opposed to injection) can immobilize and disorient you at a time when you NEED to be alert, and make it difficult to push -- then what? Caesarean section!
6. Do you want to feel old, depressed, violated, and generally unhealthy? If yes, disregard my warning. If no, beware, beware, beware, beware.
Surgery & anaesthesia are no walk in the park. This is serious.
1. Create a birth plan (e.g., If U don't want students participating in your delivery, say so!)
2. Grill your doctor like a cheese sandwich to see which MD is most likely to stick to de plan.
3. Avoid their usual moneymaking tricks: e.g., they request extended foetal monitoring -- try to send you to a delivery room early -- request last-minute ultrasounds: all of that "just because."
4. They make way more $ from caesarean surgery (affectionately called c-sections, like Condoleeza's now affectionately called 'Condi' -- don't de media know how to sell stuff!) Vaginal delivery means less $ money to them. More money is often their prime objective.
5. Epidurals (especially catheter as opposed to injection) can immobilize and disorient you at a time when you NEED to be alert, and make it difficult to push -- then what? Caesarean section!
6. Do you want to feel old, depressed, violated, and generally unhealthy? If yes, disregard my warning. If no, beware, beware, beware, beware.
Surgery & anaesthesia are no walk in the park. This is serious.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Hail to Everybody
Hail to all of you bloggers. Hope you're all doing fine, as I am at this point. Thank God.
So many changes -- blogger married to google now!
Hope you all havin' a ball. Piggy luvs ya!
So many changes -- blogger married to google now!
Hope you all havin' a ball. Piggy luvs ya!
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Election?
J'can media seem to be hintin' that election might happen early this year -- possibly before Cricket. Hmm, could it be, could it be, could it be so? Commissioner said it's likely to be quite violent -- don't doubt him -- police he oversees statin' figures of about 40 murders so far. Bruce (opposition) seems kinda silent right now, Portia's side (gov't) currently somewhat loud, so there might be some substance to de speculation, but could it be, could it be, could it be so?
Friday, December 22, 2006
Merry Christmas Everybody!
Happy, jolly, yummy time of the year --
Merry Christmas & a Happy New Year to everybody who reads this!
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Bye, Neville
J.A. lost a media icon, family man, and pretty nice guy: Neville Willoughby. Years ago, "It's the Evening People Show with Neville --" No more. Observer said it was a road accident somewhere off Farewell Ave. (That road now means suppem more than walkin' mi cousin there in de '80s to visit mi cousin's best pal, Selema.) Strange, de name of that road, & de accident that will now make it memorable for so many. Rough holiday this for de Willoughbys. Farewell, Neville.
Drive safely, everybody. It's nuts on de road, nuts in de parkin' lots at de malls -- everywhere. Let's all drive safely.
Drive safely, everybody. It's nuts on de road, nuts in de parkin' lots at de malls -- everywhere. Let's all drive safely.
Monday, December 18, 2006
The Pursuit of Happyness
It's a pleasure to see a father showing his son a real-life example of the struggle to better himself and to be a buffer from life's harsh realities. His son will recognize the priceless benefits of that when he grows up & remembers what his dad went through." -- A review of Will Smith's new movie: The Pursuit of Happyness
Watch it
Watch it
Watch it
Watch it
It's more than worth de ticket-price.
Watch it
Watch it
Watch it
Watch it
It's more than worth de ticket-price.
Saturday, December 16, 2006
De Carol that Brought de Pork Some Christmas
Here's Your "STUPID" Sign! (Bill Engvall, Chorus sung to"Jingle Bells")
I took my son to the mall the other day to see Santa Claus
The woman in line behind me says, "Hey is that Santa Claus up there"?
I said "no ma'm, it's a Kenny Rodgers stunt double. Here's your sign!"
The other day I bought a wreath to go on our front door
As I was walking out the store a man stopped me and said
"Hey, are you going to hang that on your door?" I said:
"No sir, it's a Christmas toilet seat cover, got the idea from Martha Stewart"
(Chorus) Here's your sign, Here's your sign, Here's your STUPID sign
You acted dumb, so have some fun and wear your STUPID sign -- Oh!
Here's your sign, Here's your sign, Here's your STUPID sign
You lost your mind, so pay the fine and wear your STUPID sign
I hung the little Christmas lights on my house, the ones that blink on & off
My neighbour comes over and says
"Bill how do you get those to blink on and off like that?"
I said "I've got my son inside plugging and unplugging it,
-- plugging and unplugging it. Here's your sign!"
I took my family to buy a Christmas tree the other night
When we walked onto the lot this guy walked up to me and says
"Hey, y'all here to buy a Christmas tree?" I said,
"No sir, my son needs to go to the bathroom and these trees looked really inviting. Here's your sign!" (rep. Chorus)
Have no fear when you're spreading cheer during Christmas time
And finally my wife and I were in a grocery store the other day
And I heard a woman ask the clerk
"Do you know what time Midnight Mass starts on Christmas Eve?"
And in the holiday spririt I walked over and said "Here's your sign!"
(She earned it on her own!) Happy holidays everybody!
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Maybe Beta's not Better
What's up today?! Am findin' it dang near impossible to comment on blogs like Crankputz', Island Girl -- all de beta type blogs. We'll see . . .
Monday, December 11, 2006
Quick Review
This year's effort was nice -- more cooperation & participation this time (fewer self-proclaimed Jordans & more Pippens). Anyway, even as hubby geared up engineerin' early on, he pondered this year's music mix, but turns out we had energetic variety an' some blessed voices ministerin' to us all. What a praise & worship time! All praise & thanks to God. As de soloist sang: Whatsoever things are Godly, think on these things.
Thursday, December 07, 2006
5 Things
OK, so Stunner of de irie island photos has tagged me wid de "5 Things" meme, and am in an unusually "postly" mood right this minute, so here goes:
Here are 5 things U didn't know about me, de Melody Piggy Moppet:
-- Am compulsively private, but find that it makes people more likely to pry and be curious than they would be with someone who's less private and more willin' to share -- go figure.
-- Am not a fan o' gossip, & therefore have indulged in that extremely infrequently -- only when ah got ticked off at people pryin' an' decide to turn de tables on dem. Have found that many people luv gossip, an' therefore ah don't trust dem an' ah feel comfortable havin' very few friends.
-- Am not de gregarious type. Same way mi stay pon de blog until mi get accustomed to a blogger: am most likely to blog an' back off when ah meet blogs, thus givin' de other blogger a chance to reciprocate (which is kinda de only way for dem to quietly express, "Yeah, mi waan blog wid yu," or "No, mi naw really feel your blog perspectives.") It's a simple analogy to mi everyday approach to social life. Most 'fun time' interaction is wid mi husband & child -- am devoted to them. Want to always be there for them no matter what.
-- Have always been seriously attracted to mi husband (mutual attraction -- God is good). Anyway, he's aware of this and sometimes winks at me in a very knowing way in de midst of goin' about mundane things (while he's bucklin' his belt as he gets dressed for work, or even while we're in traffic waitin' for de light to change). This amuses him, 'cause am essentially a shy person, so de effect of this always momentarily "sends" me a bit.
-- Am admittedly somewhat old fashioned -- wha yu expect, mi grow wid mi granny! So much so, that de difference between casual & formal is ponytail or bun -- or maybe blue jeans versus black jeans. Of course, bein' old fashioned and excessively domestic doesn't mean not having aspirations -- ah do often consider goin' back to school for a doctorate (nutten to do wid mi journalism or business studies, a doctorate in suppem totally different that ah won't write on de blog right now.)
Awright, Stunner, that's it. Shared as much as ah could in that 5 things topic. Now, Jdid, U've been tagged.
Here are 5 things U didn't know about me, de Melody Piggy Moppet:
-- Am compulsively private, but find that it makes people more likely to pry and be curious than they would be with someone who's less private and more willin' to share -- go figure.
-- Am not a fan o' gossip, & therefore have indulged in that extremely infrequently -- only when ah got ticked off at people pryin' an' decide to turn de tables on dem. Have found that many people luv gossip, an' therefore ah don't trust dem an' ah feel comfortable havin' very few friends.
-- Am not de gregarious type. Same way mi stay pon de blog until mi get accustomed to a blogger: am most likely to blog an' back off when ah meet blogs, thus givin' de other blogger a chance to reciprocate (which is kinda de only way for dem to quietly express, "Yeah, mi waan blog wid yu," or "No, mi naw really feel your blog perspectives.") It's a simple analogy to mi everyday approach to social life. Most 'fun time' interaction is wid mi husband & child -- am devoted to them. Want to always be there for them no matter what.
-- Have always been seriously attracted to mi husband (mutual attraction -- God is good). Anyway, he's aware of this and sometimes winks at me in a very knowing way in de midst of goin' about mundane things (while he's bucklin' his belt as he gets dressed for work, or even while we're in traffic waitin' for de light to change). This amuses him, 'cause am essentially a shy person, so de effect of this always momentarily "sends" me a bit.
-- Am admittedly somewhat old fashioned -- wha yu expect, mi grow wid mi granny! So much so, that de difference between casual & formal is ponytail or bun -- or maybe blue jeans versus black jeans. Of course, bein' old fashioned and excessively domestic doesn't mean not having aspirations -- ah do often consider goin' back to school for a doctorate (nutten to do wid mi journalism or business studies, a doctorate in suppem totally different that ah won't write on de blog right now.)
Awright, Stunner, that's it. Shared as much as ah could in that 5 things topic. Now, Jdid, U've been tagged.
Not Quite Yet
In your mid-30s, people at church might start seein' U as a likely candidate to help counsel in women's ministry, so they nice U up for de women's retreat -- U can give good advice to younger sisters (late teens and twenties, who are single or just married). Not necessarily advisable.
What I've noticed:
* Some think because they're more experienced they know more about every-ting than U do. How can U help "to call any play," when they've been playin' de field an' sure they know de 'game' more than U?
* These retreats can seem like an unpleasant juvenile slumber party when U check de ratio of "younger" vs. "older."
* No matter how other counselors warn U, an' U research in advance an' feel sure de "younger" can't take U aback wid "hardcore" topics, there are always some who try to discomfit U wid graphic questions about de church's views on this or that. Maintained mi composure an' offered de followin' advice on de topic of someone wantin' to re-ignite de marital flame by doin' rectal whatever: "U just married recently, U shouldn't need to 're-ignite' nutten already, if U want to do suppem nice & spicy for your hubby, cook him suppem wid pepper in it, no need to get drastic an' start ruinin' your personal plumbin' just because of any-ting U read, saw, or heard."
* Not sure if "older" seem condescendin' to de "younger" but some "younger" can seem condescendin' when U advisin' them. U print out all kinda info from de centre for disease control & various websites (from ob-gyn to pastoral counsel site) an' is like dem nuh appreciate none o' your efforts to arrive at de sessions prepared to help dem.
* Parentin' is seen as a task that some definitely not eager to embrace.
* Some younger ladies there are really nice. They worry about "simpler" matters, stuff we've prob'ly all contemplated at some time or other, an' can relate to. E.g., a young lady was worried some folks countin' de months to know if she conceived before or after de marriage. Was quite forthright wid all o' dem. Told her how ages ago some folks said ah was just rushin' to wed so that ah could have sex -- de snide unspoken part was: "And that is if you two aren't already fornicatin'." (Sometimes older brothers & sisters in Christ put pressure on younger ones or even de newly converted -- thru gossip, etc. -- without even noticin' how they alienate people.)
* Memorable: Sister "E" and her empathetic advice to a lonely sister, to whom she's prob'ly now a mentor in general. Sister "E" says without rancour that she waits on the Lord since all will be done in His own good time. Almost in her 60s, she's got more maternal instincts than many, and cares for likkle boys an' girls like they were her own. Her advisee let others in on their discussion, which was good, considerin' de closed door nature of most o' these sessions.
* Am not yet necessarily 'fittin' de role (to counsel an' minister) to many who need it.
What I've noticed:
* Some think because they're more experienced they know more about every-ting than U do. How can U help "to call any play," when they've been playin' de field an' sure they know de 'game' more than U?
* These retreats can seem like an unpleasant juvenile slumber party when U check de ratio of "younger" vs. "older."
* No matter how other counselors warn U, an' U research in advance an' feel sure de "younger" can't take U aback wid "hardcore" topics, there are always some who try to discomfit U wid graphic questions about de church's views on this or that. Maintained mi composure an' offered de followin' advice on de topic of someone wantin' to re-ignite de marital flame by doin' rectal whatever: "U just married recently, U shouldn't need to 're-ignite' nutten already, if U want to do suppem nice & spicy for your hubby, cook him suppem wid pepper in it, no need to get drastic an' start ruinin' your personal plumbin' just because of any-ting U read, saw, or heard."
* Not sure if "older" seem condescendin' to de "younger" but some "younger" can seem condescendin' when U advisin' them. U print out all kinda info from de centre for disease control & various websites (from ob-gyn to pastoral counsel site) an' is like dem nuh appreciate none o' your efforts to arrive at de sessions prepared to help dem.
* Parentin' is seen as a task that some definitely not eager to embrace.
* Some younger ladies there are really nice. They worry about "simpler" matters, stuff we've prob'ly all contemplated at some time or other, an' can relate to. E.g., a young lady was worried some folks countin' de months to know if she conceived before or after de marriage. Was quite forthright wid all o' dem. Told her how ages ago some folks said ah was just rushin' to wed so that ah could have sex -- de snide unspoken part was: "And that is if you two aren't already fornicatin'." (Sometimes older brothers & sisters in Christ put pressure on younger ones or even de newly converted -- thru gossip, etc. -- without even noticin' how they alienate people.)
* Memorable: Sister "E" and her empathetic advice to a lonely sister, to whom she's prob'ly now a mentor in general. Sister "E" says without rancour that she waits on the Lord since all will be done in His own good time. Almost in her 60s, she's got more maternal instincts than many, and cares for likkle boys an' girls like they were her own. Her advisee let others in on their discussion, which was good, considerin' de closed door nature of most o' these sessions.
* Am not yet necessarily 'fittin' de role (to counsel an' minister) to many who need it.
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