Sunday, 28 February 2016

Resolution Update :: 50 Poems in 50 days, what I learned from it + my secret periscope event!

It's been really hard writing poetry everyday for the last two months. So difficult in fact, that I found myself behind on so many occasions I became daunted I wanted to give up.

Until I got to 50. That's right. Fifty poems in fifty days.

That accomplishment  brought home yet again discomfort of growth. Well, I realised it again I suppose. Difficulty is a sedative for the good times isn't it?

Is every single poem worth hearing? No, absolutely not. Some of them are ridiculous and embarrassing. They make me question my talent, they make me modest and unsure  Let us consider the other side of the coin too. Do I feel like I am learning and growing in my craft every single time I commit myself to staying focused and on path with my goal? 

Without a doubt.

The lessons I have most readily learned from this experience are just how difficult habits are to break. Usually, I write much longer poetry, this time I have challenged myself to write much shorter, biting pieces so that I can concentrate more of my time writing prose. This has been one of the most difficult tasks I've ever set for myself. My mind, heart and hands are so used to working together in one synchronised way to create content that is of a particular length that they would kind of just get together and do it without my permission. Before I knew it, my words were bleed off the page and I was writing in the margins!

Now this wasn't a bad thing. It just wasn't my goal. So, it became a distraction to my success.

Why am I doing this? To vary my art, to push out of and eventually past my comfort zone. To commit to my word and to get to know a side of writer self I do not yet know.

It's worth it. It's hard, it's tiring, it's frustrating but the victory is worth it. I hear that's usually the case for most things in life.

There also came a time when I had to sit back and evaluate my successes and failures as it has to do with this challenge. Was it worth it to hold myself to writing a poem every single day with no relenting for sickness, pain or occupation when they were realities of my life. These things happened and when they did they caused me to be so upset if I didn't achieve that one little poem I didn't want to continue...for what, pride? No.

I am no longer in a place in my writing journey where I do not know when I can push past mediocre and can do better. So writing a sloppy poem that could barely pass for poetic prose wasn't going to cut it and be called success. Not for me.

So I changed to conversation. I'm going to try to write a poem everyday this year but if I miss a day, I wont hate myself or brand myself a failure. I am giving myself permission to change my mind. A right that, society has fought long and hard to convince us we no longer own. I am going to make sure that at the end of this year I have just as many poems as there are days in this year. I am not gong to use this as an excuse to write seven poems in one day, that's really hard by the way don't ask how i know, I will instead use it as an allowance to for real life and to choose truth over the temptation to choose completion. This time, I will acknowledge that done can be better than perfect.

Which is why I'm letting you in on a little secret, I'm taking my poetry challenge on the road! Digitally that is....This March I'm going to be sharing my daily poetry with you, short as they are, unfiltered and unedited as they are, with YOU on periscope. Follow along with me LIVE as I practice keeping this goal alive and real on periscope everyday in March! My handle on there is: sandalsnsunnies

For the longest time I've hated that phrase, done is better than perfect, how do you feel about it?

Peace. Love. Authenticity.

Saturday, 20 February 2016

Musing :: Mind : Tea Cup Stories.

On an early Saturday morning in February, long past the time the market vendors have made the majority of their sales. When the only people still asleep are the begrudging, ached, working class who cannot bare to move and acknowledge another morning. Who whisper prayers of gratitude to their pillows for their presence. Just past breakfast and a little before 8:30, a small child is screaming obscenities in the valleys of my neighbourhood.

Sitting there, I almost envy his vivacity...

Granted, I've never entertained the opportunity to scream about a kinsfolk's mother's coitus engaging orifice so...practice makes perfect I guess, for him it certainly seems to ring true. For him, his words are probably more easy to say than please or thank you and one hundred percent easier to mean.

This all culminated at the bottom of the hill because they were running down it and one started yelling with much accusation and sadistic pleasure in his tone. He started on about how the one that ate the sausages from the fridge, whoever they were that sad soul, was 'gonna get it' upon returning home. Now that is, from whatever errand turned adventurous, boyhood escapade they had likely just been on.

It's a bit of a valley so UP floats the avalanche of obscenities he, this messenger of pain, was now being wreck with in return.

The sound of their hard flip flops hitting concrete strip still in my ear. It's a sound country folk know well, possibly anywhere. Those slippers are made of a heard, think plastic. They are white and blue and have outlived generations, carrying with them stories of long journeys, both volunteered and mandatory that they will always keep secret because nobody knows that they know where and when those feet have been.

I hear it all the time but especially at dusk, when tired but excited with hearts full of play, children scamper home before the street lights come on. Trying to get ahead of it because then their people will stick head out windows or over banisters, then they will scream for the return of these children to the safety of home. They will insist on it in a way that will bring shame to anyone's street credit. They will demand it before the dangers of darkness cover them like sheets  and smother their unique faces in silence and silhouettes of night.

I hear all of this while I sip tea in the veranda, sitting betwixt mother and grandmother. The memory of the black ram goat; big and tall as a well fed, well bred German shepherd,  leading them down the hill instead of vice versa is still making me smirk. I run one finger slowly, over the rim of my cup. My tea is still too hot to drink so I am tasting the subtle sweetness of this moment instead.

You wouldn't know all this of the story though from looking at the picture I took of my tea cup.

You gotta love country living dontcha?

Wednesday, 10 February 2016

Is LOVE worth it?

So Valentines Day is here and something that was brought to my attention was the lingering question by people from multiple and different walks  of life, all asking  so what's all the fuss about anyway?
One of my favourite lingerie brands shared a very interesting infographic with me that showcased some research they did into the matter. This is something I don't talk about but guys i confess, some women like shoes, my guilty pleasure is some dandy delicates ;) I haven't had the opportunity to personally try their product yet but I look forward to it greatly. The objective of this research they conducted was to evaluate the thoughts of men verses woman on the matter of valentines day. Now I must say I found this very interesting. I always find it a fascinating task looking into how men and when view things differently, it can teach us so much about humanity and getting along.

These are the points that stuck out most to me:
  • A staggering amount of men would rather netflix and chill than make fancy plans.  
  • Most men expect to have to plan the event. 
  • Most men intend to buy flowers while 
  • Women intend to get something 'memorable' for their significant other.
  • Most people don't intend to spend more than 25 dollars on Vday and that's coming from both sexes.
  • Eveyone expects to 'get lucky' that day (i giggled because I'm an adult.)

I realise my expectations and plans for valentines day continue to grow and change as I do every year. In earlier years I simply longed for something, then I did the things; I had the nights of flowers and chilling and I had the nights of a fancy dinner. Every time it comes around I realise that I want something different, sometimes I want a casual experience, sometimes I want a fancy one.

In my socio linguistics class we're talking about effective communication and the entire concept is changing my life let me tell you. These points above I highlighted because they are the ones that are most glaring to me,

For instance, I am a woman who would also rather chill inside with a nice meal most times. I don't like getting flowers unless they are artificial, in the form of a potted plant or are some quirky spin on the event like a giant paper flower or a rose broach or necklace. I admit it, I take gift giving very seriously, I've never given a 'lazy' gift in my life. I put immense thought into gift giving and I don't and vehemently dispose doing things because everyone else is doing it.

Naturally, I felt compelled to test these results and had to conduct some research of my own. Turns out everything is pretty true to form. Most of the men I spoke to couldn't care less about the event and resigned them self to making some kind of effort only if their spouse wanted them to so do.

Many of the women likewise did not care much and with the recent popularity of the #galentinesday movement they don't much have to now do they?

I've learned my personality just doesn't want to be bored with the stereo typical but that what is stereo typed will never stop me from doing and loving the things that I love.

The perfect valentines day for me is doing something simple while well dressed that makes me happy. Something only slightly different from the norm but with some one I treasure having in my life.  I'm so easily pleased I think pizza, wine and the ocean would make me quite happy.

Also, since I love love love daisies (my favourite) ferrero rouche (one of my favourites) and heart shaped jewellery, (especially the minimalist kind) it's very simple for me to be a content happy gal.

You see the way I see it, love is worth it, the effort. I'm so glad that we were gifted the ability to love each other in this world. I'm so glad that love is so much more than roses and fancy restaurant dinners, that it is laughter and motivation and believing and aspiring to greatness that celebrating on valentines day, whether with a spouse or just the people in your life that you do love, its worth it.

Now I don't mean forcing the hand of either party to foot a bill more expensive because it comes on red scented paper, no. It's worth a little fuss, it's worth thinking fondly on a remixed outfit or even a new one if it's within your means. Its worth smiling at the red colour and the hearts. Its worth it because happiness is free.

The world has an overflow of everything else, far be it for me to be the one to decide it should have less love because past pain makes me squeamish. I wont do it. I will scream the importance of love to the roof tops always because it is more than kisses. It is safety, truth and sacrifice and it is worth it.

Happy day to all who have a heart capable of loving and and receiving love.

Peace. Love. Worthwhile Relationships

Monday, 8 February 2016

Musing Style :: Respect the Nutmeg

My country celebrated Independence day on the seventh. Every Friday before the seventh has been unofficially named 'National Colours Day' when nationals get dressed in and just generally put on shoe all the colours of our flag.

I had work though and even though we got away with keeping it a little casual I still felt I needed to make sure looked a bit corporate too. You cant see it  well because of my vest but my shirt it says Spice Isle 473 on it and also gives a nod to our national dish a little lower down.

What a nutemeg looks like while on the tree, this one has just opened and will be picked soon

On national colours day our country is brighter and if possible, more spectacular than usual. The streets are bathed in red, gold and green. Our sky line is blown with row after row of buntings in the national colours and our children....oh our beautiful children are dressed in the most unique frocks, in a multitude of styles! All showing of their colours.

My country is refereed to as the Spice Isle for we are rich with spices and nutmeg happens to be one of those for which we are well known. We adopted the phrase 'respect the nutmeg' after the last Olympic games when our national champion  (yes we call him that, we also call him 'The Jaguar' we are a proud people.) Kirani James won first place in the 400 meter relay race. Back then the announcers could barely pronounce our name, they didn't kno w how to say it because they'd barely heard of us. Respect the nutmeg means though we are little, we are spicy, observe us well for we are prestigious and worth much.

At least seventy percent of people are likely eating our national dish on national colours day. Often they are cooking it in the schools and selling it in the shops. It is everywhere, whether they are cooking it themselves or they are benefiting from the wealth of good cheer and the hearty sense of sharing and caring for which my country is well known. People are eating food that day that is a national symbol of how mixed up our history is but how resistant we are and hope we have continued to fight to prosper, with mother earth at our side.

There are marches in the streets, teachers and pupils all singing songs of national pride. On that day we are eating, we are singing, we are looking very pretty and we loving on we country.

One day, I hope that you will see it.

Peace. Love. #RespectTheNutmeg

Sunday, 7 February 2016

Christmas Gifts of 2015 Haul Video

Hey guys!

So here we are and I am only now finally able to get this post up! I love making those videos but oi vey do they love to trouble me.

I figured aside from the video I'd still give you a little glimpse at some of the festivities in picture form. It was a wonderful gift exchanging Christmas, just another one that reminded me that giving to your loved one is a gift that can never be replaced or perhaps ever accurately expressed in words. How splendid it is to share time with others who have been listening to you all this time. Who take time and hard earned money to show us in a tangible way (which they they are not obligated to do) that they care.

Some of the things shown above are a tardis beanie, a stylus for the paper app, A large hat in one of my favourite colours, a hand painted bag which is huge and if you give me a chance I will carry everywhere and a hand painted wine glass with a well known Doctor Who reference.

This is just a glimpse at one of the gifts I got one of my friends for Christmas as honestly I didn't take pictures of those and only happened to get a picture of this between nail painting and so on. Said nail paint can be seen in the video below also.

Anyway with no further ado I hope you enjoy my very weird little video that will give you a glance at some of the gifts I didn't mention here. Including what I got for myself. A self care must I think.

Also, can I just say, I SINCERELY apologise for all the strange sounds I apparently make with my mouth.

Do you buy yourself a gift for Christmas?

Peace. Love. Joy!

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