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Monthly Archives: September 2011

Punishment


Do you remember being punished as a child by your parents? I do…sigh sometimes all too vividly. It is not that I was a bad or a problem child but I guess there were times when I seemed not to be listening to whatever they were saying or that my parents felt like in someway they weren’t getting through to me. Who knows!

Do I look like trouble?

I ask all of this because I was recently having a conversation with some friends and they were telling me stories of being punished. Some were put out of the house, locked out for hours, had to sleep by friends, some ran away and came home to find their bed gone (so they slept on the floor for a week) and one or two knelt on graters in the sun holding bricks (no I won’t call Kojak’s name). Those types of punishment I have never experienced.  I don’t have buried memories or flashbacks to say that can I fully relate to those experiences.  What I can relate to is “licks“. A pure unadulterated plain old fashioned cut-arse. 

The use of the pot spoon, swizzle stick, belts, the cane, piece of wood, a whip, hands, shoes among other implements may or may not have been tested on me. I assure you that due to my propensity for running away from licks some of these objects came into use. I was assured that some were used to determine their dexterity or the likelihood of me actually having a tearful reaction to them. After awhile, one can become immune/accustomed to certain methods of punishment and thereby rendering them ineffective.

Please don’t get me wrong, I was not abused in anyway (or at least so my therapist says but the sessions are new so we’ll see). I was a child that liked to explore and was occasionally rude (I stress on occasionally), so one can understand why a beating might occur. 

Now when it came to sharing licks, my mother wins hands down. There is no close competitor. I don’t think that there wasn’t a month that passed during the period say 1976 (Age 3) to 1986 (Age:13) that my mother didn’t have to scold me or ground me (ban me for the Trinis) for some minor infractions that may or may not have been committed. Back then (pre-CSI age), you didn’t require evidence to convict me, one just assumed I was guilty until the truth came out.

So what if I can’t explain why there is red sand under the living room couch or why that stray dog is in the house and refuses to come out from under the bed? So what if I didn’t hear you call me four times while I was in the road,( I know for certain that you didn’t see me roll my eyes)?  I am a good child.  I still don’t see what the problem is when I tell you that I lost the house key but was able to get into the house due to the help of some stranger you know nothing about (and have never met) and who would later serve 5 years for malicious wounding ( but no one saw that coming).

And Mom,  you are still to explain that time you beat me for no reason when you got home, because all I was doing was watching TV. So what if I was sweating profusely at the time…the house was hot.  That is no reason to beat me and utter the words “Just in case”.  I was innocent and still am to this day.

Sigh… these stories can go on and on but you get the point.  My mother and I had that kind of relationship.  If I was quiet for too long a period she would come looking for me. If she came home from work and found me sleeping, she would wake me up and I would be interrogated like a common criminal. “Stefan, what did you do? What did you do? If you tell me, I promise I won’t beat you.” Yeah right, the cut-tail didn’t come that day but a week later it would appear out of nowhere. That woman had patience like Job!!

Once, a new neighbour saw my mom and my older brother walking out the road and she stopped her and said “Oh this must be Stefan!”. To which my mother replied,” No, this is Anthony. Stefan is my younger son”. The lady was a little puzzled. She then said, “Oh I thought you only had one son. I keep hearing you call Stefan’s name all the time, I assumed it was only one child you had.” My mother still giggles about this to this day.  Do you see anything funny in that conversation? I don’t.

Anyway, while my mother experimented on ways to get through to my thick skull, my father on the other hand has only beaten me twice. Yes, folks, I’m not lying. TWICE!!. And I can recall both episodes like if it was yesterday.

Stefan Simmons & The Gasparee Caves
I was probably around 7 or 8 years old when my Dad took my brother and I “Down the Islands” with some of his co-workers and their kids. We spent the day having fun and exploring all parts of Gasparee Island. There was a section of the day when everyone had to go on a tour of the Gasparee Caves.  I did not want to go as I was having fun down at the jetty swimming. Like the good child I was, I tagged along and tried to be interested in what the people were saying. Somewhere in the Caves, I think I turned to another child suffering along with me, let’s call him Jason Elcock (any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely intentional) and told him I was bored. We somehow came up with the idea to abandon the tour and go back to the jetty. And we did.  And no one on the tour noticed.

Cut to like an hour later and there is my father shouting my name to the top of his voice as he scrambles down the stairs to where I was located. I looked up, smiled and asked, “What?”

I can’t recall what he was saying at the time but for what seemed like an eternity I was being spanked. Of course, to ensure that the beatings would be discontinued one must shed tears or express pain in some way otherwise the beatings will continue.  Trust me, at the age of 8, I wasn’t faking those tears.  That man hit me real hard that day. I still had a good time at the jetty though. In hindsight, I may see the slight error in my decision to return to the jetty.

STEUPS
For those of you who don’t know and think that sucking ones teeth means nothing, well you are WRONG!! I found out yesterday that “Steupsing” is loosely translated to “Look, kiss my ass yes!”.

Had I known this when I was 14, i would’ve saved myself from beating NUMBER TWO.

I love my grandmother. I miss her. You may have read many a story on her or on her sage advise to me. She is a gem. I can say that now easily, but back when I was a teenager, that woman was a pest!   She would harass me for no reason and had me doing weird chores just because I would be the only one in the house when she needed something.

Look, when i was 14, I read alot. I read EVERYTHING I could put my hands on especially if it was on a high shelf or hidden the back of wardrobe.  So whenever she lurked around the house for someone to do a task, there I was in some corner reading.  She never left me alone!

One day, I was going out into the yard to pretend to do something as my father was inside watching football and trying to coach the players on TV. Yep he was crazy like every other father and it was in those moments that I understood where I got my lack of athletic ability from but in his mind he is the ultimate sportsman.  So anyway, I make my way out to the porch and I am almost to the steps when Mudda says to me; “Lambkin where yuh going? Why yuh cyah keep yuh bun black backside in de house?”  Not liking the comment, I steupsed.  Then I found myself doing a pirouette on the top stair with my father standing next to me.

The man had rushed outside and slapped me so hard that I made a 360 degree turn.

I stared at him in shock and he looked at me with rage and uttered:

“Don’t you EVER suck your teeth at your grandmother EVER AGAIN!!  You hear me?”

“Why? Don’t you do it to?” was my smart-alec reply.

Have ever seen what happens to a chicken when it thinks it is about to die? Well if you haven’t let me tell you this…they sometimes poop seconds before it happens.  I am not saying the same thing happened to me that day but let’s just say that I swore my bladder was seconds away from failing me when I saw my grandmother come outside and yell at my father.

“What yuh hit de boy for? He right! You does steups at me too!”

My father stared at me for a little while longer and went back inside. I got a two hour lecture on my attitude and my need for defiance later that night.  I stopped listening after like 15 minutes or so because the TV was on behind him and he didn’t have a clue. I think to this day he believes that his speech may have turned me around on my path to being a good citizen.

——————–

Are these tales, one of caution? No they are not. And they are not signs of abuse either.  Children these days have it easy. They have no fear and therefore do as they please and wonder why they got things wrong in the process.  With no correction, one is left to figure stuff out for yourself and one lacks the sense to understand consequences for actions.

So I just dedicate this post to the people who have beaten me in my  childhood and who seem to think that it helped mould me into the neurotic, mild OCD ridden chubby person I am know today.

BTW:

Auntie Ingrid, I still haven’t forgiven you for beating me because I didn’t want to eat your sardine sandwiches. Yes I could’ve said  “No thank you” instead of ” Me aint eating that nastiness” but I still don’t think that putting a sweet cutarse on me was warranted.  It was a bit excessive.  It also seems that me telling my mother what you did had no effect and so I recognized that the bonds of sisterhood are strong.

I haven’t forgotten it. I’m just saying……..

 
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Posted by on September 30, 2011 in Emotions, Family, Humor, RANT, Uncategorized

 

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Papa Don’t Preach


(Excerpt from a conversation during a rehearsal for a play last night….

Director: So this weekend, we will be doing a photoshoot. I don’t know what day as yet but just be prepared.

Male Cast Member: If it is Saturday. I can’t make it. I have a Baby Shower

I turned and watched him with a puzzled look.

Director: Umm you have a play opening soon. Do you have to go to the shower?

MCM: Yes, it is important

Stefan: Why? What man goes to a Baby Shower?

MCM: Well it is sort of a big lime that will turn into a party

Stefan: I’m confused, why are there men at a Baby Shower?  Boy you don’t have to go

MCM: Well I do.

Female Cast Member: Is it your baby the shower is for?

MCM: Yes

My mouth opens and doesn’t close til I feel the dribble forming

 ————————————–

The reason this shocked me was the fact that this cast member is 18 years old and in Sixth Form!!  He calls his mother to pick him up from rehearsal every night. How does he have a baby? How does he get someone pregnant? If you have ever seen this person you would swear that they look like 15 but whatever the case, he obviously knew where to put it and what to do and is now going to become a father next month.

 

I stared at him a little while longer and he kept going “WHAT!” but I just couldn’t get over the fact that this teen had gotten someone pregnant and was being so non-chalant about it.

 

On further investigation (I pulled him aside and asked him his business – YES Ah FASS!), I discovered that he is fine with it and that parents on both sides are going to help out since they are both still in school. I asked if she considered not having the baby and he told me her parents were Anglican so it was out of the question. (I kept my thoughts about Anglicanism not actually being a real religion to myself at this point since it wouldn’t have added value to the conversation).

He then made the statement that stuck in my head..:

“My chile go get handle real good!”

I didn’t know how to translate the statement properly but I just assumed it meant that he is going to be a good father. Alas I have issues with it

 

Hearing him talk, I suddenly recalled an experience I had when I was about 19 or 20 in which I was told that someone’s period was six weeks late. Well I didn’t panic in front of her but in the privacy of my room I was sweating like a whore in church. Thoughts came flooding through my head and they all were screaming that I wasn’t ready for this. Sigh at that point I wanted to go back in time to that particular Panorama Semis and just not leave with her but it was too late. She had said thatshe was “on the pill” at the time. Thinking back it may have been Panadol she was talking about!

 

I tried to rationalize in my head all that I would do but then the most significant thought  hit me  – I didn’t want HER to be the mother of my child – And with that realisation came prayer and fasting and the promise to God to turn my life around if he spared me from having a child with someone I considered a lil bat-shit crazy but who I knew had a good heart. I wondered if the child would get her crazies and how  I would deal with that.

 

Period came. Crisis was over and I avoided her like the plague afterwards. I know it was wrong but hey I was young and  I didn’t exactly think logical back then.

 

Cut to present day and on hearing that this 18 year old is going to be a dad and I panic as I think about all the stuff this child will need and demand from a parent and how hard it is to raise a child. It still scares me to think about it now even though I am more financially secure to be able to handle it (I think).  How is he and his girlfriend going to cope? Flashes of the MTV show “Teen Mom” are now in my head and well it doesn’t take a genius to know that their lives will never be the same again and that there are going to be tough times ahead.

 

This is not the first time I encountered a young man who was having child at such an early age. During another production, one of the dancers, who flirted with EVERY woman in the cast, took two nights off from rehearsal because his baby boy was born. The boy was 17, clueless and confident in his own abilities.  I wonder how that baby is doing now?

 

Look, I know that no child brought into this world is an accident and all children deserve love and affection etc etc…. but come now, can we not be more responsible. People still go about having sex because it is the “grown up” thing to do but they never think of the consequences. Why are people so careless? Do people really think about the sacrifices when bringing a child into this world?  When I hear stories on teenage moms on their 3rd of 4th child  with “Baby Daddy No..3 or 4” I just wonder……Do people deserve the right to have children?

 

Having children is a gift that some people are not privileged to have. My friend Clint said to me today that “Every important thing we do in life we have to sit an exam for, but any old fool can become a parent”. Now this is not an indictment on the 18 year old but on society in general.

 

I want to advocate that we find a way to lock off the reproductive hormones of everyone in the world going forward and only give them the ability once they pass a one year course on parenting (with a year long psychological evaluation) component.

 

People should have to earn the right to have children!!!

 

Granted my plan would see the increased occurrence of indiscriminate sex and probably the rise in fornication and STIs but umm isn’t that happening now anyway? What we need to do is prevent people from aborting children because it will interfere with their lives or from abusing children because they are having man/woman/financial troubles. 

 

We have too many damaged people walking around today and way too many orphans that nobody wants who continue to grow up with a slight disadvantage and thereby limiting their potential to excel. I am serious here.

 

We need to imbed a chip at birth or something. We just need to do something! There are people who walk around with their babies as if they were dolls or miniature versions of themselves and dress buy brand name clothing and shoes and jewellery for these infants, yet some can’t afford to buy books for these same children alter on. It is as if they loved the children when they looked like dolls but as they got older, the effect wore off. The children are now problematic.

 

I recently met a child who, despite passing for QRC, had not a single book or uniform a week before school was to open. Daddy was absent (well a birthday present every year covered his duties apparently) and mommy was overextended.  This child deserved a fighting chance. Thankfully, the child was blessed with a godmother who came to the rescue but there are hundreds of children out there who are not so lucky. It kills me inside to think about these things.

 

Look I don’t claim to have a solution to any of these problems and Lord knows I envy every parent I see with a child, especially the parents of my godchildren, Kai and Diego, but I am scared to think of children who lack the family support or love in their lives. It is disheartening and sometimes I wish I could adopt all of them (well not really maybe two or three if God permitted).

 

Alas I am a single man and Caribbean law considers me a predator so I will have to look on and spoil my godchildren and the random children I encounter and let their parents worry about the damage I have done to their hard work.

 

I believe that children are our future….. (you know the rest)

 

Sorry… I just needed to vent.  

 
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Posted by on September 27, 2011 in Emotions, Family, RANT, Relationships

 

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Like A Star


This is to no one and someone at the same time…..

 
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Posted by on September 24, 2011 in Entertainment, Music

 

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Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered……


“Yuh see YOU!! You go pick and pick and pick until you pick…SH…..IT!!!”

 

Unfortunately, this comment has been directed to me on numerous occasions.  It is mainly uttered by older folks (my deceased grandmother included) and even some of my peers.  Now I wonder….have they cursed me with this prediction?

 

I used to think that this “picky” nature that they kept talking about only extended to me on an emotional/relationship level because Lord only knows that I seem to have a mutant power-like ability for picking the insane, mentally unstable, and/or the just downright awful people to be romantically involved with.  The people that seem normal and fun to be around initially, usually crack by the two week or one month mark and then you start to see the parts that made you wonder why you were attracted to this person in the first place.  The interesting parts of them seem to fade and you realise that the smoke screen can only last for so long. By then it’s too late and so you either opt to ignore the true version or run like wind. I choose the latter.

Then I realised the curse extended to some of the people that I called friends.  I have made some really bad friend choices in the last decade and even when others told me about it, I chose to ignore it. Not all my friendship choices are/were bad. Well, just two or five choices that have now been corrected and those demons exorcised FOREVER!!! It is amazing the insecurities we let people use against us when we value their opinion, only to realise that they weren’t helping us but keeping us weak for their prolonged benefit. 

Now I realise this curse has overtaken almost every aspect of my life and therefore I can only conclude that the problem is ME!!

Hi I’m Stefan. And I’m too PICKY!

(Murmurs are heard all around the room but no acknowledgement or welcoming to this support group)

SILENCE……..

 

My problem I have realised is that when I am placed with too many options, I then either pick the cheapest (alleged cost savings) or the prettiest (everyone will like my pretty choice) option and then suffer for it. (Applause!!!)

CASE ONE – Physical Training

Day 2 of my Fitness Phase kicked off yesterday with me arriving at the gym to find that my Personal Trainer was nowhere to be found. I checked my phone, saw no messages, and then headed to the stationary bike section to begin my workout. Now at the point of not seeing the Trainer, the old Stefan would head for home and forget about exercise for the day. This is not the old Stefan.  I decided to start my cardio routine in the hopes that by the time I am done he would be there. Forty –five minutes of cardio later and I still don’t see him. He never showed up.

I messaged him after I left the gym and asked what happened. He said he was still in school and that project difficulties had kept him there.

“And you couldn’t call me to say that?”

I of course said this to myself and not to him because I don’t want to be accused of being anal retentive or trying to be someone’s boss. However, I paid money for a service and expect some kind of common courtesy!!

 FAULT: Mine!: I picked a cheap trainer and therefore got what I paid for!

SOLUTION: The month isn’t over yet but me thinks someone will not get a renewal for the next month.

——————————

CASE TWO:  – Colors of the Wind

I had used a particular “Straightener” for my car when minor accidents had occurred with it.  The most recent one being when my “God-fearing” Christian neighbour hit my car door and said nothing about it until I asked him if he had seen the incident. The Guy did the work really good and his pricing was reasonable (well cheaper than the other businesses and his turnover time was really excellent.

I decided to have the whole car painted over and all the little dents and scrapes removed. So I employed said gentleman to do it for me. His price was comparable to the normal car places so I obliged especially since he had done work for me in the past. I left the car with him and went on vacation.

Two weeks later I am back in Trinidad from vacation and I give him a call informing him that I would pick up the car the next day. He tells me it would only be ready the following day. I sigh but say nothing (as I don’t want to be accused of being an asshole or complaining while he still has my vehicle).

I appear at his garage the stated day only to find my car all over the place and parts still not painted. He said the curfew prevented him from finishing it earlier. I laughed inside. I asked when he might be done and he told me in two days.

This could only mean that NO work was done on my car for TWO WEEKS!!!. I say ok and walk away. The old Stefan would’ve shouted at the gentleman for the inconvenience and stated that it is obvious why “black” people are second class citizens because we can’t be trusted to do a job without someone constantly behind our back making sure we do it!!  But I am not that Stefan anymore. He is angry and wants vengeance on everyone that he thinks wronged him. He doesn’t have God’s  love in his heart. The New Stefan does!!

Two days later I get my car and while the color is fine, the parts of my car that used to be grey are now painted black. His wife is in front of me saying that the car looks really good with the black trimmings. I am just smiling.

I asked him what is the balance I owe him and he calls one price and I reduce that price by $1000.00 as he did not restore the car to the condition I asked. His wife nodded and I got the discount.

Now I drive an old time police vehicle…sigh

FAULT: Mine! I should never trust that people would do their jobs. You have to micro manage them. 

SOLUTION: Phone Numbers were deleted. He no longer exists as one of my tradesmen..

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I can give you so many more examples of my choices turning out to be bad but I am sure you had read some of them on my blog. I am sure people remember my story on the two plumbers and how one fell asleep on my bathroom floor while estimating the cost of repair of a leak. Sigh.. well it seems that the more I try to make informed decisions in Trinidad, the more they backfire.

So, considering I am so bad at picking people to do anything for me, shall I employ someone to do that job for me? Nah I can’t, because I will end up picking the wrong person for the job and then be stuck with someone trying to control my fate.

When people try to set me up on blind dates, I balk at the idea and talk my way out of it by asking: “If this doesn’t work out, whose side are you going to take?”  When no answer comes, I just reply: “Thought so.”

Maybe I have been going about this all wrong? Maybe I need to stop making decisions and let others do it for me?

Hmmm, not a bad idea.

Nah that won’t work.

As I sit here I can recall the MILLION times I asked people what do they want to do and the answer would always be a shrug of the shoulders. Asking someone where they want to eat is sometimes as bad as asking them to recite Pythagoras’ Theorem.  The answer is always the same. “You Pick!”. I always have to point out that while I may be a tad fussy, I am a fat boy so  there will always be something on the menu for me to eat. Women on the other hand have numerous reasons why they don’t like a restaurant or the waiters in it or even the décor. Who CARES? I just want to eat somewhere!!

This scenario is no different liming with guys but at least they know that they want to eat and drink and KFC and a bar at the roadside will always be a winner.

So I ask again, how do I get rid of the curse of being “picky”?

 When people called me pickyin the past  I usually cited my Credit Risk background and said that I overanalyse situations so that I don’t suffer too much in the short/long run.

“If I lose the High, at least I’m spared the lows” – Will Young (Leave Right Now)

Alas to some extent, I have become numb to people and their “dutty” ways. No longer do I lash out. I just resign myself to walk away and not end up choking someone. Chances are if I continued to let allt hese people affect me, I may be in Woodford Square in my underwear shouting randomly at people.

We definitely don’t want that, do we?

So, what am I to do now?

HELP!!!

 
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Posted by on September 21, 2011 in Emotions, Humor, RANT, Relationships

 

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Muscles


Did I ever tell you about my dislike for Gyms?

I’m sure I have.  I find them to be vessels of all that is wrong with society. And alas, they are a necessity.

Over the past 3-5 years I have done my best to avoid using this institution in my quest for a  non “tut tuts” ridden Stefan. Efforts so far have proven to be a tad futile.

I thought I had found a brilliant strategy by taking Tennis Lessons. I was happy. My form improved, my stamina as well and on a good day I can have a killer back hand. Then reality set in. Why is my body not changing its Buddha-esque shape?  My legs are firmer and I feel more energetic, but why haven’t I become lean? The answer was however right in front of me.  I looked at my coach and then I turned around and looked at the other players my age or older (one cannot include children and teenagers who can lose weight just by farting). They all looked the same. They were all fit but their body types never change. The guy with the wicked serve still has a bear-belly and he plays here everyday for at least 3 hours. Why don’t any of them look like Nadal/ Blake/ Federer or even Agassi (even though I always thought him to be chunky)?

Answer: They are not athletes who do strength and endurance training along with tennis. No one on the court is that committed.

In an attempt to up my game I enrolled in a kickboxing class. And some days I would go to this class right after tennis and be subjected to serious torture on my body.  The class would consist of 10 minutes of cardio involving laps around the room  followed by push ups and sit up and all manner of stuff that seemed to some extent be improving my core.  It was working. I was shedding a few pounds here and there and I felt good. Coach was however looking for a fighter to compete in various tournaments held inTrinidad. I know I didn’t fit that mould, plus a couple of times coach put me to spar with other students, I realise that I don’t like people hitting me. It hurts a lot. So I told him that I was only here for training. Alas his other students all lost the matches he put them up for and well, he gave up. He no longer holds classes.

Can you do that? I never will be able to!!

I think that was partially my fault as this year I went from play to play and so I hardly had time to go to training.

Which brings me back to now. What do I do? I am back from my vacation that had me drinking more coffee than I ever did before, eating food in some GREAT restaurants (Fogo De Chao – I love you) and sleeping a lot. My first 2 days inNew Yorkfound me snoring away in an apartment and not exploring the sites. Why? I was tired from work and there really wasn’t anything new in NYC that wouldn’t be there when I decided to actually wipe the “yampee” from my eye and scrub me mouth.

In speaking with friends and acquaintances, many suggested that I get over my aversion to the gym and get back there. One suggested that I come and  Zumba with her. While Zumba looks like fun, I think I have enough issues in my life without employing a weighted hula hoop as part of my new exercise regime. Someday I’ll get over myself but it isn’t right now.  Another suggested Spin Classes (which I have tried already). Spin Classes make my legs bigger and toner. Everything else stays the same size. I was fond of Spin Class and the fact that I was drenched after the work out and would sometimes slip in the pool of sweat that I left under the bike but after awhile that joy wears off when you have all these skinny people in front of you in tight clothing while you sit in the back in everything slack so that you were devoid of shape/form and jelly rolls.  Sigh I have way too many hang-ups.

So I decided on a Personal Trainer. Initial quotes given to me for a personal trainer ranged from TT$100 – $200 a session. I quickly asked for a definition of a session because in my mind paying you that kind of money for 30-45 minutes of your time, I expect to be dropping weight in no time. Instead all my “cheap” ass tells me is that my wallet and bank account will drop size really fast.

I found one for a lesser price and I have just started to interact with him and well he is a tad bit odd. He asked me what I were my goals in terms of working out. I stated clearly that I want to lose weight. I want to build my chest area but overall I just want to reduce my body fat and appear toned. 

Trainer: “Oh so you wanna look like me?”

Me: Err you kinda skinny. If I get that small people will think I have the Hi 5

Trainer: LOL Nah kid I not that small.

Wait he just called me kid?

Me: Umm what is your waist size? 28?

Trainer: Nah I can’t find pants to fit me, so I buy a 30 and get it adjusted

At this point, my gut told me to walk away and forget this thing as he obviously is clueless, but I hired him.  I am trying to be less hasty with people and give them enough room to hang themselves..oops I mean…relax and let’s see how things go. Not everyone gives a good first impression.

Our first session consisted of me doing the following routines:

Bike – 15 minutes

Elliptical – 10 minutes

Then a series of back and shoulder exercises. I was always to do 4 sets of 10 for each exercise. At one point he pointed to a machine I already used and when I corrected him on it he pretended that he was pointing to the one next to it (Small Thing – Mental note made)

Then he took me to the are  where people do “Chin Ups” and I looked at him and said:

Me: I am not ready for this machine.

Trainer: Nah kid, this one easy.

There he goes calling me kid again

Me: I’m not ready for this one.

Did he listen? Nope. He had me climb up and informed me that he were not going to use it freestyle but in combination with a weight so that it propels me back up. Once again, I uttered that I  wasn’t ready for this.

He put the weight thing around half and told me to stand on the lever and do the pull-ups. I managed one and then he realised that the weight wasn’t helping me.

Trainer: Wey kid you real heavy. Leh we try it at ¾ of all the weight.

Same thing happened. He started to giggle.

At this pint I turned to him and said “Let’s forget this one.”

Trainer: Nah this piece of equipment important for strength training

He set it for all the weight and the same thing happened. He giggled and then decided to give up. By this time, a couple other people were waiting on the machine, and nearby there were women using other machines that developed into a giggle.  It was turning out to be embarrassing but being the trooper I know myself to be, I made a joke out of it so that people would think I wasn’t ashamed of what happened.

Me: What ah tell before? You watch my size and think that I could lift myself up?  Do you know how much macaroni pie running through my veins?

There was slight laughter and we moved on to another machine that was easier.

I did some ab work after that and then spent 15 minutes on the treadmill before heading home.

This morning my body is ok. Slight joint stiffness but Absorbine Junior and Ben Gay helped ease that tension last night.

I am due to meet with him today. I pray he gets better.

Everyone knows my resistance to commitment of any kind but for my well being I am hoping this thing works out.

I long for the day when I can walk onto the beach and take off my jersey while strolling and have everyone be in awe of my perfect pecs and flat stomach and v-shaped torso.

Look, I consider the 12 people who actually read my blog to be my therapist, I refuse to pay someone for 45 minutes when I have an entire you all to test my paranoia and random thoughts on without the fear of  judgement. This method is cheaper in the long run..

 
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Posted by on September 20, 2011 in Fitness, RANT

 

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Too Much


The following blog contains subject matter that may not be suitable for the  squeamish.

DISCRETION IS ADVISED

In the long run scheme of things, is it too much to ask that I NOT be disturbed while using the toilet facilities? Come on now!

Is it too much?

Listen, I know I have a lot of quirks that may be driving many people away (hopefully) from thinking that I am an ideal mate, but let’s face it, as I get older, these “quirks” are here to stay. I have embraced them and I understand their need, function and importance.   Now it is time you learnt to do the same. Trust me when I say I put up with your “quirks”

NO TALKING IN RESTROOMS/ TOILETS?BATHROOMS

There is absolutely no conversation, point, opinion, detail that needs to be shared while someone is urinating that cannot wait until you both have left the confines of these rooms. Come now! Do I really need to hear about your plans for later or about the email you need to write as soon as you leave here? Nope. Not necessary. AT ALL!

Let’s face it, some of the restrooms we encounter are filthy or have an odor that, while it may clear someone’s sinuses, it is just not fit for actual breathing.  

I recall having to use a restroom at the Baker Street Tube Station inLondon. I can’t remember how long it took but I do remember that I think I must’ve broke some record for holding my breath as I held it from the staircase leading to it, through its use til I got back to the staircase.  I felt a tad dizzy after but there was no way in HELL was going to subject my nose to what lay in that facility.

Restrooms in your workplace may be cleaner, I still believe that there must be NO TALKING in this area unless you are washing your hands.

One time, I entered the work restroom on my floor and found it to be empty. So I  made my way to a urinal and relaxed into getting the job done.  Lo and behold, a colleague from the office across the floor came and decided to use the urinal next to mine and began to have a conversation with me on a resolution I had sent him the day before.  I did not look at him nor did I speak.  I finished my task, made my way to the sink, washed my hands and nodded to him as I left.  I waited for 5 minutes before calling his extension and explaining that I wasn’t trying to insult him but I just don’t believe in talking in bathrooms. He apparently fell to the floor laughing while I explained this important matter.

EGESTION AND ITS LOGISTICAL PROBLEMS

When one has the need for bowel movements and one is not in the hallowed space of your apartment, SERIOUS problems arise.

Where shall I do it? Are there alternative bathrooms? Is the facility properly ventilated? Is there air freshener? How is the toilet paper? Will the seat be hot, cold, wet, stained? Will there be a seat? Is an alligator likely to come through the toilet and bite me?

Sigh…all these questions can drive a person to drink.

Me? Nah not a problem. My body adjusts to its surroundings.

If surroundings are not up to standard or I am at someone’s apartment where there is only ONE bathroom, my body will wait til I get home. (Please note the location of the  second bathroom must be away from nucleus of  activity in the house., otherwise safety mode will be turned on).

If multiple point are available for use, then a location will be sought that is not used frequently by others.

In the office, I hardly EVER use the bathroom located on my floor should there be a need to egest. I will use a bathroom that is hardly ever used on another floor or I will scope out the bathroom on my floor until I am certain it is devoid of humans.

Of course, this doesn’t always work out well as sometimes when you are in the midst of egesting, someone walks in and can possibly hear the noises you make while doing it or breath in the “tootoo” molecules and run screaming out the bathroom.

Look I will be the first to admit that I don’t fart lavender, pot pourri or any such appealing fragrance.  The smell may not be one that reminds people of a rotting corpse but it still isn’t a pleasant one.

There have been too many times that I have entered a bathroom unexpectedly at work and be almost knocked out by smells emanating from the room. In most instances, I am able to exit before the offender as emerged from the bathroom but sometimes you end up locking eyes with them and you just pretend nothing is wrong while trying to hold your breath and look normal.

I am a safe user of public bathrooms. Sharing a space with strangers is always problematic as many seem to lack proper bathroom etiquette or they just seem to go primordial when it is time to use the facilities. In the building where I work, I have found FOUR excellent locations where the bathrooms are not high traffic areas and I feel good about that.

There are times when one of the locations is compromised but I am able to access the others without being detected.

Look. I only make these points because I am tired of having to explain to people that I am not comfortable in interacting with them in these areas.

I remember explaining this to a group of colleagues some years ago and one saw fit to find me in my location at the time and proceeded to tell me that one of the Seniors was looking for me. I did not answer. He repeated the statement about three or four times and I did not answer.

He left the bathroom by saying:

“Ah see yuh foot yuh know”

“ Ah know yuh there. “

“Why can’t you just answer me?”

I still did not respond.

I left the bathroom a minute later ( as my bowels refused to continue because of the interruption).  I entered the Senior officer’s office only to find my co-worker there acting all out of sorts because I refused to respond to him. Meanwhile, I am there, calm and collected and ready to execute whatever duty that I was being called upon to do.

Was I wrong? I still don’t think so.

Look in this day and ages where everyone is in a hurry, I take a bathroom break to gather my thoughts and find peace amongst my momentary filth.  It is the only time I prefer not to be rushed.

Granted I won’t be in there for like half hour or any ridiculous time frame as such, all I ask is a moment or two without conversation. Without harassment. Without the sound of someone elses load going” Gloop” or “Pfffffft doooop” or “gurrurrururururrrrr”

Can’t a man find peace in this midst of the storms around him?

Am I alone here in my quest?

 
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Posted by on September 12, 2011 in Emotions, RANT, Uncategorized

 

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For Your Consideration –


It would be around 1995, a gangly boy is riding his bicycle up and down the UWI Campus humming away at the music in his Discman and just enjoying life. Ah those were the days. The days when I could order a Personal Pan Pizza and Cheesy breadsticks from Pizza Hut for $20 (for Delivery) and be content.  

I had heard a song from Vanessa Williams called “The Sweetest Days” and was mildly interested in it.  I remember casting it aside as one of those songs that would be played in every High school Graduation now and for years to come.

Then, one evening on Milner Hall, while trying to study in the common area, I would strike up a conversation with a fellow Milnerite and he would chastise me for my lack of love for the song (It would be the first of many conversations/arguments on music). He would also suggest that I take a listen to the entire album. 

Being very cocky and self- assure of what I thought was good music (at the time), I ignored his advice on this particular matter.

Vanessa Williams? Vanessa the Undresser (as she was known back then)? Err nope. I’ll pass.

Cut to a couple years later and this Milnerite and I are having another conversation on music and he brings up the point that I still haven’t listened to the Vanessa Williams Album called Sweetest Days.  He recommends a few tracks beyond the released single that I didn’t care for and also tells me that Sting is on one of the songs. This time I decide to take a listen.

What I heard was sheer brilliance. A beautiful soothing voice being layered over some amazingly well written  songs and not one instance in which the melody or mood was being forced down your ear drums.

I bought that album and wore it out and in 2006 purchased another copy of it (which I still play).

FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION:

 

Track Listing:

  1. Intro-Lude
  2. The Way That You Love
  3. Betcha Never
  4. The Sweetest Days
  5. Higher Ground
  6. You Don’t Have to Say You’re Sorry
  7. Ellamental
  8. Sister Moon
  9. You Can’t Run
  10. Moonlight OverParis
  11. Constantly *******
  12. Long Way Home

If you are still hesitant to listen to the entire album, then by all means please ensure that you listen to the tracks in bold.  Of utmost importance is that you listen to the song “CONSTANTLY”.  Oh and if you like “the Sweetest Days” then you will love this album.

I never doubted Matthew Wilson’s taste in music after that. Well, Kylie Minogue still raises slight issues for me but that is another fight for another time.

 
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Posted by on September 7, 2011 in Entertainment, Music

 

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