airport musings (thirteen things)

O, how I miss Air Jamaica’s direct flights from JFK to Grenada. The alternative (on an airline who shall remain nameless) includes a five-hour wait in the airport in San Juan, Puerto Rico. I always consider buying a Spanish-language Cosmopolitan magazine, but I never do. Mostly I just pace and wait. Look at the books and the duty-free perfume and terrible fast food and listen to the strangely perfect English coming over the loudspeaker.

It’s by no means a rotten experience. Just that by this point in the trip, I’m dying for Grenada, slightly traumatized by my time in New York, which nearly always involves a very large amount of time alone with my thoughts. I should be prepared for this, but I’m not, so I’m unsettled and re-thinking some major . . . uh . . . stuff.

I can usually sufficiently distract myself by reading, but not always. Sometimes I have to put pen to paper. Here’s what happened, followed in italics by whatever I can’t resist adding now.

1. I have a hard to find off-switch, but it’s there and it’s essentially permanent. Is it possible that for some people I have a bottomless fount of forgiveness, and that for others, I’m just already ready to bolt?

2. I may be 30 and I may be a mommy, but I am not exempt from gut-wrenching, soul-scorching, never-going-to-happen “crushes”. (And there should be a better word! But I digress.) In fact, the primary difference between me at 15 and me at 30 is that “they” — gulp — actually last longer. Like more than two years, currently, though I only have myself to blame for nursing it. So, in the dictionary, next to the entry for bittersweet, there should be a nice little pencil drawing of me, alone in a hotel room, alone and wearing a bridesmaid’s dress, with only my ipod for company.

Wow. Now doesn’t *that* sound terrible. And it is, but only sort of and only sometimes. The truth is that 1) I’m used to the situation by now and 2) I’m quietly resigned, even serene about it. A while ago I wrote about fear and regret. What I was thinking while I wrote, but didn’t actually SAY, is that the only thing I will regret in the future will THAT WHICH I FAILED TO DO/PURSUE/DARE . . . out of fear. So perhaps that explains why, no matter what happens now, I have no feelings whatsoever of sorrow or embarrassment.

3. My friends and family are, of course, totally amazing. Even Dad with his bizarr-o political diatribes from which none of us are safe. And every time I go back to visit I tell myself I should think about moving back to the States. I only wish they knew how counterproductive it is to whine at me about it. Don’t they know by now how contrary and stubborn I can be? I’ll be ready when I’m ready and not a minute sooner. Tug on my heart strings and I just get confused and emotional and go turtle.

On the other hand, every single day that passes it seems there are fewer reasons for me to stay here. It’s time to be honest with myself about that. There’s no future for me here and there never has been. I’m not 50 and I’m not retired and I’m not content to remain removed from my world for much longer. Besides, I always said I wanted to go to grad school as soon as I figured out what I wanted to do. As the same plan has now sounded good to me for more than a year, I do believe believe the time has come.

4. I love my little boy more than anything else in the world. These two weeks have been an eternity.

How could I ever have worried that I might think my own child “stupid”? No wonder my mother thought that was hilarious.

5. I’m too clever and too old to to stay with someone whose best selling-point is that he loves me. Forget that. I need to stop being lazy and wussy and address this already. I want my heart to do somersaults. I’m tired of being just comfortable. Above all: I’m tired of being surrounded by ignorance.

Urp. Wasn’t that prescient?

6. I am fabulous and I do not have time for anyone who doesn’t see it. (Hilarious. How many diet Cokes *did* I have?)

7. Silence can be an excellent — nay, vital! — conversation tool. I should use it more often.

8. Grenada really really needs VH1, and no, I am not being selfish. I just feel the world would benefit greatly if we all stopped, took a few moments and paid a bit of attention to Charm School.

9. Apparently I can finally pass for Puerto Rican. Hallelujah.

10. If I can come to love the heat of the tropics, I can get used to anything. Tho’ I do miss snow . . .

11. I both need and want more exercise. When I’m active I not only look better, I’m not grumpy.

12. I am very seriously thinking about focusing on my own business instead of looking for a new job. It’s clearer than ever that I am not cut out to be anyone’s employee.

13. I do not need or even really want an 80GB ipod. Can you say overkill? Especially since I’d rather eat a camel than hook it up to my laptop. I’m convinced itunes wants to eat my music. No, seriously.

14. Top 40 radio really isn’t all that bad, especially when it’s been over a year since you’ve heard any.

Yep, that’s fourteen things. And here’s #15: I’m doing my best to stay in this headspace. Nothing matters more right now. To that end, tomorrow we go back to the story. I need to write more. Period. Blogging alone isn’t good enough.

men will be boys

What *is* it with West Indian men?

Not ten minutes ago, I am sitting here in my office, quietly minding my business, when I hear this infernal ruckus right outside.  Little boys screaming and dogs barking like all hell has broken loose on the beach.  Here at my place of employment we are used to these things, but this was more extreme than usual. 

I hurry outside, because I just *know* that my dog is one of the ruckus-makers, and what do I see?  A grown-ass man, arms raised, big stick in one hand, surrounded by the afore-mentioned barking dogs and screaming boys.  The stick is flailing around so fast I can’t tell if he’s trying to hit the kids, the dogs or even himself.  Or maybe he’s keeping the stick away from the kids?  Like, teasing them with it?  I don’t know; all I know is that it’s BULLSHIT and I will not tolerate it, not here, not during the working day.  So I shout “Dreadie!  What the hell do you think you’re doing?  Put down that stick!  Behave like a grown-up!  And get the FUCK BACK TO WORK!”

He is now sulking and will pretend he hates me for the next few hours.  Then he’ll forget all about it.  In the meantime, however, I’m sure he will spread the word that I think he should “bow down to a dog”. 

Sigh.  Yeah, I know, I know, I really know how to “make friends and influence people”.  I could care less though.  In this instance in particular.  (What bothers me about the incident is that it makes me seem old.  I AM NOT OLD!) 

My American readers will think this whole anecdote just plain weird.  To them, let me say this:  There is a bizarre power struggle between West Indian men and West Indian canines around which I just cannot wrap my mind.  My understanding is that a West Indian man would sooner die than treat an animal with anything remotely resembling respect.  Somehow, it’s like treating any animal with respect would make them less of a man.  Does this make sense?  Hardly.  I would argue that the inverse is true.  But you need to keep it in cultural context.  You need to realize that the notion of “being a man” is very complicated and tainted by the remnants of colonial attitudes.  I try to keep these things in mind.  But I can’t and won’t change my visceral reaction to what I consider cruelty for cruelty’s sake.      

Here’s where it really gets cute:  It has been explained to me that the Almighty Himself sanctions this shit.  I have been referred to a passage in the bible regarding this.  I don’t pretend to be a biblical scholar, but I recall the passage in question as the Big Guy telling us it’s our responsibility to look after his other creations on his Almighty Behalf.  It’s called stewardship.  Right?    

I submit that the logic I describe above – this logic that says that treating something/someone with respect constitutes ”bowing down” — it is at best faulty and at worst totally psychotic.  Because, really, what does it say about a man when he chooses a dog as a sparring partner?  When he picks a fight with a child?  When he abuses a woman he knows will not fight back?        

happy vernal equinox!

There are so few reasons to love Tuesdays.  That’s one of myriad reasons I’m so thankful for The New York Times Science Section.  Yesterday, they ran a piece that starts:

Some animals are surprisingly sensitive to the plight of others.  Chimpanzees, who cannot swim, have drowned in zoo moats trying to save others.  Given the chance to get food by pulling a chain that would also deliver an electric shock to a companion, rhesus monkeys will starve themselves for several days.  (Geeks like me may read the whole article at http://nytimes.com/2007/03/20/science/20moral.html.)

Doesn’t that just bring a tear to your eye?

I post about this for several reasons.

I ranted yesterday and I’m feeling sheepish about that, so I want something nice and warm and fuzzy for counterbalance.  (Note to self:  limit caffeine consumption!)

I am intrigued by this evidence of altruism in primates.  It makes me smile.  It also makes me wonder if conscious thought rendered us selfish.  I suppose it would have to.  Right?  The very same rugged individualism that sets us apart also makes us a bunch of jerks . . . or something like that.  At the very least, it supports or even confirms my suspicions regarding notions of so-called progress.

I figure I might as well out myself as a reader of The New York Times.  (Sorry, Dad!)

And, last but certainly not least . . . I just plain adore monkeys!  It’s like that BNL tune, If I Had a Million Dollars.  The chorus goes: 

If I had a million dollars, I’d build a tree fort in our yard

If I had a million dollars, you could help it wouldn’t be that hard

If I had a million dollars, maybe we could put like a little tiny fridge in there somewhere

To me, that’s just the sweetest thing.

The monkey reference is this:

If I had a million dollars . . . well, I’d buy you a monkey – haven’t you always wanted a monkey?

See me?  I have always wanted a monkey.  I can’t explain why.  Doesn’t EVERYONE want a monkey?