Wadadli Pen Story Entry 2012

The steel pan played as I dirtied my tongue with the goat water, fungi 'n' pepper pot and a bit of dialect. All around people were moving up and down the streets swaying to the tantalizing rhythm of the music as they went about getting their ducana and saltfish with 'chap up', bullfoot soup, conch water, ginger beer, soursop juice and the list continued as did the music and the people.

It took me awhile to decide whether it was the sorrel, raspberry or ginger beer that I would get. The economy would not allow me the luxury of eating four and five plates with as many cups and variety of drinks and still be able to pay APUA's utility bills come tomorrow. So I settled for one, the ginger beer. The Lord knows how I loved to feel the chill making its way to the back of my throat, just before it hit with its ear-burning sensation. It was one of the joys of this world.

Now all I needed was a place to sit in silence to eat and reminisce on the years' turmoils which had brought us to this occasion: a celebration of freedom. From my little corner in the botanical gardens I delved into the fungi.

White & Thin in this Black & Thick 1 (2013 August)

I began dieting when I was 9, and I've been working towards not doing so for approximately two years.


I am much better because of a few friend who adore me just as I am 5' 9'' and approximately 185.
That is approximated because, I have not checked my weight in years.
In the past I would check 5 or more times a day...with ease
I can lose 2lbs per day, and put on 5lbs per day

This Week (2014 May)

This week was...different. I wrote more than I have in any other week of this year. I have enjoyed it.

Proffesor J. Levy has been working with us on our photography skills. We shot food. It was fun.

I still need work on the execution of my ideas. I set up a few compositions that were worthwhile, but I couldn't get the shit decently. Sigh.

I am still super content though.

09/18/14

09/18/14
So yesterday I walked until the sole of my feet burned. This morning I woke to my ankles being in pain. But it was worth it.

I'm In Love With Some Guy

He's not some guy. Let me be honest. He's the closest thing I've found to what I want without comprise. I don't know him very well. I don't know him. I've seen him four times. We do not communicate. I hear things about his, read the things he's written. And the way he thinks, the image that's been created of him is the image I've been yearning for.

But is gets worst...better...his dreams are mine, his mind travels in the same direction. His love is mine, only it's not because, I am not his desire. I pine, whine....I dine alone in this misery. I am tired, I can't wait to have more of him beside me. I am anxious for his words to be written for me, not about me, not with a mention of me, just to me.

To me, a simple girl too caught up with this love, this infatuation, this lust? this heartbreak, this eye-opening that another mind like mine exists to see that I am a woman.

Confused...By the Spam Post

So I just walked into my queue of blogs on Google and noticed that somehow Ink In These Veins was still at the top of my list despite the fact that I posted to LKPP last. Upon checking why I saw that there were more than a few spam posts which have now been deleted. I have no idea what went wrong but I'll leave it be since nothing else seems out of place.

To find more on me visit my new blog.

This Isn't Me

Too often I sit to type an article, and I either find something else to do that brings me calm and peace or I daydream. I hate what I'm doing I think often, and often I recall four months ago when I said I'd just go to the first meeting and then dump out, and then leaving the meeting psyched that it would be a different paper. For awhile I was pleased. It was nice.

But then I read an article I wrote for which the attitude was changed and the paper began peeling itself so that added attitude, and political direction was found within its pages more and more. As it shed, I've walked farther and farther from it emotionally. And unlike most my emotions and I are tied. My job and I are tied to each other.

I was instructed to separate myself. But how do I truly separate myself from my job? A job which requires me to be alert at all times no matter where I am. To do my job at the best of my ability. I must be able to pick out what is going to be the next important factor. So how can I separate who I am from what I do especially when my writing has always been who I am.

I have lost all interest in writing the news. It does not simply depress me from the angle that the information is damning but also from the angle that my voice isn't my own, that my point-f-view must fit into the confines of a specific political view.

Now I can't say that anyone has ever told me this outrightly. But the attitudinal change made to the above mentioned article a few months ago showed me that. The topics which are chosen, the angles which are requested...they ell the story. I can feel my spirit being silence, stifled, muffled.

This isn't me. If I am to do a job where I am to use my talent. I must be able to speak the truth as I see it, unbiased, without political direction, and simply for the betterment of the population: the underprivileged child, the struggling family. They are who I see. They are the ones I intend to be the voice of, and for, not a political party whose aim is to regain power.

I care not of the party. I care for the people I care for the country. I care for the future, the best future that I can help to happen.

So...writing depresses me. Every time I must write an article for the newspaper I fall deeper into a feeling of being controlled, guided like an animal, quietened lie a disobedient child, and my writing fails because my mind closes to a point where I don't even feel like making my skill better just so it can be used to direct people in a direction that I am so thoroughly against.

Note, that I am not taking a stand against any party simply against the attitude of shedding light only on the dark side of things. Now one might say well you need to know the bad. I agree. But you also need to know the good. A view of every side is a necessity. I foresee things because I have a view of which takes in the light and dark side. And this helps because the light has dark areas, and the dark has light areas, and at times these pockets of light in dark and dark in light are what give you a better idea of the whole being hidden.

So it depresses me writing for the paper, this aper more than news usually depresses me. I hope t find a brighter side soon.

Wish me luck. Send me prayers