The Jungle

LN-05

2012-02-03T18:00:00.003-04:00

Ballard Street Stories

2012-02-03T09:47:00.004-04:00

William “Big Willy” Johnson couldn’t be bothered with the list. The head watchman told him to stick to the list, no exceptions. Whatever. They’re just a bunch of lazy caged animals. Stick to the list… please.

Big Willy was running low on his hash stash and his regular guy was sent to San Diego on monkey business. The mellow croc in sector MJ-420 was his only option. “$60 bucks for the swamp green?!? That’s safari piracy!” Big Willy complained.

“Boo freaking hoo,” mumbled the old croc, “you’re making me cry.”

“Whatever,” Big Willy groaned. As fished out his wallet, he couldn’t help flash back to something on the list, but it was vague. It had to do with the old croc: #8 – Whatever … something. “Whatever indeed.”

A sparkling glitter trail trickled into Big Willy’s peripheral vision. “What the…?” He glanced up and saw what looked like a line of gems forming along the old croc’s snout. As he took the cash from his wallet, Big Willy followed the trail up to the cold, shiny eye. The croc with the diamond eye! Suddenly, the list was crystal clear.

#8 - Whatever you do, don't look him in the eye.

The Story of Achilles

2012-02-02T15:51:00.002-04:00

It was one year yesterday that I ruptured my Achilles tendon. I am back on my feet and I would say 90% healed. I still have to "warm up" my ankle every morning, or after sedentary periods but then it's relatively good to go, sometimes lasting even longer than my uninjured leg.

I am still tentative however, perhaps more out of fear than caution, assuming that something WILL suddenly go wrong. But nothing goes wrong, and everyday the fear ebbs away, just a little at a time. I made my first precision jump on Sunday after personally refusing to let today come to pass and not giving it a shot. It was more of a mental leap than physical because it took a while to convince myself to just leap ... landing will be what it may.

I leapt. I landed. I smiled.

And it was good.

LN-04

2012-01-26T09:36:00.001-04:00

Ballard Street Stories

2012-01-24T09:35:00.003-04:00

As the aconitine seeps down into Ted’s tear ducts from the plunger, he hears the soft whispered words drift by. “I told you there would be consequences.” He had almost come to crave those soft feminine whispers, late at night, stealing time wherever time could be found.

As time ran out, his final thought stumbled through his already collapsing mind. “She was right, I can’t play with time forever…”

LN-02

2012-01-10T12:10:00.001-04:00

Ballard Street Stories

2012-01-10T10:01:00.003-04:00

Her parents, teachers, and eventually her therapist repeatedly tried to convince her that clowns should be funny. Clowns should bring happiness. But for Sandy coulrophobia seemed more like a fear of her own joy. She couldn’t remember the specific encounter that ignited the fuse that would continually burn her growing up in south Brooklyn. She only knew that every weekend when the other children and even her own siblings would venture out to Coney Island, she was nowhere to be found. Her therapist told her that when individuals feel safe in a predetermined process, they might be more willing to address the issues with exceptional bravery and profound courage. Sandy had no idea what the response would be when confronted head on in the most “unsafe” manner.

In a desperate final attempt to cure her irrational occupation with the white-faced actors, her beau of six tumultuous years plans the perfect date. For days prior to the evening, Larry intimated of a fantastic night of romance, fantasy, elegance and most serendipitously, surprise. Though he should have learnt by experience, Larry threw caution to the wind, ignoring the fact that “surprise” was Sandy’s mortal enemy.

Sandy’s coulrophobia was about to clash with angrophobia – specifically her own. For in her 52 years on this planet, struggling with her fear of clowns had built up a personal rage she was terrified to release… again. Not after the Huntington Beach incident of 1968. Momentarily struck at the front door, an eerie uncharacteristic chuckle rose from deep within. Sandy understood that tonight, she would be rid of more than her fears.

“Surprise!” exclaimed Larry. HA… Ha… ha.

Ballard Street Stories

2012-01-06T09:41:00.002-04:00

Barbara vowed never to dedicate her life to the routine of the competitive circuit if only she could take Best in Show just once. After finally emerging champion a decade ago, she stuck to her word and disappeared from the Westminster lifestyle, even refusing to address Millie by her proper title, Champion Surrey Spice Girl.

In the years to pass, Ron wondered if Barbara had made the right decision - after all, they were the husband and wife dynamic duo of the regional dog duels. But Barbara stood fast and slowly but surely, a welcome peace came over the Scott household where regimented prancing laps and posing around their trodden garden were substituted for casual romantic strolls along friendly neighbourhood lanes.

Then one uncharacteristically tepid winter afternoon, as Barbara perused her preferred periodical, she came upon a story that rattled something hidden deep down inside. Something she thought she had locked away forever. Millie felt a shift in Barbara’s mood and immediately sprung to her beloved’s lap, her little tail beating against Barbara’s thigh in earnest concern. From the study, Ron felt the tension fill the air and called out, “Barbara, what is it?”

The only sound, Millie’s flapping tail.

“A deerhound,” was the barely audible whisper of a reply. That bastard breed had made it’s way to the winners circle for the first time in the show’s history, closely edging out the year’s best poodle.

“You know what this means Ron,” grumbled Barbara reluctantly, “It’s time to return.” A sudden shredding erupted… Well, if it isn’t little Miss Millie High Maintenance!

LN-01

2012-01-04T15:35:00.002-04:00

Heaven

2011-07-29T10:18:00.002-04:00

Me doing a piece I originally wrote a few years back and posted here. I edited it a bit for performance and then memorised it an hour before going on stage.

Damn you, Sky Monkey.

2011-07-01T09:53:00.001-04:00

12 monkeys made their way from cloud nine this morning carrying the fury of the marsupial sky king in buckets.

That's the only way I can accurately describe the weather today. From the earliest waking moments through press time, there has been no reprieve. My rainsuit needed and received makeshift patches and I boldly took to the road on Pandora with a few accessories as possible.

Here's to getting home dry tonight.

Notable Moments

2011-06-30T10:23:00.001-04:00

My company was mentioned as a sponsor in arguably this year's largest party event - Colour Me Red: The Return.

The Story of Achilles: Chapter 3

2011-06-16T20:44:00.005-04:00

I was supposed to have physiotherapy yesterday. When I checked the appointment card before leaving home, it didn't have a time, but rather a note to call. So I called.

The therapist and I had a brief banter about my leg and my activities and she concluded that I could continue at home as there was nothing we could do at therapy that I could not do (better) at home. Ultra-sound was the last aspect (for the pain and nerve damage) and that was now obsolete. "Congrats and keep up the good work," she said. When I started therapy a few days after taking off the cast, they told me it would be six to nine months before I could use the leg with any real significance.

It has been four months and 11 days since surgery.

Tomorrow will be just three months since taking off the cast!

And here's the magic news... I actually jogged yesterday. Yes, there was something of a limp in every stride, but it was surely much more than walking quickly! My initial goal was to be running again by the end of the year, but it seems that will not even be a consideration. Perhaps I need to aim even higher... like climbing the Pitons again before the end of the year. Hmmm... We'll see how it goes after carnival which happens in a hair's breadth over a month from now.

Funnily enough, a friend approached me to join our parkour movement yesterday. I guess time really doesn't wait. Why should I?

The new chapter begins.

I ran last Friday.

2011-06-07T10:46:00.004-04:00

Truthfully, "run" is just the simple excuse of a description.

It wasn't as chaotic as tumbling.

It definitely wasn't a graceful as sprinting.

It was rapid movement down a hill, chasing after my three dogs, using my legs

...

mostly...

somewhat.

The more in depth description involved a great deal of primal movement that has become second nature to me. Over the past two and half years, since adopting (as best as I can) the primal/paleo lifestyle much has changed, and even much more has happened. Today marks four months and four days since my Achilles tendon rupture. Two and a half months since I have been out of a cast. I am walking without the inverted commas/quotation marks. I am working out old-school primal/paleo style. And I am able to walk barefoot comfortably again.

*Digression: living barefoot is more comfortable to me than wearing shoes in any scenario (I consider wearing Vibram Fivefingers as going barefoot still). But with an inflexible tendon, comfort gave way to the physical inability to place my heel flat on the floor with my leg straight, hence the need for shoes with inserts.*

So while I amazed myself in moving so quickly all of a sudden, I am not so surprised that I am able to, all things considered. I have learned to adapt subconsciously to every situation I come across - be it conquer, change or submit - with remarkable fluidity. So "running" without the full use of my leg, while improbable, was not impossible for when it was called.

Step by step

2011-04-29T15:54:00.004-04:00

Wow. Moving with only one crutch is excruciatingly tedious. That said, the tendon is realising that we are not playing anymore.

# Not so random thought: can you compress "we are not" to "we'ren't"? #

The quad, hamstring, calf and hip flexor exercises are now starting to pay off for more than aesthetic purposes. So we soldier on.

The Story of Achilles: The hare and the tortoise

2011-04-27T10:49:00.005-04:00

12 weeks post-op. Two weeks ago, three weeks into physiotherapy, the therapist said I should start experimenting with putting weight on my injured side (although I had already taken a few unassisted steps and started riding again). Today, five weeks into therapy, she is frustrated with the doctors lack of follow-up attention and prescribes I use one crutch for the next two weeks, on stable ground - it's still raining although dry season has technically supposed to have begun. I can see the need to remove the crutches as soon as sensibly possible. I am already highly dependent on them if only for the sake of efficiency and fun, but at the cost of development. It is much easier and faster to use two crutches and one leg, than one crutch and two legs. But that means it would take twice as long for the recovering leg to learn it's basic functions again. To move faster tomorrow, I need to slow down and move steadily today.

I clearly have not stuck to the photo project.

Ouch

2011-04-26T16:14:00.001-04:00

Over the four-day weekend I rode south for to consecutive days. I learnt how much depends on the proper functioning of one tendon. Without the ability to lift my body off the seat at a moments notice, my spine became an extension of my Suzuki GSXR-600's rear shock. Not comfortable. Today the lower back is paying for my indulgence and insolence.

The Story of Achilles: Get out, get down

2011-04-20T11:25:00.004-04:00

I’m losing count of time again. Daybreak. Sunset. Moonlight. Repeat. I have tangible physical progress with my Achilles tendon, but with only abstract relation to previous benchmarks. February 2nd between five and six in the evening is the start, and since then every moment has been registered in history by the moments prior to it rather than by date. Days, weeks and months have lost their respective order. It is disconcerting only to the end that my goals are becoming abstract concepts of the future instead of a linear path of achievement.

I started riding again [recently].

I finally visited the origin of this particular journey [recently].

It’s Holy Week leading up to the most important event in my faith.

The Story of Achilles: How deep is your sole?

2011-04-07T10:35:00.003-04:00

I’ve been dedicated to the strict regimen of therapy, and obsessed with getting off the reliance on crutches as soon as possible. I have become so accustomed to them, they are now accessories, toys, play things, getting more in the way than helping me along the way.

Progress.

Three insoles in my sneaker. One deep breath.

The Story of Achilles: Therapy Works

2011-04-06T12:57:00.003-04:00

Two months post-op and I believe I've gone quite far along the road back to normal.

*sudden realisation*

Until I typed those words, it hadn't tangibly occurred to me just how long I've been sidelined. I have been simply facing each day and planning the next. This state of constantly striving for millimeters of flexibility, muscle control and abstract strength is my normal. Hmm.

I can stand completely unaided (almost, depending on wind conditions) and can now walk (hobble Quasimodo style) with only one crutch. The swelling still occurs when I forget to elevate and use the warm water bottle during the days at work. The nerve damage caused by the cast on the top of my foot which makes my toes tingle is subsiding, which indicates the ultrasound is doing what the therapists said it would. I need to remember to start a weekly photo-journal.

The Story of Achilles: Almost 90 degrees in the shade

2011-03-26T09:46:00.001-04:00

This morning after taking the dogs out I did Ab Ripper X. No breaks, all the way. Stay strong!

I can almost touch the ground with my heel already. I can stand without the crutches but still can't put any serious weight on the right leg, much less even take a step, but the flexibility is improving noticeably with every stretch / massage / exercise session I do - and I do that at least three times a day on non-therapy days. I've been substituting heat therapy with muscle rub out of convenience/laziness. Sometimes while stretching I wonder what it looks like from the inside. I iam not sure if it is my imagination or reality, but I believe I can feel the tendon grasping onto the nylon sewn in place and its own repairing fibres. Unnerving.

This morning I saw some of the veins running across my calf and shin again ... sign that they muscles are alive and breathing again.

The Story of Achilles: Therapy Begins

2011-03-23T21:57:00.004-04:00

Today was the first day of physiotherapy. My right leg is wasted, inflamed, numb, somewhat atrophied. I couldn't wait to get the ball rolling.

Ultrasound

Heat wrap

Massage

Stretch

Exercise

Life's Little Pleasures

2011-03-20T20:41:00.003-04:00

- bending a knee when sitting

- turning over in bed without having to wake up

- wet grass underfoot

- taking a shower and feeling that cold water run down from head to toe

Clean and clear

2011-03-18T17:40:00.001-04:00

Freedom Friday

2011-03-18T06:56:00.004-04:00

They told me everything I need to do, when to do it, and how. But didn't tell me anything in terms of what to expect:

"Your skin will be dry - clean it and keep it moisturised."

It didn't flake. It didn't peel much. It was so dry, when the first drops of water touched my skin, a cream appeared. My skin had disintegrated into a fine dust held fast by the cast. After ten minutes of scrubbing the muck, dried cotton and dead hair follicles off my leg and foot, a layer of dermis below started to flake and peel. Another 15 minutes of cleansing, and a half cup of baby oil later, my limb is presentable enough to wear shorts in public.

"You need to massage and work flexibility back into the tendon. It will be stiff."

Understatement of the day.

Stiff is what your neck feels like after falling asleep on someone's lap. Stiff is chewing gum you saved to eat dinner, then thought you could use again after dessert. Stiff is not what your Achilles tendon is after six weeks of immobility. My tendon is as hard as glacial packed rock. My first massage made my finger tips tender and seemed only to help remove some more dead skin.

"..."

They didn't say anything about the soreness in my knee. Common sense told me the joint would require some getting used to the freedom, but this much internal restriction should be cataloged somewhere. The massaging helps, but I see proactive exercises for the thigh and knee in the very short future.

"Have a good weekend."

Okay, that one works for me. You too!

*UPDATE*

Three hours and at least five massages since coming home and the rock hard tendon is giving way to the stiff one I was told to expect. I can now move it side to side. Progress faster than I could have imagined, but not hoping for more than I receive.

Tomorrow

2011-03-17T14:22:00.002-04:00

The perfect clip from one of my favorite movies as a child, rediscovered recently as an adult. There's no better way to describe how I feel today.

Where are you?

2011-03-16T13:29:00.004-04:00

At random moments throughout the day I find myself down long pondering trips and wonder where I was that I needed to be found. So I came here, only to lose what I thought was worth keeping from my wandering wondering.

. . . 42 . . .

I thought you would be excited, not as much as I am of course, but at least a little, as this will be a good event. But instead you found something to be worry about. I am having a hard time keeping up the positive attitude. I am sure you notice that more and more, I withdraw and leave it be, rather than deal with whatever. I still can't tell if this is harder or the easy way out. It isn't my nature, but neither is living under this ominous cloud, constantly battered by unpredictable turmoil. And don't think for a moment I don't understand the turmoil, or can't appreciate it. Nature played different games with us, and we learnt to face the storm differently.

Monkey

Despite the fact that I always say this to multitudes of situations, "The monkey said to" finally made sense to me today. It means, "Why ask why?" There is no reason or purpose behind the line other than to be. That's it. It's not a question. It's not an insult. It isn't directed to any person, animal or thing. And there are no monkeys involved.

Example:

"What are you doing?"

"I thought it might help"

"How could you think doing that would possibly help??"

"The monkey said to."

Get it?

Sometimes, what we do is bigger than us - clear to one, lost on another. Sometimes, you just do what you do because it is what you do for the greater good. Sometimes, there's no reason that will be understood because it applies to something else, but this one action in life affects so many others unknown to us. Sometimes we just find ourselves stumbling along a path we have no recollection finding in the forest of our minds. Sometimes we stay on, following it through. Sometimes we realise, just in time, we need to get off. And sometimes when we try to think back of why or how ... sometimes, there is no reason.

Get your move on. Now.

2011-03-15T16:31:00.004-04:00

I think the ratio between time and tolerance is exponentially inversely proportional. By the time you digest that, I will be six million to the 24th power as impatient as I was just thinking about it when I wrote this. “Freedom Friday” is just over 66 hours away.

Yes, I am counting down.

And yes, I am down to 66 hours.

And yes, it is excruciatingly slow after the unbelievably rapid past five weeks, three days, 16 hours.

Most people don’t realise that the cast removal is only the first step - no, “step” is really inappropriate at this stage in getting back on my feet. Walking will be yet another countdown away. But we will ... *sigh* why can I only think of the lamest action metaphors right now?

Enjoy your movement while it is still yours to enjoy.

He's not heavy, he's my cast.

2011-03-12T13:13:00.003-04:00

Only one more week left in the cast. I can't get comfortable enough to sleep more than an hour at a time, but now it is because the knowledge that I am so much closer to freedom makes the constriction almost unbearable. Physically, not much has changed, but mentally it seems the cast is a ball and chain, a burden I cannot shake off soon enou...*

# sudden realisation #

Physically, something HAS changed - drastically. The five weeks of inactivity have affected my left leg. My thigh is visibly slimmer, I can fit my hand all the way past my knee now. But it never occurred to me that my entire limb, not just the tendon, is also significantly weaker.

The burden is real.

The dog days are (almost) over.

2011-03-09T21:42:00.004-04:00

The little one had surgery - removal of an abscess and neutering. Our house has been uncharacteristically calm and not so smelly for the past two days. I wait, not holding my breath, to see if the changes last.

The older one's ears are being treated for who-knows-what. At least he isn't scratching the life out of them for the moment. And again, the house is not so smelly for it.

The little lady in the middle remains the constant in our pack.

Office Day

2011-03-07T13:26:00.002-04:00

Today is the fourth day in the office after starting my new job ... five weeks ago. It's ironic how having the cast - which signifies an injury - makes most people move very cautiously around me, when the very cast makes me more invulnerable to injury than anyone else around.

The Story of Achilles: Open Mouths and Pelau

2011-03-04T11:55:00.003-04:00

Four weeks down, two more to go.

The padding in the cast, especially around my knee, is wearing thin. In less than a week I have mentally moved from apprehension to impatience towards the day the cast is removed.

I dream about taking a long, full shower. I can’t wait to float and soak in the ocean. I want to bend my knee and get back on my motorcycle, wearing my new helmets.

I have no false fantasies about running, jumping or even walking yet though. One step at a time. I really just want this cast off.

The inevitable loss of size in my leg is now glaringly evident as my thigh floats in the mouth of the fibreglass shell. My knee cracks frequently having more lateral movement available instead of its nature-intended flexions. Overall however, I am glad I have not fluctuated more than two pounds. Push-ups, pulls-ups, core exercises ensure I maintain some form and frame.

I’m having pelau for lunch.

The Story of Achilles: Fight Back

2011-03-01T10:21:00.004-04:00

Since the stitches were removed last Friday, I have begun to come to terms with the impermanence of the cast. I made a commitment to aggressively wean myself off the painkillers. The lowered defense is most noticeable at night. Between the frequent awakenings to find a comfortable compromise in repose, and forced surrender to sheer exhaustion, I manage to meet each dawn.

Last night I dreamt about the morning after the cast was removed. In that dream, I awoke and could actually see the tendon, as though my skin was transparent. The tendon was not seamless and smooth as portrayed in medical illustrations, but more a crude experimental creation of Dr. Frankenstein - alive and functional, but by no means beautiful. I could stand firmly on both feet, but didn't try to walk. I just stood there.

Staring.

Waiting.

- - -

I am determining how to manage going back to work (physically, in the office). Sitting with my leg elevated constantly for two hours puts a strain on my lower back that requires at least half an hour of lying down to relieve. While moving around intermittently, rather than sitting continually, lengthens how long I can sit, it also means longer periods needed to rest when I do eventually succumb. I have been coping with plying my trade from home, being that the nature of my work allows telecommuting, but there is something to be said for the value of community and proximity that cannot be understated.

Perhaps this battle with the painkillers may have to be more diplomatic than militaristic.

- - -

Tomorrow will be four weeks since the day of the rupture.

The Story of Achilles: 21 days and counting

2011-02-26T00:54:00.003-04:00

This day was inevitable. Today, my sanctuary was violated. My cast was rendered assailable.

A dull rotating hand saw carved a crude window in the fibre-glass shell, exposing my wound for the first time in three weeks. Evenly sewn stitches were removed one by one from parched, tender flesh. Flesh that had found a sense of peace in its undisturbed solace of inactivity. Although gentle and amiable, the nurse had no concept of the massive, psychological security breach she initiated.

I need this rupture healed - yet - I want this joint to live in greater safety than I have provided - yet - I need to be stronger than before - yet - I want the strength of the cast - yet - I need to be free of this crutch, and these crutches - yet - I harbour conflict within: a desperate fight to step forward, somehow without stepping out, just yet.

I am constantly aware of the tendon, convinced that what I feel with every passing second is it slowly binding itself together, at a molecular level. It is equally fascinating as it is disconcerting. It commands me to rest, while preventing me from sleep.

The Story of Achilles: The Beginning

2011-02-24T14:11:00.007-04:00

Today

The cotton padding is starting to fall apart. Three weeks into this confinement, the cast has begun to wreak havoc behind my knee. Perhaps it’s the freedom from pain, allowing me too much movement. While my surgically repaired Achilles tendon is getting the much needed rest, the rest of me is ensuring a strong frame is maintained and ready for the moment, as the cast is removed three weeks from now, when it will be required to take up the new slack.

In the fading moments of clarity before sleep envelops my mind, I sometimes liken my leg and its fibre-glass exoskeleton to captives experiencing Stockholm Syndrome towards their captors. There are panicky flashes of apprehension when I think about the day when I will no longer have the safety and security of this cast protecting my reincarnated tendon, leaving me vulnerable to the dangers of the outside world as I unavoidably, albeit tentatively, embark upon the long journey of rehabilitation. The replayed memory of the one step that went wrong sends neurotic nerve signals down my leg, and I struggle to suppress a sharp pain concocted in my mind, a haunting feeling I yet cannot escape.

The following is a retrospective journal of my injury, and the subsequent days.

February 2, 2011 - 1715hrs

After months of excuses, citing reasons both valid and vapid, we’re warming up, jogging towards the stadium to wean our way back into the lifestyle movement we boast - parkour. Now warm, stretched, and bursting with a youthful pride belied by our true ages, we begin practicing wall climbs. The familiar motions come back with repeated attempts.

The confidence returns.

The walls get higher.

At 12 feet, I say, “I can make that.” My fingertips graze the top on the first attempt. With an air of [ ... ], I take an extra step back and proclaim, “I’m making that wall!”

I charge the wall.

The first footplant is solid.

The second is almost gravity defying.

The third is ... *pop!*

Gravity, no longer defied, catches up with me and I return to earth, rolling out of the inevitable crash with second nature fluidity. But something is wrong. It’s not my twice dislocated ankle that is hurting... in fact, there is little pain whatsoever. Just a definitely wrong feeling. I try to stand and promptly keel over face first. Now, the pain roars from behind my ankle. I look down at where my Achilles tendon should be, and see no tension in the skin. It is completely ruptured (a fact that will only be confirmed 16 hours later, as I am being admitted to the hospital for corrective surgery).

February 4, 2011 - 1400hrs

Its taking me a while to get the piercings out by myself, having lost the argument that none of my adornments are anywhere near my leg, much less foot. Most of the people in Victoria Hospital’s Ward 9 are staring in unabashed curiosity at the tattooed man without bandages or an IV drip, who lies among them, who is now struggling to unscrew, unclamp, and unhinge stainless steel rods and rings from his face and chest. Two orderlies saunter into the ward, wheeling a gurney between them. One stares, the other simply says, “It’s your turn” as he tosses me a gown. A gown known by some other standard, I muse as I stare at the floral patterned sheet with no holes, but lined with clips and strings.

1430hrs

It takes a while for Dr. Ali, the anesthesiologist to deliver the epidural, much less find the correct gap in my vertebrae. I am, it seems at the wrong end of a genetic joke, having the unfortunate physiology whereby my only susceptibility to tickles is my lower back. Within minutes though, I am reluctantly experiencing paralysis from my waist down. Physically reluctant to so utterly relinquish control of my body, but, as I was to be awake for the operation, I was rejoicing mentally.

Throughout the prep, and while getting through my flesh to the meat of the matter, the surgical team share the latest gossip. I am somewhat calmed by the fact that this is one of the most common sports injuries and corrective surgeries.

Then Dr. David exclaims, “Whoa! This is the most interesting rupture I have ever seen!”

It's quiet for a few seconds as they all look at my injury.

“Can I see?”

I twist my neck to look squarely at one of the nurses who I earlier spied placing her phone on a counter in the theatre. She looks at Dr. David who I assume assents, then retrieves her phone. I hear a click and she shows me the most interesting rupture they had ever seen.

“Cool” is all I can muster, before the reality that I am looking at my own ankle sets it.

My heart rate involuntarily climbs, and Dr. Ali gives me something cold to relax. It feels like cold little metallic nano-bots creeping in from the IV, up my arm and into my head. Slowly, the table across the room starts to dance, and I remember that I am in surgery, not mortal danger. Dr. Ali talks to me for a while, and I am aware that my heartbeat is once again slow and steady. It’s going to be ok.

1500hrs

I’m sitting in Ward 9, trying to screw, bolt, pinch my piercings back into my skin, paranoid that in the hour they’ve been out, their homes would have been foreclosed. Once again, I have an audience. The nurse patiently waits for me to finish and instructs me to lie back and relax as she fixes a saline drip to my IV. I tell her I feel fine, but she insists, knowingly informing me that although surgery is over, the worst is yet to come. My wife and a few close friends come by and we all comment and joke apprehensively about the cast and the days to come.

February 5, 2011 - 0215hrs

The nurse was right.

1700hrs

I am discharged. I manage to get to the car on my own, very slowly, with the crutches.

February 6-11, 2011

Day and night blur beyond recognition.

There is an ever-present disorientation.

There is a pain in my back and neck that feel like Death setting up camp in anticipation.

This horror is constantly searching for a fault in the heavy painkillers barricade. The battle leaves me extremely fatigued from the simplest actions. I estimate times passing by counting the remaining medications and remembering what I last ate. Self pity is impeded only by the realisation of the burden I have put on my wife’s already laden shoulders.

February 12, 2011

My aunt, a medical professional suggests that the heavy painkillers I am on are actually inhibiting my recovery at this stage. I switch to a lesser medication - 400mg Ibuprofen. The effect is almost instantaneous. Within hours, I am able to sit up and eat an entire plate of food in one go. By the evening, relieving myself is no longer a desperate, daunting task. I can feel the rest of my body regaining it’s former control and strength returning. More importantly, the debilitating pain in my spine and neck is diminishing noticeably as my spinal fluid is restored.

With my burgeoning mobility and awareness, I begin to understand that it is neither my injury nor the surgery which are truly painful. Recovery is the most difficult part of the process - physically, mentally, and emotionally.

Even more so for my wife.

Progress. Maintenance. Life joy.

2010-07-30T19:18:00.004-04:00

Before and after ... left to right, just to be certain.

The current form is maintained wholly through the Primal Blueprint lifestyle. I only "workout" once a week, but maintain fitness as a part of everything I do, everyday. Holistic hunter-gatherer nutrition however, not a daily diet per se, is the primary key.

"Walkabout" - Episode 1

2010-05-04T19:40:00.007-04:00

I cycled 16 miles today.

Last week brought the end to my seven year, one month run with Accela Marketing. This job was the longest I've stayed at any one thing (besides my own life). I was trying to figure out if I wish it was a more amicable parting of ways. Until recently part of me clung to the history of institution I helped create. Today, I realised the bridge was burnt as soon as I got off the other side. So much for history, but thank God for small decencies. Very small decencies. Disappointment resonates strongly on both sides of this separation. I've been told anger also resides not so quietly on the other side. There will be inevitable conflict when opposing core values, regardless of a common goal, impact upon each other on a daily basis. Resentment builds, suspicion gets the better of communication, insecurities will bias perceptions. So I am now wondering about my future. And while I wonder... I wander.

I cycled 16 miles today. On it's own, that's not an impressive statement. However, temper in Saint Lucian topography and re-examine. I am taking (at most) two weeks to clear my head and heart of what was my life's primary drive for almost a decade. I need to get back to the point where saying "I" or "we" only refers to myself, and not the entity I had so deeply become a part of. Every day in one way or another I plan to step out and away from who I think I am - who I was, who I have become - and allow "me" to come back to me. In this time, while I get off the path and run through the fields, I believe I will see once again. It is good to have no limitations, no fear, no direction for a few moments in time in order to allow the opportunities we never knew to crash into us. Time to look outside of the routine and smell some truly fresh air. The reality is I have to re-identify myself before I can decide where, or even what I do next.

What next?

The question that I recently thought only focused on my lifestyle for fitness, health and fun. Now it's fully integrated into every aspect I am, and will be.

I hope to see you on the way. Well, not all of you.

Regress to Evolve?

2010-04-28T20:24:00.005-04:00

So it looks like I'm on the right path. We (humans) really do need to acknowledge what our ancestors achieved in order to fulfill our own potential. Just to recap... I did P90X for 2 and a half cycles last year and plateaued. I actually began regaining the weight and worse yet, fat (gasp)! Then at the start of this year I did Insanity and was blown away - reference: I am 5' 5" and went from a beefy 175lbs 34" waist down to 155lbs 28-30" waist!)
But nearing the end of that program I began to ask, "What next?" Then I discovered MovNat, Primal Blueprint and barefoot living.
It started, as do all things with the diet. Going (and being) primal takes us back to a time more than 10,000 years ago when mankind didn’t eat agriculture as we do today. Today my nutrition is guided primarily by a sensible practical diet of meats, seeds, vegetables, fruits, butters, fats, oils and nuts. I try as best as I can to avoid grains and sugars and food based on these two ingredients... not as easy as it sounds, believe me. After getting a firm grasp on nutrition, changing my lifestyle and approach to life as it comes came almost effortlessly (save the curious looks and awkwardly phrased inquiries from family, friends, co-workers, etc. - especially the barefoot living part LOL)
Well it's been almost two months (including a fabulous three week vacation) since I have been part of a regular scheduled fitness regime and I am even fitter and stronger than before without having padded back on the extra weight. At 33 years old, I confidently lead a parkour group, seem to be the guru of fitness, nutrition and recovery among family and friends, and I play where I work, live and everywhere in between.
I am happy.

And then... what next?

2010-03-16T22:20:00.004-04:00

After some extensive parkour training in climb, vault and jump, I decided to allow my knees some recovery time and 'take it easy' by doing P90X instead of Insanity for a few days. And in this, my last (prolonged) week of Insanity, I am becoming more and more aware of some issues as this program comes to fruition.
All of these workouts (Insanity, P90X, 10 Minute Trainer) are designed to get you in a certain shape within a set time frame. Stick with the nutrition and training and you will achieve remarkable results, but they are not designed to keep you fit forever - they are made with a start and an end, to reach specific goals. They are a the vehicles to a destination, they are not the journey.
What do you do after your one two or three months are up?
Repeat the program, or switch to another? Our bodies aren't made to withstand the constant high intensity indefinitely. Given enough time and repetition, each program will cause you to plateau at some point, and in some cases eventually regress.
Forget Carnival / Summer / vacation / whatever the short term goal may be. What are you going to do to stay fit for life?
Think about it now so that you aren't lost... and more importantly, so you don't lose all that you have so deservedly gained. But then, now that I am in the shape I want and need to be in to have the fun I want to.. what next?
After discovering that he helped develop P90X with Tony Horton, I've been following Mark's Daily Apple for a while for guidance and tips in real-life nutrition and fitness. Enter the Primal Blueprint and MovNat. Their approaches to life, health, diet, well being, fitness, mentality, just about everything, are so close to what I have previously idealised as my own, that I feel like the new guy in the cult. My parkour training, my homespun diet, my view on social interaction, my (the list goes on) all suddenly seem to fit into a larger picture of thinking that isn't so radical... but more natural than ever before.
Time to go out and explore...
Just me musing on 'what next'.
Until such time, keep pressing play :)

Dig Deeper.

2010-01-20T19:54:00.004-04:00

we've started INSANITY by Beachbody. it's been a week and i haven't missed a day. nor do i plan to. i have amended and tailored my diet as best given the circumstances of location and budget. this lifestyle suits me well. i am sometimes tempted to refer to it as ideal. if not only for the limited hours in the day. time itself prevents me from using the strength, stamina and agility as much as i would. if only i could. but i do feel the results in my overall fitness already, albeit inhibited by the underlying stiffness and muscle fatigue. all in a shift to regain a form of former glory, it not better than before. the fact that i can now practice parkour is fun too.

january 2010 - week 1

2010-01-05T23:55:00.002-04:00

new post. new year.
finding the urge to push again. becoming more secluded while allowing public scrutiny of private thoughts. at the bottom of the pendulum, anticipating upswing. house home happy hope... all in time. who's time? make time. find time. find myself.
flies are being attracted to my screen in the middle of the night. good night.

This week is not a good week

2009-10-01T15:43:00.003-04:00

It was like this, this week last year... and the year before.
The 40th week is not a good week.
EVERY creative avenue both my graphic and video teams take are being railroaded by 'upstairs'.
I kicked a hole in the wall in the office hallway yesterday.
Our machines are dying off in poetic symphony, battling for dominance for IT attention.
I cussed out vehemently at no one in particular knowing but not caring that people were in the front office.
Lack of morale, apathy, and outright vehemence is becoming the norm among us.
We are reacting to "change the swirl" by returning designs with perfectly centered squares instead.
We have assigned every client their one allowed colour that no one else can use.
Three clients have been allowed to keep their swirls.
Responses have become either grunts or three word quips.
This cannot continue.
I cannot continue like this.

For a moment, lost in time

2009-07-13T21:19:00.000-04:00

By no more than mere moments, I passed you without seeing. Or perhaps I was looking the other way when you sauntered by. I missed you, and still do.
Soon, I hope.
Soon.
I can only hope.

A stitch in time

2009-05-22T00:51:00.004-04:00

there was a point today that reminded me that a moment can last a lifetime. discovering that the effects of one pin in the etui of life was not astounding. discovering the pin however, was. thanks for the beautiful sewing, the inevitable pricking and the eternal being.

in de mean time

2009-02-19T08:56:00.002-04:00

ah have ah date on line wid de wife dis morning. she tex meh 4 o'clock last night to say she wish ah was deh too in a fete wid she an de NiSAN crew. but seein as tings hadda be how dey is, we doing wha we can until we can do wha we do.

one look, three calls

2009-02-19T01:18:00.003-04:00

i was angry, disappointed, disillusioned, confused and focused all at the same time. the worst thing to do is try to control your heart beat when the only thing you want to do is beat your heart out. but in the end, the end justified the means. i will fight for this. even if it means fighting for you by fighting with you. clichés are wonderful tools in every sense.

is that all?

2009-02-18T00:13:00.003-04:00

i'm going to carnival in Trinidad for the first time in 6 years. hosting one of my best college friends and her hubby. the wife is already there for a good week ahead of us. should be some memorable good times ahead.
if anyone reads this, you'll notice i have abandoned my rule for proper use of punctuation, capitalisation and perhaps to a certain extent grammar. there is a reason. it's too demanding to be proper all the time. better get a good idea out and build than a great building on loose sand. i want to write, but i don't want to feel like i have to. start slow, small and fool proof... or foolish. doesn't matter. so long as something is flowing. Ish, we need to get that back.
that is all.

I have a new Payne

2008-11-05T16:48:00.000-04:00

I went to the doctor today voluntarily for the first time in over a decade (emergencies not included). I have a pain in my neck that has gone unabated for over a week. I decided that while finding out about the growing inconvenience evolving into sheer annoyance, I might as well use the insurance I pay for and get some of it back come tax time by doing a full physical.

Well, we are all happy to know that I am a specimen of good health except for one thing. My new doctor says I have unexplained high blood pressure - 150/100. What she actually said the first time she took my pressure reading was, “Interesting.” She did the test three more times on three more machines. It never changed. 150/100 four times in a row. She then informed me that it’s something of an anomaly given my overall health, but a trend of high blood pressure due to hypertension is something they’ve been seeing happen to younger and younger people.
But not that high.
Not in a relaxed state.
Not in such good health.

There’s no need for medication or anything like that at this point. I have to do the usual battery of blood tests and she gave me a lifestyle plan to follow over the next six weeks which includes adjusting my diet and “intake habits” during which we'll track the pressure bi-weekly.

None of this helps or affects the constant pain in my neck though. She said that is most likely due to something I am doing (unconsciously, habitually, while asleep, ??? ) and I should see a physiotherapist before doing anything else. I did get a "new" bed yesterday, and last night I did sleep better than I have in ages. So perhaps that's part of it, or hopefully solves all of the above. Lack of sleep can cause these things, right?

Oh, the best part of this is the beginning. I chose the doctor because her surname is Payne.

Headaches

2008-10-31T09:47:00.001-04:00

I woke up every day this week with a headache and an annoying niggling pain at the base of my skull. The headache is so constant I am afraid I’m becoming accustomed to it. You always read about or see on television people who have been living with this or that for so many years. I don’t want to be one of those people. I like the freedom of life without pain. I enjoy and celebrate the ability to do what I want, how I want, when I want. It is not a part of life I ever take for granted. I know the consequences of the risks I take every day and I cherish the ability to still have that option to take those risks.
But this pain I have been living with recently... It has to go. Soon.

New work

2008-10-21T10:06:00.002-04:00

The ad we did for Kaycee's clothing retailer in St. Lucia, specifically to be shown in cinema during the movie trailers. A lot of fun went into filling the relatively short 15 second media slot. Enjoy.

Click, click, boom.

2008-10-20T10:11:00.002-04:00

A few months have passed and I have allowed myself to slip into a state of apathy outside of the routine. I have forgiven and rededicated myself. It's time to get going again.

Found

2008-10-02T16:49:00.002-04:00

The passion that comes with doing, while forgetting the reward for action, is fabulous. I found that by thinking nothing, not hoping for anything, just getting up and doing, there was an innocence I had once lost come creeping back into my movement. Fluidity, grace and form flourished out of unrehearsed motions.
Today, having recovered this ... art of creativity ... I made it my method. And it worked. Finally. Perhaps it will continue. Perhaps I have truly found how more is less in practicality.

It will only get hotter.

2008-09-21T19:49:00.003-04:00

it's warmer here than i remembered. there's at least one fan in every room... even the rooms with a/c. the bed i grew up on is oddly bouncier yet firmer than the one i sleep on ritually. too bad it's also smaller. despite the hustle i once successfully escaped, i haven't felt it creep back in. then again, it's sunday. tomorrow, traffic, business, plans, things to do, will raise their hydra's heads and try to bite me. tomorrow will remind me of the heat i forgot.

What's left?

2008-09-03T15:33:00.003-04:00

I have found lately I am paddling in circles in creative doldrums. There is no inspiration to write/draw/design, only the desire to do so exists - and that desire is getting overwhelming. I fear that my talent is being monopolised by its commercial demands, and not discovering new and exciting non-work-related challenges.
wah wah wah - stop coplaining and do something about it, right?
Right.

Spark

2008-07-29T15:42:00.001-04:00

there, in the distance, a darkness grew. small at first, but sure as night takes over day, it grew. i knew the time had come... my time had come. we had said goodbye already. it was time to ....

www.oneword.com

Run

2008-07-11T13:45:00.002-04:00

finding the floor was difficult to a man with no vision... vision lost before he knew the difference between red apples and green mangoes. left. right. just go Sam. just go.

They give you a word and a few seconds to write whatever comes to mind. Then you're published.
Check it out - www.oneword.com

Eye shadow and confetti

2008-07-11T13:38:00.003-04:00

Ring! Ring! My phone rang.
"I'm leaving in the morning."
So why are you mad?

shifting between

2008-06-15T10:26:00.004-04:00

vacations are great.
mornings are slower. the sun sets later and with more colours. birds sing louder. drives seem longer and destinations are worth the journey. people are friendlier and more smiles are genuine.

vacations are great.
you kiss in public ... more. you hold hands and swing when you walk. you do new things with old friends. you laugh louder.

vacations are great.
you only check one email... once a week. you only turn on the phone to find out the time because you don't wear a watch. you miss breakfast but find a plate saved just for you.

vacations are great.
i want to feel like i am on vacation when i get back. i want to remember the things i forgot. i want to hold on to the mentality that lets me know i'm alive, not just existing. i want to do the everyday without the mundane. i want to feel and experience, not just be there.

vacations are great.
you don't use the shift key.

Which came first...

2008-06-03T21:22:00.003-04:00

Ask any scientist, bookie, logistician or crackhead... actuality always transcends probability. Ergo, the chicken (actuality) came before the egg (probability).

It can truly be said that art imitates life. There undeniably exists a basis for any given inspiration. But inspiration in of itself cannot create action, only the motivation for said possible action(s). One depends on the other. Of course, once any action has been initiated, the cycle between thought and deed can be eternal, eventually making the origin difficult to decipher.

But believe me, art imitates life.

Morning

2008-05-26T13:53:00.004-04:00

"To sleep, perchance to dream- ay, there's the rub." Hamlet (III, i, 65-68)

Last night the fan exploded, my brain overheated and the mosquitoes feasted.

Last night I didn't get six seconds of sleep.

At 1:13 a.m I was staring at a standing fan spin in the dark corner of a moonlit room. I watched, unblinking, as it erupted in a yellow orange flame, accompanied by a gunshot snap, followed by a fleeting puff of smoke. This does not help one get sleep. I'm not sure what it gets you, but it's not sleep.

Not five seconds of sleep.

At 1:36 a.m., the Stygian air held kamikaze insects, the sounds of a hundred unidentifiable creatures and the unbearable stench of three dogs who don't care to go outside to release their gas. The only problem with locking anything out, is that you lock everything else in.

Not four seconds of sleep.

At 1:57 a.m., I was convinced I had just had a near fatal altercation with someone who I couldn't get out of my head. I vividly remember a bone snapping. No words are clear, but the name, face, and completely fabricated sequences haunted my wide open, and increasingly frustrated eyes and mind.

Not three seconds of sleep.

By 2:23 a.m. I was franticly struggling to find reality somewhere in a world tainted with over active synapses and delirium... it was not a nice place. Thoughts imagined were confused infused miscued with actions all too real. I was battling consequences to events I had imagined and was doubting the actualities before me.

Not two seconds of sleep.

It's ... bothering how something you have no prior emotional physical rational association with can creep in and take over your mind like a fog. No matter what beam you use, all you see is the blasted fog. What's even more bothering is you don't know what decision to take to get out - drive slower and keep your eyes peeled on the inches in front, twist the throttle flat out and rush towards the inevitable, or just shut the engine off and sit it out.

Not one second of sleep.

Thank God for late night television, cold water, warm sugar buns and sunrise.

Who needs sleep when you can witness the moment that tomorrow has finally come.

Remember.

2008-05-15T09:03:00.004-04:00

It is vitally important that you remember to do it.
Whatever you say you're going to do - daily, weekly, monthly, annually, or even once in this lifetime - remember and strive to do it. You must never neglect or put off what you set out to do. It is akin to having a second home you only reside in once a year. Keep a window open and have someone give it a once over every so often. Nothing breaks down a house like having no occupancy.
And even when you don't have a plan, do something. Stop talking and start doing. You won't regret it.

Denise Belfon - Licks/Energy

2008-05-11T19:43:00.002-04:00

The music video we did for Saucy Wow. Our first video as a company was project/investment which turned out fantastic (I humbly state). Look out for many more.
Enjoy

On the fly...

2008-05-11T19:35:00.002-04:00

My interview with:
Empress Jeanille

and Ju-Ju

It's the end...

2008-05-05T08:09:00.003-04:00

It's the end of the world and we know it...

There comes a point when you have to admit you're going to lose. Not mercy rule or some other arbitrary system. It may have been a close game or a blow out, but at some point, you know ... you've lost.
This is that point.
The game isn't over, but you already know the outcome. The final score is just a mathematical issue for the bookies. In this final period, you really learn the true character of the players. The result is inevitable, but I am curious to see how it will end.

...and I feel fine.

The heat today

2008-04-29T16:14:00.002-04:00

... is downright unbearable. The AC is on full blast and I still just want to take off my clothes, flood my office and wallow in the result. There should be some labour provision for workforce effectiveness on days like this. What do you say we all go s-dipping and chuck in the rest of the week? I know I'd be really productive next time around.

Letter of the day - "C" for craving

2008-04-23T22:12:00.004-04:00

A round cookie with one bite out of it
Looks like a C
A round donut with one bite out of it
Also looks like a C
But it is not as good as a cookie
Oh and the moon sometimes looks like a C
But you can't eat that, so ......
C is for cookie, that's good enough for me, yeah!

Remember those days?

When the hardest thing you had to do was sing along with a muppet whose personality is now re-scripted because someone somewhere decided that a snack obsession was not a healthy characteristic to portray and that educational programming should not assume that their audience has a functional brain and isn't hand fed every scrap of information it will base its entire behavioural psychology around?

Yeah... those were the days.

I like chocolate chip cookies. A lot. Especially the freshly baked ones where the chips are all still warm, gooey and moist. Chips Ahoy will do too.

Go us.

2008-04-22T00:14:00.001-04:00

We are pretty much finished with Denise Belfon's new music video and it looks like we're getting to do a few more, as well as some other artistes. Yaye team!

Happy Surfday

2008-03-19T16:04:00.004-04:00

The ocean swell we have all been hoping and waiting for is upon us. Those who need to will take a day off from work to make sure they get in on this... yours truly included. Most predictions are for 15-18 ft. waves. Most of the guys who fix boards are very busy right now, and they'll probably be even busier after the weekend. Pray for us.

Free Wallpaper : Piece of Work

2008-03-12T14:53:00.003-04:00

Today

2008-03-10T15:48:00.003-04:00

Today I was faced with a friend who was bored professionally. I remember when boredom was a distant concept to me. I also remember when it was all to common.
"How do I get back to the point where I wasn't bored?" she asked.
"Why go back when there's so much ahead," was my response.
What we needed to do was move forward. Progress to a new stage where boredom had no footing and every new day was not only a challenge to her expanding career, but a dare to her creative inertia. Of course it is one thing to say this is the way to go, and another to go. I'm not worried though, she's one of the few women in know who can implement logic rather than emotion at will, and follow it.

I need to save $4,000 in two months in order to enjoy my upcoming vacation without too much concern. It's tax month. Yippee.

The simple joys.

2008-02-26T16:58:00.003-04:00

Tomorrow the madness begins. The 1st Annual St. Lucia Music Awards concept starts becoming a tangible reality tomorrow at 9am.
Joy?
Suppliers who are hard to give a commitment, volunteers who think they are union workers, artistes who think they are divas, too many who do not even think, the set-up, the last minute additions and cancellations, the moment when everyone and their uncle wants to be in charge...... we all finally will be working towards Friday in the same location.
Joy.
At least it is starting. That means it is happening. Years of talking and months of planning are finally going to come to actuality. Regardless of how it turns out, we will prove the critics wrong while simultaneously giving them a whole new batch of toys to criticise, the small minded folks that they are. But at least we will have done it. And in that much, they cannot find fault.
Joy!

I must be blessed

2008-02-25T16:49:00.001-04:00

I went to KFC for lunch. Perhaps that was the mistake I made. I parked the bike right in front of the door, bought a sandwich and fries and sat down to eat. When I came out my bike was gone. Did I mention this was lunchtime? 12 noon on a busy street.
A call to an officer friend (biker cop of course) and patience was all I had. We (two armed officers and myself) went into a notorious neighbourhood in search of my bike. Around every corner, in every alley, on almost every stoop, was a bike. And while everyone knew me and my bike (it is a unique machine to the island) no one saw it recently.
Luck changed when an older man who was clearly unhappy with the way his community was being negatively (albeit accurately) typecast dropped a clue that pointed us in the right direction, only to be set upon by an idiot who, in front of the officers, offered to give me information for a reward.
Within 15 minutes I had my bike back with minor damages where they unsuccessfully tried to hot wire a machine that shuts down it's electrical system at multiple points, and scrapes from passing it along too many narrow alleyways, and one arrest was made.
I bought a round of Guinness for all the old men hanging around and they had a smile and another chapter to add to an all too familiar yet never ending book.
It all goes to show that who you know is so important. There were other police officers who happened to be on the scene and when I told them the situation they said, "Go file a report with CID" and left. My friend said if we hadn't gone in there within an hour, my bike was history. Hail the force.

Click click boom.

2008-02-21T16:01:00.003-04:00

I am now Creative Director (started Jan. 2008). I assumed the role at the height of agency activity: producing the nation's first (and intended annual) Music Awards, an aggressive move to maintain or reorganise our existing client relationships in light of constantly changing factors both past and present, a revolving door in areas of staff, restructuring the creative and production departments, the impending but ever postponing move to the new building... what a way to start the year.
It ain't all happy meals and fries, but I'm lovin' it!

Who's the idiom now?

2007-12-12T14:32:00.000-04:00

I experienced a strange new discomfort while speaking to someone yesterday - a pet peeve for lack of a better phrase, though I use the term loosely as I have never encountered this minor annoyance before.

I was trying to explain a simple confusion of no importance, when my counterpart in the discussion replied with the following:

If I understand you correctly, ...

I have heard those words in that order before, but yesterday they rang so out of tune my concentration was completely shattered. I held up my hand, interrupting the speaker saying that there was no other way to understand me, if not correctly. The individual hesitated, then following the new line of discussion, attempted to argue that I could have been understood incorrectly.

Is that possible?

The word "understand" inherently implies an accurate gathering and processing of information. Anything else therefore is to be misunderstood, not incorrectly understood. I put forth that an accurate phrase would be, "If I understand you, ..." because to understand me correctly is akin to driving backwards in Trinidad, where individuals insist on reversing back.

You understand me? Correct.

Free Wallpaper : Hello

2007-12-05T16:38:00.000-04:00

It's been forever and a day since the last post, but such is life when life is such. I'm on a mac book now, so the size is still widescreen, but the smaller 1280x800 variety. Enjoy.

Playing in the sand

2007-10-17T16:05:00.000-04:00

Sometimes you have no inspiration other than happening upon two images at the right time.
I wish I could unfold my wings in public sometimes.

Free Wallpaper - "Unwrap"

2007-09-06T09:58:00.000-04:00

Don't Give Up

2007-08-31T16:20:00.000-04:00

Therapy

2007-08-29T14:31:00.001-04:00

Dinner with good friends
A cool evening shower
A warm night-time cuddle
There are some things worth waking up for
And others worth going to bed for

An answered prayer...

2007-08-28T16:30:00.000-04:00

The Lord's way are sometimes so mysterious they can cause the best of us to second guess ourselves. Seeing is no longer believing... belief is all you can let yourself see. We pray and ask for a miracle, and when one comes so close to home you wonder, "How...? Who...? What the...?"

But ask and you shall receive, simple as that.

So why is it that with my prayers now answered, I have questions?

Count backwards from 10 to 1...

2007-08-28T15:17:00.000-04:00

sometimes it feels like you're strapped to the table...

but there's nothing wrong with you.

for all the progress...

2007-08-27T16:12:00.001-04:00

what do you do when surrounded by animals
- pretending to be bipedal
- uttering sounds almost comprehensible
- mimicking the actions of the oddity that is our 'normal'

what do you do when the animal rules the city, and the jungle is barren
- when climbing a tree is safer than walking the street
- when a dog's bite is more welcome than an uninvited word

what to do when they do this to you

Refrigerate after opening

2007-08-24T15:42:00.000-04:00

Another revolution has begun and it's the most effectual, yet quiet one to date. By the end, titles will change hands, portfolios will be handed over or handed in. When the smoke clears the rubble will be easier to pick up and rebuild. Small fragments of the abomination which previously stood slowly crumbling will be the new foundation of something better, something stronger, something respectable.

It's not everyday you get to think of or do something fresh, but when you do, cherish the moment. Only for a moment though... fresh never lasts.

Today I feel better than I did two weeks ago. That is not a bad thing.

Ooh.. the cuteness is killing me!!

2007-07-02T22:09:00.001-04:00

Buddha and Dhara have reared a beautiful litter.

Phew

2007-05-25T11:33:00.000-04:00

Last night I gave a three day old puppy mouth-to-mouth resuscitation and CPR. It was a not a pleasant moment seeing the third puppy of Dhara's litter of 11 lying lifeless, unknowingly pinned under her warm comforting body. It's twisted little face, gaping mouth and limp form could not convince me there was nothing to save it from the seemingly certain fate. I put my finger on her chest and pumped ever so softly and gently blew into her nose and mouth. I repeated that process I learnt in scouts, what then, seemed like only the day before. 30 seconds later I heard a gasp. I froze. Nothing. Starting again, countless seconds passed before I heard her grasp at life again. I started rubbing her body all over trying to stimulate something. The gasps grew more frequent until they transformed into steady breathing.

Finally I breathed for myself.

I am almost afraid to leave them, but they are in safe hands and I can rest easy that they are only two minutes away if anything else were to go wrong.

The Return of the Show

2007-05-16T22:35:00.000-04:00

St. Lucia Jazz has come and gone. But the bigger story is that the jazz has come back. No longer just another Caribbean music festival, it can truly boast to be a Jazz Festival once again. Friday night however was John Legend. The man has skills. Until you see him live, you won't appreciate the talent behind the production.

Saturday's main stage show boasted Al Jarreau & George Benson, Gerald Albright with Norman Brown Package & Maysa, local jazz superstar Ronald 'Boo' Hinkson & Friends, and Thunder Box with special guest Steven Segal - yes, THAT Steven Segal - on lead vocal and guitar. Talk about a day to talk about.

Worth Quoting.14

2007-05-16T08:37:00.000-04:00

"I am beginning to feel guilty about not feeling guilty."
Edda, on what she does for a living

Clean up on aisle 2

2007-05-08T00:09:00.000-04:00

I realised today what I must accept mentally if I am to succeed... nay, at least to function physically. A part of my own history gives the best anecdote for the current chapter. As a warehouse worker many moons ago, I was one of two certified forklift operators. I took pride in my skill to maneuver the metal beast through fragile environments. It was a joy and a challenge, a skill and a job. Mostly a job. Move this from here to there. Don't get fancy. Don't break anything. That's it. Thanks.
Now as graphic designer in an agency, I find that with all the training, education, experience and aptitude for something better, I am still that forklift operator. Turn these words into pictures. Don't get fancy. Don't think. Thanks.
I am coming to terms with the fact that the more I bring, the more I lose. I am not a creative resource, I am a machine operator. For the sake of the work and my sanity from eight in the morning to five in the evening, this is my reality.
This career is becoming just another job.

Hold it open

2007-05-02T08:56:00.000-04:00

Yesterday was a good day.
The yard was cleared and cleaned. The dishes were cleaned and cleared. The day was... well, you get the idea. We took the bikes out for a round-the-island in the afternoon. The new baby (yet to be named) performed. very. well.... very. well.
It was a good day.

Worth Quoting.13

2007-04-19T12:47:00.000-04:00

"Will you still regret me in the morning?"

Because it's been too long

2007-04-16T08:01:00.000-04:00

How is everything on your side of the monitor? Life here is still something of a paradise, but can get trying at times. I am wondering how long I can stay in the same job, at the same company... I've been here over 4 years now (a record for this nomadic soul) and although it looks like an upward move is in the works, I don't know for sure. Some days I am just too tired/fed up to care, the challenges not being worth the stress. But then there are those days when it seems to make perfect sense... ah well. I am rambling now.
My cousin is getting married next june in MD and I really hope to make it up to be there for her. If we do go up you can be certain a trip trough FL is mandatory ;)
Right now I'm hoping my baby is pregnant (dog, not wife LOL) and trying to finish off another level of certification in my scuba diving. Other than that, it's pretty much the same old same old.

Fun in the sun

2007-03-22T08:11:00.000-04:00

A sand sculpture I did for a turtle watch documentary last month. I'll try to get a clip of it in the actual footage later.

The babies

2007-02-26T15:51:00.000-04:00

Empress Dhara

Dhara cleaning her teeth

Buddha doing the same

Lovey Dovey... or something like it

They really are posers

Buddha is bored

Sleepy time down south

Vroom

2007-02-26T11:22:00.000-04:00

I finally took some glamour shots of the new ride. Presenting my Suzuki GSX-R600K4, streetfighter edition of course!

What made you smile today?

2007-02-20T21:17:00.000-04:00

I actually remembered my rainsuit this morning despite the brilliant sunshine. While at the ATM it started raining, so I pulled it out and put it on, donned the helmet and headed back out in the downpour to the new ride. I felt like Superman changing in the booth. It made me smile.

Why.

2007-02-20T20:55:00.000-04:00

It's been a while.
*NEWS*
-Last Friday I finished my new bike (custom GSX-R600K4 streetfighter - pictures coming soon).
-Monday was our six month anniversary.
*END NEWS*

Last night and in to this morning I realised my time was being wasted at work. My time, talent, creativity, experience and patience. I want to do the work, but the outcome is becoming not worth the effort. The saddest part is that the powers that be don't seem to notice. And it's not just me. I give the required and then some, I answer every request beyond the call, and yet every output seems to come to naught.

And I ask myself, "why do I bother?"

Probably the same reason this is the only area I make sure I use proper grammar, punctuation and capitalisation. I don't respect the machine enough to care that it 'thinks', but I do respect the viewer, so I bother.

Which is why I can't give into the apathy at work, why I do bother... and why it bothers me. I know what I want to do, but still to be determined is what I need to do. And how. And when. And most importantly

why.

Will you...?

2007-02-13T11:09:00.000-04:00

A few weeks ago my cousin got engaged in fine style, on her first open water dive in the Bahamas. Congrats T.

Tuesday.

2007-01-30T10:03:00.000-04:00

This morning I opened my eyes, and my first emotion was dread. I shut them and returned to the dream where I was commander of six million nanobot warriors. Our latest mission of entering my home's structure and defeating the termite intruders was going well, I relished in the sweet taste of the oncoming victory.
"Sir, the bugs are no more."
"Gather the bodies, we don't want the stench attracting reinforcements."
BZZT! BZZT! BZZT! Security breach! Alpha Unit, cover the entrances! Will someone turn off that infernal alarm!
I was awake again. My army was gone. The dread had returned. For those times you think twice, or twenty times, about clocking in, some days you feel sluggish, others you are unmotivated. But today was more than that. I had no trouble with starting the day in general, I had trouble with starting a day that would lead me to work. It has been a while since I last felt completely turned off about going to the office from my first lucid thought. Nothing to do with the creative challenge, or any other that may arise, but a simple yet utter dislike for the space it seemed to come to represent. You get to the point of willing events of mass destruction and natural disasters, just so you can go anywhere but 'there'.
Then Buddha licks my face and makes the motions that he really needs to go outside. I think of worse places I could have to approach than work. It gets me out of bed, but I think I'll carry the attitude. It'll give me the safe quiet little world I need so as not to hurt anyone ('s feelings, at least). Buddha, Dhara: go pee you hyper bastards. And run. A lot.
Go chase a butterfly you stupid mindless anorexic kitten!!!

Floater Diaries.002

2007-01-29T15:39:00.000-04:00

While "resetting the cache" yesterday I was reflecting at the past fortnight during which I contracted and defeated two very different strains of flu viruses. This first was met with a hearty battle for dominance. The second came upon me like Paris' arrow. I was on my back, utterly useless for just over 24 hours on Friday. I marvelled at my luck in attracting these viruses in such close succession, but even more so, the ability to pass them through so quickly, each so completely opposite in method; the only common denominator being no medications. I say "method" because I consciously decided how I was going to treat each cold as I found myself afflicted - to fight one and to surrender to the onslaught of the other.

Now my wife is sick with the latter of my enemies, but determined to use the former of my strategies. It's hard to watch, but what can you do? She sees me walking normally just three days after falling almost comatose. Now she cries, writhing, fighting the pain being inflicted by the millions of microscopic invaders. I want to say accept the pain, relax in the burning heat, give in to the dementia, this is part of the process. But it is her nature to fight, regardless the beast at her door. So what do you do but let it be. In the end, we will have both survived, and thus both won our battles in our own ways. I ignored her remedies and she would ignore half of mine. Makes no difference. Only time knows or cares when it is all done.

It now occurs to me that we treat each other how we want to be treated. We say it as much in words, but we really put it out there in action. When I was down, I just wanted a bottle of water always full at the bedside and to be left alone with me nemesis. See you in the morning. That's pretty much how I treat people who are physically sick and working on it. Give them what they need, and get out of the way. I'll pat you on your back when you get out and say, "way to fight it", regardless of how you recovered. Others will bring you everything they think you need and want and make sure you know it's there. Every twelve minutes. Unless you're sleeping. And when they're infirm, you know the rest. What happens when you have one of each, in their respective extremes, facing the same situations, reversed within mere hours of each other?

It's only funny if you can extract your mind from it, believe me. See you on the other side of sick.

Duh.

2007-01-19T16:32:00.000-04:00

Forgive the obvious nature of this simple revelation, but I've just discovered the "secret" to my own personal success. If you gain from this, great... hope it sends off fireworks in your day too.
I work (design and write) in an advertising agency. A positition that is related to almost entirely on my creative ability. Always knew it's what I wanted to do professionally.
I used to think that to be a great success I had to be brilliant at my work (which I love, thankfully) and everything would fall into place. Then I became unhappy with my outside-of-work creativity. I thought perhaps I was using it all up at work and leaving nothing for play time, so I started trying less at work to see if I could keep some in reserve for fun (the theory made sense without that crucial second thought). Instead, I became unhappy at work as well. So I pulled away even more from 'the office' and dedicated myself to regaining the light on my own terms. Ironically I found it in everything I did EXCEPT my art and writing.
The "secret" was so simple it should be embarassing to admit having found it, impying that it was not known in the first place. My creativity was not the issue, my ability to let it flow was. There is a balance between the need to make a good living, and a need to be in control or one's creative freedom. Since my creativity is tied to my income generation, I lost focus of it. I lost the distiction required to keep business from pleasure, so to speak. I started to equate my creativity at work with MY creativity. Thus I lost the self awareness and subtly began to identify myself through what I do, instead of who I am.
I'm not sure if or how being aware can be the singular cure-all for my recent apathy, but I feel as though some essence within has been recharged.