*Phew*

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

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

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

Clean up on aisle 2

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

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

"Will you still regret me in the morning?"

Because it's been too long

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

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

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

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

What made you smile today?

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.

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...?

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

Tuesday.

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

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.

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.

Worth Quoting.12

"If you accept the pain, it cannot hurt you."
Hugh MacLeod, gapingvoid: "cartoons drawn on the back of business cards"

Worth Quoting.11

"My tears do not compromise my strength."
Woman in 2007 Kleenex "Want to talk?/Blue sofa" campaign.

Worth Quoting.10

"Of all the things you could be, why predictable?"
Me, to [anon.] in a less-than-challenging conversation.

Floater Diaries.001

While "dropping the kids off to the pool" this evening, I noticed there was part of a pattern in the floor tiling that looked like the pope greeting the masses from the balcony. Not the facial recognition type of look-a-like, but more of the general concept. You know the figure in draped robes with arms outstretched, slightly leaning back, soaking in the moment. Come on, I am sure every pope has to have done that at least once. After all, they are only human. I'll try to get a shot of that sometime when a camera graces its presence.