Personal Standards

Everyone has their own sets of beliefs for different aspects of their lives. How they conduct their intimate affairs, their professional life as well as their social life. Different rules apply depending on the area of focus. And whatever standards people set for themselves should be respected as such, and the people around them exist peacefully.

I usually have one rule where standards are concerned: that everything about a person’s life is their choice and subject to opinions/ scrutiny,  EXCEPT, how they conduct their personal affairs. That leaves if they break any laws, infringe on any other human being’s rights and their professional conduct, they can be publicly held accountable. 

I could also say above all else, that if they broke the Laws of God as well, they are to give an account; but I have little wisdom and I am just like everyone else; ergo no room or justification to judge: so I don’t bother wasting my time judging.

But it then means that everything else about that person’s life can be viewed and some feedback generated/ opinion formed. Either way, as long as it not personal or a crime (both extremities), the individual may choose /not to value your opinion any at all. They may understand it and even entertain it, but you are being foolish to expect without fail, that they alter their standards at your say-so.

Which brings me to the crux of the matter: if your standards seem to make me feel anything like inferior or pressured, then I am not as secure as I thought and I have placed an unnecessarily great amount of power in your hands over my emotions and how I feel about myself. Most importantly; this has nothing to do with you either. You exist peacefully with your standards but for some reason, they make ME feel insecure; that is not something you can change. I have to be conscious of myself, everything there is to know about me I should know; change what I can and accept what I can’t change. IT’S ALL ME. You are just the trigger/fuse that illicits the response I give; but it’s all me.

In short, we must choose our reasons to be selfish carefully. Be so selfish; you are conscious of you, what is happening around you and what reaction keeps you real with you.  Be so unselfish also , that you focus on what really matters at the end of the day, how you wish to honour your short time living on this earth and your legacy (fitting in will never get you remembered, as you then never stand out) left behind when you die, even the little things matter.

People should be afforded the right to live by their standards without being side-lined or isolated by the many followers of the norm. Respecting people’s right to choose is the crux of many of society’s problem, for another blog, and it begins with us as individuals. 

I have said my piece on the matter.

Until then: express yourself and as long as you do not infringe on anyone else’s rights/ stsndards purposefully, continue to do you!


Modern Day Terrorism: Who runs Jamaica’s Night-life?

Having recently watched a video on the pains and many infringes of human rights of many born in North Korea, I heaved a sigh of relief to have been born in Jamaica. The tearful speaker is about my age, and her comment ‘one should not be victimised because of where they were born’ stuck with me.

Mark you: I have just since prayed/ spoken to God before relaxing into pre-RM mode: half awake, half seeking sleep, when it happened. In the dead of night, for no explicable reason, I heard enough gunshots to have warranted a mini war. My question is ‘for/ over what?!’ For one who lives and functions in day time Jamaica, night for me, is for sleep. But no, the gunshots shot my eyes wide open, as they sounded as though in my backyard. Whilst saying some more words to God in my heart (in case they be my last) I couldn’t help but feel outraged.

Where are these people getting guns that Jamaica does not make? They sounded high power enough rather than hand-made and again I questioned to what end? If I as a Daywalker (I am going to adapt that term for this piece’s purposes) have no part or knowledge of what goes on in hours presumed for sleep; then who does? Someone has to!!! And what of those who live closer to these thugs and are even more frightened the any given night may be their last? Who funds these thugs getting these guns and why aren’t we as citizens helping authorities more to confiscate these guns? Do you know how traumatic it is to be startled awake by a machine that was not made for animals or aliens in the first place?  #SighOfFrustration

What’s worst: criminals know of the fear incited by guns, which got me thinking, this is how they subdue those around them from ‘squealing‘ to the authorities. Everywhere in Jamaica should be safe, not just some places. Not only some sections of Kingston and St. Andrew should be heavily protected whilst other areas are left to fend for themselves. It portends that those heavily protected control these Nightwalkers (opposite profession to Daywalker) and even fund / encourage their activities. How do you ensure that killers don’t visit your neighbourhood, huh? How do you keep them distracted so they forget to come after you? Whomever you are, know this, a true Psychopath has no friends.

Back to the narrative at the beginning: Jamaica is not much different from North Korea, it is just that whomever dictates Jamaica’s nightlife is heavily guarded and immune from the horrors that they could very well be strengthening. No amount of assistance can stop crime, if each citizen negates their duty to make the country safe for everyone, cowers and just seems to protect their own heads/asses. If citizens had joined efforts and stayed committed to them; criminals would either have no power, or they would concede to kill every last one of the just citizens. And when we are all dead, they kill each other. But no one wants to put their heads on the block. 

And yes I am saddened and enraged that mothers and girlfriends relinquish their power to these thugs, sweethearts, somehow or another, you will get caught in the cross fire, wouldn’t you rather it be for a worthy cause at day’s end? 

And my charismatic, youthful and ambitious Prime Minister has lost lustre in my eyes, when Security budget was cut: What the budget-nation is that about? Eerrm, you can be blase about the crime situation because perhaps you have never been threatened by the sound of gunshots, repeatedly and on an escalating scale. But by cutting Security budget; you are telling citizens you don’t care if they get a good night’s rest, (even if they have to be up early in the morning; to go to a job that barely pays the bills and they have little coverage or protection). Come on man, wake up!!! All of us!!! People’s lives are more precious than money and power, or whatever else attracts the nightlife. I am utterly disappointed in all governments, for failure to prioritise everything but citizens livelihoods and I am equally disappointed in my fellow men for giving into these thugs. Thugs who push their thumbs up against the government in clear contest: let’s see who really runs this country. P.s. the thugs are ahead in this contest and that is more than disheartening for citizens who have a sense of service to country.

Either way, I am sick of hearing gunshots, and it matters not where you go (nor should it matter so). I look forward to formulating an answer to everyone who tells me otherwise. This must stop!!! Government and citizens must work alike, without rest for this to stop. So like the girl in that video, I have tears on my heart for a country being laid to waste that we were given to share and enjoy.

Suicide: Beautiful Escape or Societal Deformity?

Young people are contemplating suicide more and more these days, who cares? Some may even reason, what harm does it do if they never actually do it? I say: The thought is just as bad as the action they sometimes hope they have the courage to perpetuate.

From experience, there is no comfort in the fact that suicide may be, even if as last resort, for an expansive people, it does not reflect well on our future. Not that I am one of the expressive type, but knowing expressive type individuals, who too, complain of the inability to find at least one person to talk to or that they do find that person, however, it’s hard to explain exactly what is going on inside their heads. Which leaves all of us to handle these problems by ourselves. In short, whether one is loud or quiet, haven’t we all felt that despair of not having single person in this world to talk to? This I think is at the base of what drives us to that final, fatal act of suicide. Personally, I could do with a personal therapist. 

For a world of 7 Billion and counting, it says something is utterly wrong with us, when we can find no one to talk to, trust and rely upon in our darkest moments. Most of us, if fortunate, are rather met with usury, rape, abuse, victimisation, and the list goes on. How can youth feel any better about themsleves when their mothers, who should provide for them, put them out to be prostitutes, which no one wants to talk about. How can youth feel akin to any civic vision, when the society locks them into one menial role, seeking to clip their wings before they even think of spreading them? How can they trust people masquerading as mature adults, who sing one song, but do a different dance? Closing doors when they should be opening and extending? How much do you expect a youth to know, when they have only been taught one thing?

 We are too busy using each other, rather than to bond and strengthen each other. We are alone in each of our own worlds and powers that be only consult the youth, when it suits their own ends and personal gains. No wonder youth hate promises, but we sure hear enough and still see nothing happening. Don’t castigate us as youth; we certainly didn’t ask to be here, yet here we are and we should be thankful with the few scraps we get thrown; bound to starve unless we employ our own means. We did not invent poverty and injustice, but we reflect well, something society frowns upon. Youth of today are different, we are not meant to be hypocrites and two-faced liars.

Anyway, enough of the country and its desolate state and the dreary backdrop, and over to me and my brush with suicide.

I have reached a point, where upon having courted suicide ideation for so long (since high school), all that is left for me to do is that one brave act. The fact that I am still here bespeaks much cowardice. 

Where one has a great void that no indulgence seems to fill (sorry Religious Famastics,even that failed too) then all too soon you start seeing everything behind marred stygian lens. Where the colour of pain, anger, abuse & hatred decorates your sight and your images are thus filtered. This is strengthened by bigots who abuse their power and authority, forcing you to make choices and crucifying for the same choices, when they gave you no recourse. Everyone wants something from the youth, but it is too much for us to ask for simple, basic things in return.

What’s worst: who can you tell these thoughts too? Bigots? Abusers? Those who think you are too young to know worth and to want that  worth for yourself? That they themselves claimed when they were your age? Or those who simply tell you to suck it up and not complain? Either way, left to our own devices, as young people, we often defy odds out of sheer rebellion, which is characteristic of us, or we can conform and become shells or sponges for those around us or lastly, we can just decide to colour everything the way we are it, so others see it that way. Which is what youth have been doing, and if we happen upon some self- indulgence along the way, it may mean that we don’t fancy dying today, but we are not exactly thrilled at the prospect of a future we are not integral in building.

To Society: Enough with saying the youth are the future when we are marginalised and hardly consulted. Too many youth are chosing death rather than living in this country but our heads are too far up our own individual asses to care to invest the time, energy and resources in mending what’s broken. To the youth who survive, by whatever means, society will have created miracle workers and equally, or even more, a vicious and even more self-serving populace.

Living in a Depressed State…

1. Why are there so many more young people, expressing thoughts of suicide at least once in their lives? 

2. Does this mean we will have a greater population of unsound minds on our public streets, an endangerment to themselves and others ?

Yes, as a young person I have pondered on the above questions, and many more to same effects. I believe what I am seeing and it does create a stygian picture of our future, if the answers/ active solutions are not forthcoming, inclusive, strategic and deployed with a sense of urgency. What is even more frightening, is that this reality could be closer than we think and is in spite of claims of economic growth and increased this and that…. 

I believe how we should address root problems, is zooming on the factors that affect everyday life choices, feelings etc; realities that are not getting talked about, in any way to reach our youths, who are purportedly the future, that not many seem in a rush to reach out to. As it is now, more than one youth feels sidelined and excluded; alienated as a citizen in their own country. It is simply impossible to ask the youth, in a few years to come; to live in a future they did not help in shaping as they desired. Or, to ask them to contribute to a cause they were not consulted on or cannot relate to. In some respect, too, evolution must also be respected when dealing with generation gaps and not resort to/ approached in the same archaic way we are uses to in the handling of affairs.

Until we do that, our youth will bend until they break, and/or rebel; doing what they please with no sense of patriotism and at the same time no sense of individualism. Youth of this era (millenials and beyond) are not people to be boxed in and limited, abd too many young people are feeling the constant sense of being used, especially with only scars to show for this usory, even now as I speak and we all go about our lives. How we treat youth and attempt to impress upon them says more about the perpetrator than the youth themselves. 

Back to the Depressive state of the country. 

Does Jamaica need a Depression Centre? Yes. (It is long overdue, if you asked me). Disconnected families, relationships lead to bigger problems. Frankly, the youth have enough on their plates than to have to live in a society where they only make up numbers, and are treated as I described above. Where their dreams or aspirations don’t matter, to anyone at all. They jave to learn to fight and sometimes fight dirty (cutting off someone else). What does that day, again, about our value system and how we will thrive as a society?

I walk on the streets, I see people going about their businesses in an almost robotic state. Talking to young people, seeing and experience first hand how they are treated, and I see clearly that many are unhappy and sometimes, cimoketely defeated. To feel defeated, especially at such a young age, is especially worrisome. How could they not feel defeated though? When they had to learn early to be their own cheerleaders and caretakers? And it is after they have defied the odds ans suffered and sacrificed, that society bats an eye. This behaviour by society does more harm than good. Honestly,  instead of hearing stories of achievers how they would have gone to bed hungry as they made sacrifices, I would have been more moved when the case would have been that their relatives and community support them, even with a meal, or a word of encouragement,  rather than the naysaying, discouraging and slandering that the adults are herein infamous for. Yes these trials build character for these individual youth, but what does it say about our sense of community and patriotism??? And at what sacrifice to put youths who then become mature adults?

Me asking the questions above, certainly does not mean I have the answers. 

And on the heels of Depression and feeling defeated, comed suicide (well more attempts, anyway), which as we all know is not the youth really wanting to die, but wanting to bring an end to the sense of cyclical doom; it will become more inviting, not because the youth are weak, but because for many they have already (and unfortunately) experienced a symptom that was referred to as, a loss of vitality (thank you Andrew Solomon). It is with a defeated spirit and no more will to fight or brave elements, that many chose this way out. To end pain they had difficulty getting someone to really listen to and empathize with  (which is another story for another time).

As a youth, it is worrying, the Depressive state of affairs out country is in.


Not Afraid: 2

At some point in life; one finds themselves utterly and completely alone; by purposeful isolation. But it also usually comes at a point when important decisions are to be made for one’s lives. The reality though, is that since no one else can make those decisions other than oneself, and whilst tacklinf sais decisions, which don’t usually come at the highest points of one’s life,the reality is that it is a road for only one person and each person has their own such road. Being alone undoubtedly, whilst navigating these life circumstances and aim to make the best decisions can make inviteone’s most crippling fears to the party. Well, why not?

Too often, I find myself in situations that continue to alter the course of my life; a curse of living in constant anxiety. From the fear of stepping on someone’s toes, of displeasing or disappointing someone (from very early); to the  realization that this fear induced isolation will ensure and has ensured that I remained alone, most of the time. Allow a couple years for such art to be mastered, and I am alone, all of the time (even in the thickest crowd or the company of those who I may say, managed to enthrall me). Essentially, my life became a constant state of that: wondering how to please someone, whomever mattered to me at the time and was in my life in some impressionable way. By the time I was a teenager, it was simply singling out all of the persons whom I had to please,which sadly became the outlook of my life and the work that I needed to do. Taking care of and providing for parents, close friends, every relative who felt that because they helped rearing me that I should somehow one day pay them back. It was a recipe for hell, which I believe gives me some authority to speak on the subject. It is hell on earth, living/ existing only to learn to take notes on how to please people. People, whom it was expected that should have invested time to guide you; only to find out they may have just kept you in their lives; tolerated you, only to use you in every possible way they could. As a young mind, when you find that your closest contacts expect more out of your young years than what you even expected of them, it really gets you thinking. But still, I had them, so I wanted to please them.

Again, it is at this age, after having spent years, being alone and afraid, that it rang home, that my most insistent purpose, was to serve as a constant and painfully persistent reminder of the worst moments of another’s life, a tragedy, disappointment a hindrance and an inconvenience. Only now, naturally, after those anxieties have been ingrained in me (no doubt) did I realise I was anxious for all the wrong reasons, for all my life. Now I realise that these wrong reasons never helped me, nor did they make me immune to any of the fears that I encountered in real life, that I would have spent time being anxious (scratch anxious, try terrified) of. No help was this constant terror, to thicken my skin to meet a world where it’s not just my parents and family (who come to think of it, had slightly more reason to); but strangers too, who would take their pot shots at trying to create their own expectations of me, shape me to their mold and dare to judge me, when I disappointed? 

I have now lamented graciously about being alone all these years, and it not having made me any less afraid of aloneness, and skip to what actually tipped the scale.

Action, not just Fear.

This brought to life my fears. Reality of life made my fears more than scenarios in my head, but scenarios that actually played out (no one is paranoid without some cause). In the action phase, I see people set me up to fail or as pawns to take their blame, people take advantage of my naivety, take advantage of the fact that I was impressionable. I have seen people use me for their own gain; but not before they soon sold me a twisted story about how I am better off doing the ‘right thing’, how it is even commendable, that I young think so mature. I would have seen me losing people I used to think meant everything to me, and surprisingly I am still alive. I would have seen me revisit some of my beliefs (some to my detriment, yes, but again I still live) and experience everything from sheer exhilaration to constant chastisement and being ostracized.

I chose my recourse to keep my anger to fuel the drive of eradicating the anxiety, as that drive was better than having to take a panic attack from thinking all sorts of scenarios.

Having now achieved the state of not being afraid, but angry instead, I will not say I chose the lesser of two evils, but it is a more or less comforting way, to navigate the harsh realities of simply living.

I know people with anxiety, more acute anxiety, and I know that sometimes they too wish they could choose their evil, of the two. To be fearless to make decisions, that even though they may have repercussions, they have the semblance of self,even if no one else agreed, to stand by their choices, boldly. That’s my place now.

I have been through my fair shair, and with my destination ahead, I can truthfully say no longer does anxiety born of fear, dictate my decision. Don’t triumph too quickly, there is still ways to go..


The Way I am……

It is important to accept who I am- flaws and all. This means there will never be that time when anything you tell me about myself (based on what tou think you knoq about me) surprises or offends me. Trust me; you do not know nearly enough about my heart and its hopes and intentions; the way I have come to (which I found is a daily discovery process). You have not the slightest clue (the same way I have none about you) about what I have been through, what struggles I have overcome, what pretty precarious situations I have managed to come out with little scathing; or even what lengths I would have gone to in the past (and what lengths I am capable of going if given incentive to!). You have no idea what I am capable of; as I myself am learning this daily, full discovery of which I definitely will not share.

I outlined the disparity between self knowledge and others’ perceptions above; to cementize my notion, that no one has the right to judge me (or anyone else) or make pronouncements over my life; especially when they have never set out to know me. How can you label me, speak your pronouncements on my future, when you have never lived a day inside my world, or loved for a day like I love, using my heart, my thoughts?

If I say I dislike someone and what they represent; more often than not, it would have been that person in question and what they represent would have imposed/ grated on me and what I represent. I may even say I hate persons, and  believe me I am convinced I do; where these people do not stand a chance of redemption if it is left solely up to me (and I am sure there exists some who share same sentiments towards me). Am I imposing on these people? (yes, I know they exist and who they are!) No. 

The way I am can be vengeful at times; which lends itself to not the sadistical side of me that likes to inflict pain, but the intellectual side that argues that experience is an integral part of learning and knowledge. Any information, concept taught this way would certainly have longer lasting impact on one’s consciousness. This impacts how one’s brain (primitive organ that it is), guides us to act and react. Simply put, I am no longer the biggest fan of artificial intelligence or intelligence abstractly learnt. The human factor from that type id intelligence is missing; and unless, one intends to deal primarily with robots, I think we all need a crash course in how to approach and respond to put fellow men, who are no less not more than we be. The vengeful brute in me dictates that if someone knowingly inflicts pain in any way on me, naturally a part of me is in torturous unrest until I can create a likewise experience for that person. Not just to get even, but I desperately want this person to see how possibly painful their actions were to me (I want them to truknget it). Only so can I regrettably accept any apologies or the like, and only so can I move on to make way for growth between myself and that person (whoever it is). And I would have gone to pathetic lengths in the past to achieve this, not to quench my thirst for blood (only) but to remind that person, that anything they are fearful of or passionate about, may not be the same for me; but we both can feel dear,hurt and have passion. Do we all currently think so? Obviously not (#rolls-eyes)

It is simple, I am an unfinished project, continuously working on me to be better versions of me. Sounds easier said that done, when half the time I feel as though I have the reigns and control over every circumstance in my life only to receive eye-opening curveballs. Sometimes too, my respond is not the best or even most desirable, and even this I have to learn to accept and move past; otherwise I would join the long line of #suitors that already hate me. I am too jealous for that and I do not fancy competition, real or perceived.

Months elapsed since my last post, and you’re probably wondering: this is what she comes with? Seriously? (and here I go trying to pretend I know my readers…)

Yes. Seriously.

“Cause I am whatever you say I am, if I wasn’t, then why would you say I am?”                    – Eminem

“What I portray is not enough for you to conclusively say you know all, or even enough, about me. What you see is only the part of the story I wish to share, so what you see is true; but you don’t have the last day over me.”                                                     – Ci’laene

Cleaning out my Closet

Cleaning the closet has to start with you and be something you want to do. Cleaning your closet is for your benefit: to expose your deepest fears, pain and insecurities to yourself, admit  them then own them; and to claim  your mistakes and faults. It’s for you to dig up old talents and knacks that you forsook as life got more demanding and yes, it is to throw away all those things that have gathered dust and moth . What is gathering dust and moth in the Closet of your mind?

In my mind, I confront and admit my deepest fears of ever trusting anyone (yet I will believe unfailingly in the good in them; objectively), of ever loving too much (and the hypocrite I am, I demand full, undiluted and all consuming love) and of failing everyone around me. It is a crippling fear of mine to be perceived or labeled a failure, disappointment or ungrateful. Simple solution, I start eliminating the importance of many in my life; if they don’t  matter , then it does not matter what they say. It no longer cripples me to fail or disappoint anyone but myself. The process works, as long as you keep up the mantra and  stayinduced with the inner you. I also confront what makes me anxious, apprehensive, defensive; but more so, anything that makes me want to retreat further into my safe shell (ter). I open my closet to see ALL I have gathered and stored over time; even my mistakes and vengeful/ spiteful acts, which makes me feel chagrined by my own behaviour ( though I will say they were just, warranted, at that time, in my own twisted and self righteous way).

I own all of those thoughts, actions and words that make me turn in my own grave (while living) when I take the time to recap. Did I do that? Yes, I did . Am I proud? Not always. Do I still love me after having some all the abominables? Yes. Do you still love me? NO (That is assuming you did in the first place. Especially if you have been wronged or cheated by me). Am I sorry? Sometimes (only if you were innocent and spotless through it all.) Does it matter that you hate me now? NO (I would have apologized to all I have wronged who have been completely honest in the matter. Everyone else, it is a case of stand off: you hate me; I more than abhor you. In fact, I sometimes wish I could cut off my tongue rather than speak to you and gorge out my eyes rather than make eye contact with you. You have all become unimportant ; on this I am #UNAPOLOGETIC). 

I also, sometimes, for a brief moment, take off and park, the hat that my inner bitch wears, and I don the scarcely worn one of that young person that is still struggling to find footing in an unstable world; amidst all the pain she has suffered (as have many others). That hat is hardly worn (hence, usually dusty) but was still given a special/sacred place in my closet and has even taken root in the foundation of the closet. Of course, borne of my fears is my good ‘ole insecurities, that too are hardly risen to the light but are debilitatingly rooted, nonetheless. Deeply and strongly entrenched and ingrained, these twins are (the bitch and the naive). In that part of my closet, I look to those who always promise and say they’ll be there for me, like ‘Where you at?’. Where is that strong and dependable shoulder I was assured that I can cry on? They were false promises (seductively given) yet empty and null at the appointed  time. 

In my closet, I see my hidden talent in writing. I see me penning thoughts, ideas and even just arguments to be presented boldly; and I wonder when did that boldness dim. I see me giving myself therapy through how I expressed my feelings and gave them an outlet; until I got too tired to even think past how increasingly tired I was and had become, since the last time that talent shone through. I saw how those sessions with pen and paper, helped me to vent, straightened my backbone, mostly because I awed myself that I could be so coherent; despite everyone saying (and treating me) like an indecisive, incapable, unintelligent scatterbrain, who cannot form the most miniscule of thoughts for herself; so much that I had to adopt others personalities to make an impact. Little did I understand that people will label and treat you in a way that makes them feel less threatened and more powerful. I am not going to argue this point now, there will be other opportunities to make my claim and state my cause.

I am throwing away everything that I have been accused of without any trial (much less a fair,unbiased one). That even though no courtesy was shown, I felt honour bound to clear my name and state my side of the story. I say ‘SCREW YOU‘ to everyone who doesn’t think I am worth more than cheap accusations and unfair labels, like b*****, who are you for me to sit and explain my entire life to you (which does not guarantee you will see my side any at all)? The last I checked GOD was not hiring out HIS position .All this had taken up enough space in my closet, that none of the owners deserved nor proved worthy for. ALL is being thrown out like the useless garbage they are, whose value is to only be a refuge for dust and moth.

Cleaning out my closet (I am not anywhere near finished, but I know what is to be done, even if it takes my entire life , no one will do it for me, I have to want this for myself), is where I am and will remain good enough and strong enough for me, as only I can do that. Everyone else only wants claims in your life with no substance or feel justified in using you as they have an inkling and GOD forbid you ask them to reciprocate. Well I am GOOD ENOUGH despite what you think, say and judge me by. I AM MY OWN HERO. My brilliant and poor choices are all made with me in mind, you may forget me but I am too memorable to myself. My closet contains too much to be easily terminated.

I drew inspiration from another to title this publication.

Have you ever been hated or discriminated against? I have. I been protested and demonstrated against.” – Eminem

“I done seen enemies become friends, on the account of discriminating , criticising, ostracising me and building cases  and boundaries- all in their effort to box me in. -Ci’laene