This is my 4th Christmas in foreign and my first without any family members around *sob but not really* This year I actually chose it that way–it’s been really hectic and I just didnt feel for the travel, the hustle and bustle, the present-buying, the visiting family every day chaos (all of which I usually love) tra-la-la. 

So yes, I made the decision–no one to blame but myself. And but for one mini-meltdown when I couldnt find a Christmas tree to my liking, I’ve been pretty good. I’m still looking forward to the almost 2 weeks of peace and quiet and sloth-like do-nothingness. 

But we’ll see when the day comes. I havent had a Christmas in foreign that didnt start or end with bawling yet and I’m hoping this year will break the trend. Hopefully I’ve exorcised my demons and can just enjoy it for what it is–happy alone time with the bf so I can recollect and start the new year fresh– and not lament what it isnt–not home, not pastelles, not bringin out d ham, not soca santa, not parang (which I’ve grown to love–absence making the heart grow fonder and what not), not family, not warmth (you know, just in case you were wondering). A Trini Christmas will always be the best, but I have a feeling this one will be pretty good too.

I’m excited. I feel like I’m ready to embrace it. And the bf is poised to step in should the tears start to flow but I’m working on givin him a break. 

I’ll check back in post-xmas and let you know the verdict.

is online!!

And I think I did a pretty good job with the accent–a little hybrid but decidedly not American. Take that! I could actually stand to listen to my own voice so that says something, no?

Anyways, what ya think? Below are links to the full interview and some of the more interesting break-outs:

Full Interview	listen	download
SOX—mostly for the better	listen	download
Be global, be self aware, and network	listen	download

The Room of One Color, MOMA, NYC

It’s been a crazy, beautiful month. I try to fight it but I’m a sucker for the adrenaline rush. After my first trip to Chicago I was dreading the hectic mess to come. After my second trip to New York I’m just in a really awesome space. Ready to take on the third trip to Florida.

God, New York. Love it.

There’s something about NY that brings out the well-hidden (of-late) independent streak in me. I walk the streets of Manhattan and I’m freakin’ invincible.

I fell victim to the aeroplane gods who decided to test my patience and desire to go to NY (I reaaallly wanted to go) with a 21-hour plane fiasco from LA to NYC. Nonetheless, once I hit the hotel I just jumped in the shower (airport grime) and from then on, it’s been go, go, go. Haven’t stopped yet.

You know when you’re just on?

And you’re hitting it hard and you’re real and connected and you’re authentic and you’re in the zone and it’s all flowing.

Crazy, beautiful flow.

That sums up my trip to New York. I’m energized, I’m ready to push harder, I’m ready to go balls out.

Space Reversal at the MOMA, NYC

My love affair with New York began during college. My bf at the time was working at the World Trade Center and I visited for two weeks spending whole days wandering the city by myself. So freeing and beautiful.

Dude, I grew up sheltered. Nobody walks in Trinidad–nobody that I knew. There are no subways and taxis are dangerous. I barely knew how to cross the street.

To be in big, bad NYC at 20, walking the mean streets and maneuvering the subway system all by myself… exhilaration. And that crazy, beautiful, NY feeling has stayed with me since.

When I still had dreams of being a fashion editrice a la Anna Wintour I wanted to move to NY after college and “find my way.”

Uh yeh. Hopes dashed midway through my senior semester when the harsh reality of making a living of my own accord hit.

Off to my brother’s house in Miami I went.

Basically, I wussed out.

There’s something about traveling by yourself. I went to NY for work for a conference. Forced into a bunch of situations where I knew nary a soul.

Sink or swim time.

It’s weird, though. If I was there with one other person I knew, I would probably have just been a wallflower and stuck to that one person.

But all by myself, my independent streak emerged and I just pushed it and I truly connected with some great folks.

Crazy, good stuff.

I got to lime with my cousin, her bf, and some other Trinis and use my normal accent. Why don’t I use it all the time? How did I lose it? It’s ridiculous. At dinner one night I began talking in my regular voice and I was so much looser, more relaxed, more natural, more me. Apparently, my hands start flailing. I want that back.

For me, getting my MBA has been a lot more about personal than professional growth. One of my main objectives has been to feel comfortable enough in a business setting to drop my stiff, corporate wall and just let it flow. In the past five years, I’ve allowed that smiling, nodding, eager-to-please corporate persona to somehow invade my personal life and turn me into this shell.

It’s not cool. It took a long time to for me to even figure out what was happening and I’ve spent the past year trying to break it down. Still don’t know why I did it to myself.

It’s a work in progress.

A crazy, beautiful work in progress.

It has been HOTT in LA lately. And when I say hot I mean hot hot hot. Like 95 degrees hot (35 Celcius) in Burbank (by all the network studios) when I went to pick up my cousin. It’s about 10 degrees cooler here in lovely Santa Monica but it’s only 8 freakin 30 in the morning!!!

I love the heat. Feels like home. I tend to find cold weather limiting. Too much clothes. It’s just not natural, no? Before I moved to foreign, I did not own sweatpants. There was no need! Sweat was an every day occurrence. No special pants necessary. A fact of life. You just deal with it and you bathe more often.

LA is hot SOMETIMES but it is ALWAYS DRY. Which means that sweat is an anomaly. I’ve forgotten how to sweat! NO, not really. But it definitely isn’t normal anymore. Weird. I need to invest in more shorts.

People get scared when it’s hot here. In Trini we have bush fires, here it’s brush fires–the desert dryness does not help.

People planning outdoor activities through the weekend should take into consideration the very high temperatures and adjust your activities accordingly. Wear loose fitting light weight clothing and drink plenty of water. Take advantage of shade and air conditioning if available.

Never ever leave children, the elderly or pets in enclosed automobiles, even for the shortest time. Temperatures quickly rise to life-threatening levels, even if the windows are partially opened.

~ abc7.com

Now does that sound to you like the warnings for a population used to sunny, warm temperatures?

To once and for all banish the persisting rumours about hot and sunny all the time LA, read this and now hear this: At our apartment here in Santa Monica, we don’t have AC. Not because our landlords are sadistic devils. THERE IS NO NEED. Three hundred and sixty days out of the year, it is cool enough that you open a window and it is all good. Cool breeze. Cool air. No AC.

365 (a full year) – 360 = 5 days out of the year when it’s hot as balls and an AC starts to sound like a sound investment.

Yeh, you know where I’m going with this. I’m living those 5 days as we speak.

Hot hot hot. Actually I think this is the tail end. Better enjoy it while I still have it.

Tomorrow it will be 60 degrees and grey and I’ll be wearing tights and a scarf and layers (what the hell are layers? I honestly still haven’t really mastered layering. They befuddle me. We’ll discuss at a later date) wondering how LA so fully tricked the world…

L-R: Triniti, Kes, and Maximus Dan (captured by the bf)

It cannot be helped. I am a slave to the dance.

I call this a review of sorts because I’m not a very good recorder of life events. Not in the conventional way at least. It’s not what you would call a strength. I like to say that all I know is in my head. And that’s what this is–a review of what was in my head the night I went to see Kes the Band, Triniti, and Maximus Dan at Temple Bar last Saturday (May 10. 2008).

My childhood in Trinidad may not have been typical, but like any true Trini, I love a good fete. A party. I live for it. And by good fete I mean plenty winin’, dancin’, jumpin up and wavin’ and misbehavin’.

Dance kills the overthink, you know? It’s primal. You just move. You don’t think. You lose yourself in the vibes. You just let the vibes ketch you and you let them take you. It’s pure. It’s vital.

It represents one of the biggest holes in my life here in foreign.

Saturday night was more of a concert than a fete, but it had the same vibe as a good fete, and isn’t that what really matters? Hearing Kes, Triniti, and Maximus Dan in a bar two blocks from my apartment in Santa Monica was the little piece of my home that I was desperately craving.

It was the first time I’d heard all three artists live and they really exceeded expectations. I brought a string of American friends with me and I can’t say I wasn’t a little nervous as to what their reactions might be to Trini music. The beats per minute, as one friend pointed out, tend to be a lot more than the American ear is used to. And I’m not so good at explaining. I honestly don’t think they knew what they were in for, musically. They were probably thinking more along the lines of reggae, Bob-type stuff.

But Trini music? It’s hype, it’s fast, it’s non-stop. To me, it’s so infectious that it’s impossible not to get caught up in the energy. I live for those moments when I am just in it. I was hoping the friends would just “get it” and let it wash over them and love it as much as I do. Luckily, I think they did.

Kes, man, Kes was great. A consummate entertainer. He knew how to work the foreign crowd. He taught them to wine, explained the significance of the legendary soca/ calypso superstars. He made it accessible. All the things that I struggle to express about what being a Trini means to my identity he presented effortlessly on stage. I felt that my friends had the opportunity to learn more about me, the real me, in that one night than a million conversations could ever accomplish.

Do you understand, people? This, to me, is the heart of my Trini-ness. The root. My adolescent years did not consist of going out to bars and getting drunk. I went out and I partied. In the true sense. At least three times a week from the time I was 16 and every summer and Christmas I came home from college. Every Carnival Monday and Tuesday, this is what it was about. In the streets. Chippin’ down the road. I dance. I wine. I sweat. It’s my stress relief, it’s my release, it’s me. This is me. There’s no ambivalence. You start up the music and I’m there. Pure and unadulterated. Do you know how rare that is?

To me, that was the real beauty of the night.

I walked into Temple Bar and Triniti was going, sexy glow stick costume, dancin up a storm and I was gone. It doh take much. Some of the friends had to stop and stare at the dancer girls’ rubber waists but me, I just let the music take over, I let the dance embrace me, and that was all I needed. I was in it.

And Maximus Dan–what a presence. Another one to get the crowd going, but also to get to the heart of the matter. A message worth hearing. Love Generation had to be my favorite (listen to it here).

It’s impossible to live in foreign for any length of time and not see your country and your culture from the view of an outsider. That happened too. And I still loved it. Positive vibes.

I never realized just how happy and positive music from Trinidad is. It’s peace. It’s love. It’s community. It’s family. It’s yay Trinidad! At the end of one song, Kes bawls out: Trinidad, we love you! My friend asks if it was some kind of national, Trinidad song. I thought about it for a sec and told her, actually no, pretty much all songs from Trinidad are about how much we love our country.

In that moment, I reaaallly loved my country. I don’t always. I miss it. But it’s not perfect. At its best, soca music represents the ideal of Trinidad society–how we wish it could be all the time. Happy and dancin’ and lovin’ up and everybody is your family.

My hands were in the air. I was waving my rag (actually, my zip-up) and jumpin and wavin for the whooooooooole night. I went outside to smoke a cigarette and I still couldn’t stop jumping up and down like a mad ass.

Honestly, the amount of in it I was in it probably made me look more like a tourist than a Trini. My winin could probably use a little practice. Now I can admit I was a little over-excited. If my friends from back home were there I might have toned it down a little. But in the moment? I was too in the moment to care. It happens too infrequently for me to study how foolish I look. It wasn’t about that.

It’s funny how it all comes together, no? I start this blog to explore my relationship between me and where I’m from, and here ups and comes an opportunity to do more than just intellectualize it. Far, far, far, away from home, I felt all over again what it means to be a Trini. That hasn’t happened in foreign for a long, long, long time.

All in all, a bess night.

For those of you in LA who missed it, Kes the Band is playing tonight at Molly Malone’s in Hollywood. You should do it.

If you’re in LA, hope to see you there!

Temple Bar
9PM til
$10-Buy tickets here

1026 Wilshire Blvd
Santa Monica, 90401
310.393.6611

Arrrite people, so I have a very serious question for you.

One thing I’ve noticed since I’ve been in foreign is my inability to speak in anything other than the Queen’s English when giving a presentation.

(you know, like Dominic Kalipersad on Panorama back in the day)

Whenever I have to speak in public, it’s like I’m back in front of a classroom, hands clasped at my chest like I’m reciting a poem, and English English English!

It’s the only way!

So here’s the thing…

I’m supposedly conducting an audio interview at the end of the month…

An audio interview that will be posted online from now until eternity…

What do I do?

Okay, so let me give you the full background.

Besides maybe having to control my presentation accent, which is not really the Queen’s English, but a Trini Queen’s English, and totally foreign sounding, which might be good if I were giving a state of the union address for one of the colonies but for an interview something more accessible might be more appropriate.

Yes, so besides that.

Besides that I kind of have the tendency to sound like a six-year old girl.

Like I answer the phone and the freaking telemarketer, in that sickeningly, sappy voice they reserve for kids, asks: “Is your mummy home?”

BAH.

Yes, I love to torture myself.

I actually really enjoy public speaking, although it makes me a nervous wreck.

My first real taste of public speaking was two jobs ago when I started doing training workshops. I was so proud and excited that I was chosen to teach these professionals in the field how to do their job!

Well hear this.

Talk about a step back into reality.

A couple days before the first workshop, my benevolent boss comes around with a NYT article (as he was often wont to do) specially selected for me.

The title?

Wait for it..

…

“My Voice Has Got to Go”

OH SNAP!

Well yeah I can laugh about it now but back then, I, the recent college grad who had not yet developed the tough shell necessary to advancement in the U.S. rat race, went home in a state of shock, which subsequently turned into hysterics. Once the shaking and hysterics subsided, I began to plot my exit strategy.

Anyway, whatevs. Every experience prepares you for the next one and the one thing I can say is that I now know how to stand up for myself and that’s probably one of the most valuable things you can learn in business.

And… back to the story.

Actually wait. Let me put a disclaimer. I really don’t think there’s anything wrong with my voice. I’ve definitely gotten more compliments on my voice than complaints. My students (yup, still tickles me to say it!) always gave me great marks and I truly enjoyed the experience. Who doesn’t love a stage? Yes, the voice is a bit high-pitched, but—in spite of never having read that wretched article (principle)—through sheer bloodymindedness I have learned to gain better control of my lower chords for a fuller, deeper tone.

Okay, now back to the story.

Well, the question.

What should I do?

Should I do what comes naturally? This stiff, Queen’s English, reciting the Constitution type of thing?

Start practicing rounding out my vowels and pronouncing my R’s so I don’t freak anyone out with my weird (to them) foreign sounding voice?

What do you all do?

Even if at no other time, do you try to minimize your accent when you talk in public?

Has your accent gotten you in trouble before?

As in: trouble, feisty, spirited, but mostly trouble. As in you better stand your ground with this one.

Used in a sentence:

But you not easy, eh girl!

Note: If a Trini tells you that someone (e.g. a woman) is “not easy” you can probably bet she won’t be “easy” in the traditional, sexual context. However, “not easy” can be used in many different situations to denote admiration, apprehension, intrigue, in reference to a child, etc), in addition to the traditional, sexual one.

First person to make up a scene around “you not easy” gets five stars!! (my Trini dialogue is laughable and I have too much pride)

Never underestimate the restorative effects of a pedicure and a jalapeño cheese pretzel dog.

~ Me

Now I don’t play to know too much about this topic. I’ve always been here as a legal permanent resident and a green card pretty much entitles you to all the rights of a citizen besides voting and obtaining a U.S. passport.

So my first thought when hearing about May Day was: Who are these immigrants?

• Are they people like me, here legally, and just feel like they’re being mistreated?
• Are they mad because they’re trying to bring their families to the U.S. and can’t?
• Or are they foreigners here illegally who feel like they’re being mistreated and don’t see why they shouldn’t have the rights of U.S. citizens?

My second question, which followed directly from the first, was: What are immigrant rights?

If you’re illegal, is it the right…

• To attend school?
• To be treated in an emergency room?
• To obtain a driver’s license?
• To work legally or for a fair wage?
• To obtain citizenship?

If you’re legal, are you protesting against…

• Racial profiling?
• Discrimination?
• Something else?

Well, it seems like it’s a bit of this and a bit of that and there are at least some people fighting for every one of the above somewhere.

As an immigrant in the U.S., I guess I’ve been living a bit of a charmed life.

I’ve never felt discriminated against as such. I don’t think being Chinese-Trinidadian has ever been held against me. I’ve certainly never been raided by ICE. Sure, people don’t look at me as an “American,” but like I’ve said before, Americans don’t seem to think anyone who isn’t white or black is “American” regardless of their immigration status. I mean, think of what the term “All-American” stands represents. Not me. And it won’t represent my potential, future U.S.-born kids either. No law is going to change that, I feel.

I’ve met so many people with the skills, talent, and motivation that America needs to thrive and grow and they fought (and are fighting) so hard to stay in this country and contribute. Let me tell you, it’s a real crap shoot. I’ve met so many people with the skills, talent, and motivation that America needs to thrive and grow who eventually gave up and moved back home because they just couldn’t find a legal way to stay.

Probably the biggest argument against illegal immigrants is the economic strain they put on the U.S.–their children take up seats in public classrooms, they use emergency rooms as primary care facilities, they take away jobs from legal citizens.

Ok. I get that.

But here’s my thing. The U.S. kind of has its hands tied when it comes to the illegal immigrants, who number around 12 million or so, that are already in the country. They’re not leaving on their own. Kicking them out one by one is an effort in futility that will probably cost more money than the “strain” they’re putting on the economy. Why not just make them citizens, collect their damn taxes, and call it george?

No one wants to reward bad behavior (i.e. illegally entering the country) but I’m not talking principles here. I’m talking economics.

If they’re already here…

If they’re already using our resources…

If they’re not paying for them through taxes…

If sending them back home is not a viable option…

If you can make them law-abiding tax-paying citizens, thereby reducing the strain on the economy…

Well then, why not?

Again, I’m no immigration expert and I’m no economist and I know it’s not the solution to everything, but doesn’t it at least kind of make sense?

More than coming up with solutions, I’m really just asking questions here. Feel free to discuss amongst yourselves.