August 2001

Give me me, give me that distinct piece of food that pleasures me, fills me in and has become me to completion. Give me me, give me you. Give me that peculiar speck of me that can only be known to me as my incomprehensible DNA. Give me, Feed me me...for nothing can compare to the feeling and person of me...nothing.

Do you know how it feels to miss something so much that you look for any way possible to talk about it, smell it when it’s not there, and yearn for it, for reasons sentimental to you? I do, and the thing I miss is I. 

Yes, Me, being me, somebody that is known roughly as my own person, me: Someone that enjoys the things only I enjoy and participates actively in them because only I can get pleasure from them. 

I feel like I am slipping away from an image of myself so much that if I placed my handprint over one that I made maybe last year, it won’t match: it would be distorted, irregular and uncomfortably formed. But it would still be me…but not matching what I want myself to be. 

There was a time last year when I was given a glimpse of an opportunity to meet myself. I lived in England in a house with my friend’s family…a very large family with virtually no rules or restrictions and flowing with lots of love, love, religion and more love. 

Hah! London. I still remember it with a feeling of nostalgia now…I miss it, especially on Sundays. Apart from the fact that this was the only time in my life I was alone and allowed to make decisions for myself on a global scale--- as I always lived with my family, asides from the fleeting moments when I went to college---I lived in a city beautiful and rich in culture, diverse peoples, and wonderful sights, exotic foods and tourists that I inhaled exploration and adventure everyday.

I read books then; I wouldn’t spend my evenings hugging the cable channels like I do now or poring over the computer surfing over good and bad sites alike because we didn’t have Internet, and maybe that was a good thing really. For leisure, I would read a book, educate my mind, enlighten my intellect and build thoughts in case I met up with my friend and her “politically aware” Cambridge college buddies…I would be equipped to challenge them in any political, economic and ecological discussion.

My Sunday itinerary was to wake up a bit later than the rest of the household who went to service, but I being a Catholic had a later service. So I would get up when the last person had left the house, quietly make myself some breakfast, and wait at the bus stop patiently at the end of the block for a bus to take me to church. I would get a day’s bus pass or travel card to assist me in my day’s sojourns. Then, after mass which always lasted for about an hour and a half----and being the last mass of the morning we weren’t rushed out of the church by the waiting parishioners---- I would spend a few private moments by myself, by myself: lighting candles, chatting with the priest, being one with my soul in God’s presence.

When this was done, I would either take the next bus to join my family’s service or I would take the long bus ride to the West End…Oxford street, and it accompaniments. It was always bubbly and full of life, people buzzing along the road, on the buses, carrying their groceries home from the stores; shops filled to the brim with busy buyers and several onlookers, the windows of Selfridges lined with admirers of the exquisitely adorned mannequins. They had a way of defining the word “window shopping” because the wares from boutiques were not confined to the insides of malls but readily displayed for eye candy.

People ate (and other activities) freely and without hassles on the road; you could be sitting next to someone munching on a lettuce, ham and cheese sandwich, and he wouldn’t flick an eyelid at you chomping down a pack of French fries. They had a restless carefree abandon that defined the tone of the city…they loved and appreciated the outdoors so they lived it to the fullest, and appreciated that in being themselves they must not always conform to etiquettes and societal standards but it would keep them calm, invigorated taking in the fresh air of a day in their comfortable boring lives.

I miss that place so much. I remember some afternoons after church we (my friend and I) would take the bus to see a movie…not a very good movie, so to cheer ourselves up we would go for fish and chips in a local pub or sit in a café and make passes at the quiet men lounging on the table opposite us, whilst hugging our miserable cup of coffee. And yes, they would serve you beer without checking your I.D. viciously because they could tell we did look old and responsible enough.

Then, we would stroll along Leicester Square and watch the billboards light up the street announcing the numerous operas and premieres scheduled for that week, or to Soho where all the Chinese people who lived in London would suddenly converge in just one spot to share their culture in their little piece of England. They would sit on the streets; play music loudly, hippies, punks and businessmen alike. There’s nothing funnier than a Chinese punk with multiple piercing, black baggy clothes and a tattooed forehead----really, a slice of culture in a place that reeks of it.

Sometimes, I would meet up with my friends for coffee and chocolate cream cakes at Covent Garden where we would sit outside and admire the passers by made up of hunky European men, and tourists before we set off on a long satisfying walk along the market and towards Regent Street visiting designer stores like Louis Vuitton knowing we could not afford a pin of their goods but it won’t stop us from drooling foolishly. Then, we would run for the no.6 bus inadvertently burning the calories accumulated from all the sweets. I miss the days I would be inspired to travel to Scotland just by taking a train ride to see my friends in colleges in Dundee.

It’s not like the United States doesn’t have this riot which I could identify with…it does. I am sure it must have. But they don’t have that much culture here, and in the few places it does exist like New York, Philadelphia and Los Angeles are too unsafe to take long carefree walks which eventually ruins the fun. And my Sundays…well, since there is no measure of local transportation in my local suburb, and my family here are Baptists and we have 2 young children who haven’t yet grasped the importance and respect for church services, then what ever occurs we take it as so.

My Sundays are not as for me as I would have them to be. I have no friends I can spontaneously go to the movies with or walk around downtown with, and even if I did, since they don’t sell alcohol on Sundays, and we would either be brutally I.D’ed before we could get a drink and one of us would have to drive, it would inevitably deter our minimal social alcohol consumption. Yes, it sucks. 

No one lives close enough to take a train ride to. There are places in Georgia that actually take four hours to get to by car…and you might have to resort to a plane to get to. And my life isn’t mine. The movies I go to have to be of a G or PG rating unless I can’t go, (and you know how much I despise PG movies) because what would be the fate of the kids while you are at the movies. Who would watch them? What else do we do for fun…eat. We eat steaks dinners, pork loins, spare ribs, etc, name it anything fattening with cheese we delight in taking pleasure in its consumption…that is our favorite pastime. And since we all have to drive around in cars to cover the distances, after dinner we drive home and crash on our beds, allowing the fat to build up inside us with no means of burning it off, thus putting on some weight, especially around the mid-section. This is not me.

 I sometimes wonder how much fun those that live alone and get to dictate their own time have with themselves. I envy them too…these are the youthful days of my life where I am supposed to be comfortable on my own, going out on numerous dates, living my life to the fullest before I turn 30-something and suddenly feel the pinch to marry and settle down. But I feel like that time has already presented itself to me and I have taken it---without the husband of course---with all the personal loneliness but with all the loss of privacy and personal pleasure attributable to me.

I remember one afternoon as I walked with my friend along a beautiful place in England called Richmond. If you know Richmond, you would know this place is beautiful…I can’t describe places well enough for you to see yourself in it but I will try. I found out later that Bianca Jagger has a home here.

The streets were paved, quiet, and lined with the choicest Italian restaurants, cafes, and pizzeria and the houses were either lofts or magnanimous homes, and inviting driveways presented with quaint gardens, and lovely plush trees sashaying the breeze into the spacious balconies that gave off an enthralling view of the streets for its occupants. There wasn’t a nasty unsightly pub in sight; it didn’t have all those corner paper and confectionery shops to ruin the serene look; it was Starbucks all the way. Overall, Richmond was a tranquil, upper-class neighborhood, quiet yet bubbly. I could tell that the favorite pastime here might possibly be entertaining friends or neighbors, lazy lunches and breakfasts casually enjoyed on the terraces with friends that lived close by.

Instantly, I shared with my friend how I would love to live in one of those lofts, a second floor one with my man…while I worked in the city, driving home everyday. And on the weekends, especially Saturday mornings, we could take a walk to the neighborhood café, sit on the sidewalk and enjoy a cappuccino together; laughing, being one in each other’s company and talking about the events of our work week…then we would walk home. In the afternoon, we might visit or be visited by a similar couple and we would sip wine, share work talk, or details of our last enchanting holiday in Europe where we delighted in viewing all the historical sights, castles and monuments; or the playful time we had vacationing in Florida’s Disney Theme park which though fails in comparison to the didactic time we had in Europe but served as a guilty pleasure. Then, we could arrange to go to a stage play later, an opera, or a movie while we ate lunch together on the terrace, listening to some American Soul/R and B artist preferably India.Arie blaring from our speakers…a sophisticated intellectual gathering that would be me. Exquisitely me.

I am sure some of you might be thinking how irresponsible I am to want such a life lacking focus or set goals but indeed I am not. I am just free-spirited, happy and open and totally open to participating freely in the me and the environment lifestyle that satisfies me. And, I am sure there are people that participate in this type of leisure in the US but I do not know them, never met them though I wish I could. And I am sure there must be some distinct measure of fun to be grasped here but I am still yet to find it.

 I like to believe that the life I live now maybe God’s way of convincing me to appreciate the simpler pleasures of life: family, food and togetherness. And maybe by His desired faith I may start to enjoy myself once I have opened up my heart to delight in these things. I do not know.

All I know is that this is not “me”. I am not “me”. I haven’t been for a while and I miss and yearn earnestly for reconciliation with my inner self, my true self, and my unadulterated persona.

 For now, I have been shielded from myself to be this faint shadow; someone who cannot see, taste or feel at her own discretion: A distant reflection of me stares at me everyday in the mirror.

 I hope some how these faint dreams of mine come true for what is life without our dreams to inspire us.

Jennie and the entire clan, you guys know who you are---Thanks for a smashing good time in London. As you can see I still cherish those times...I miss you girlfriend, we should get together. We will get together, some time soon and do it all again. Keep that close 'cause I am.

Random thought:

I said last month, July that I had decided to grow my hair into an Afro, you know like Jill has above. She is actually one of the few big women who makes being big look so good that you tend to develop a deeper appreciation for it. That's why for once, I put up a woman's picture on my diary page, instead of a man's preferably a hunk's. I don't know maybe I am getting soft, but there are so many positive women out there doing wonderful things that sometimes, you just have to give props to them, you just have to. Part of Shelia's character in Simple Kind of life is based on her looks and her individuality, and her refreshing smile. I guess, if it ever did get made into a series on HBO or something...Jill might play her. A girl can only dream, right? You never know, but remember you read it here first. If they can make serials on Funeral Homes, why not on Keanu and Shelia's Simple kind of life, simple kind of love.

 (Photo of Jill Scott courtesy of jillscott.com and photos in page courtesy of corbis.com)

Movies I watched:

Planet of the Apes:

A remake that though not termed as one, a revisit according to the producers…but it contained some vague references to the original. A somewhat simple plot that was marred by the elusive ending which cannot be made sense of no matter how many times it is re-watched. The lines read quite as simple, falling from the actors like scriptwriters sap, and look out for the apes garnering more airtime than is due to them. The human’s characters are not carefully developed, if anything they are rushed over so it gives you little or not time to develop any empathy for them in the field of battle with the apes. A fun action flick that keeps you satisfied as long as you don’t expect too much intelligence or to be taken on an emotional journey because that won’t happen.

Starring Mark Wahlberg, Tim Roth, Helen Bonham Carter, Michael Clarke Duncan, Charlton Heston, Kris Kristofferson, etc.

 

Original Sin:

A high impacting Gothic steamy drama not to be confused with a sappy love story but is rather a tale of lust, obsession, and desire consuming the minds and hearts and gearing a successful to the path of destruction from one woman.

Stars: Angelina Jolie and Antonio Banderas.

Princess Diaries:

The only g-rated comedy of the summer and by far the least sappy of the lot. At best, it is a guilty pleasure for adults, with a definite message of dreams coming true, and impossible achievements being conquered…applause was the audience’s reaction at the end of this one.

Stars: Anne Hathaway, Julie Andrews.

 

Music:

India.Arie----Acoustic Soul

I was told that her music would feed my soul and capture my mind---and indeed it did. This is soul music at its finest…she speaks of inner beauty, love of music, of your self, pride in relationships, and love of brown skin and adoration is duly given to the godfathers of soul music. A classy kind of music harnessed with real acoustic guitars.

Look out for songs like: Video, Wonderful---a Stevie Wonder Tribute song, Back to the middle, Always on my mind, Brown Skin, Promises.

Alicia Keys---- Songs in A minor:

Very simple, yet so sincere and angelic---that was the magic that Alicia used to work her magic into our heads and get the entirety of America and beyond addicted her new sound. She makes good use of the essential keys on her piano, stringing some violins, and then her raspy southern drawled voice serenading the listener and captivating you to pay attention to every note that falls from her mouth. Alicia is just as deep...she talks about troubles, winning battles, getting where you should from determination.

Look out for songs like: Butterflyz, Troubles, Why do feel so sad? Mr. Man, and the no.1 hit from the album, Fallin’.

Usher--- 8701:

Usher's CD (a measly 14 songs without 2 intros) with the few mellow sensual songs made it what it is...a classy R & B soulful album---his voice has really matured--- but the many upbeat songs (U remind me excluded) sort of ruined the effect you want to get with a bottle of win chilling by the fire with your man sort of vibe that I wanted to get form the album.
He collaborated with famous music geniuses like the Neptunes, Jermaine Dupri and some Babyface, and other cool producers...but actually they made the album a bit quirky overflowing with electronic beats, and not enough emphasis on Usher’s smooth voice, nothing as smooth as the first single released from the album: U remind me. He should have just gone soft and slow paced all through. All the rough cuts, hook and electronic riffs in the upbeat songs though are the new wave of sounds but they make the album slightly uncomfortable. 

A good dance album, with a lot of sensual songs to wine and dine to with a loved one. 

Look out for songs like: U got it bad, Good Ole’ Ghetto, How do I say? If I want to, Twork it out.