we threw a party. And, as promised,here is another look at the headband... and the outfit. This is my fave pic,(BELOW) because I actually got a chance to sit down- hosting a party is loads of work...and we'd finally got a minute to sit and chat in the middle of the festivities. #toocuteforwords
It's Christmas time. I'm wishing you and your families a safe and happy holiday season. All the best for the new year from Island Style. ^_^
A little over a month ago Antigua had it's first Film Festival. It was an impressive selection of local talent- with several movies written and produced by Antiguans (The Skin, Sweetest Mango, Working Girl, Hooked, Dinner ..yay Tameka... and Redemption in Paradise). There were also a few movies shot by Italian producers which were shot in the waters around the island. Altogether a great week of activities. I managed to squeeze in a screenwriting class and got cleaned up for the finale night.
Tis the season to wear sequins ya know.... what I wore
dress by Zara, clutch- which you've seen before... is a fave of mine from Topshop. I'm wearing six inch heels so I'm way taller than my boyfriend in this pic.. but he says it feels like he's dating a supermodel. HAHA
And because I couldn't settle on just one look (have we met?) I changed into this sexy number for the after party at Abracadabra.
The colours and patterns on this dress are so wrong, that they're right. I had to buy it. Ever seen something and had a hard time deciding if you liked it or not? When that happens to me, I whip out my checkbook- I love clothes that are "out there".
I remember how I felt the day that I found out that Erica Badu's locks were fake. In a word, duped.
Erica Badu, she of the ankh and incense, and huge headwraps reaching toward the sky. She who championed the cause of the afro-centric, elevated, highly intelligent black females amongst us. There were many who could relate to her- because they aspired to be what she seemingly had become- in touch- at peace- aware.
I always had felt inadequate when I listened to Erica's songs. I kept in mind that she was an artist...LOL... but she was so "perfect" - and I was not, am not... will not. Be that as it may, I loved to listen to the songs and I was challenged to learn about the symbolism and I wanted to be a better "me" because of her. I wanted her beautiful huge afro, and her long twisted locks. I wanted to know why brass cuffs were "better" than Tiffany lockets. I wanted to stop relaxing my hair and "get back to my roots" first because Erica Badu did it - and looked good while doing it- every day on BET. As in most things, I dove headfirst, never really considering whether the artist I admired embodied the things I thought she did.
I suppose we will never know. People have a way of hiding themselves behind masks. Some masks are positions like "pastor" or "teacher", some masks are labels like "bohemian" or "afro-centric", some masks are ideological like "Christian" or "Buddhist". Perhaps she was just manufactured to be an afro-goddess- filling a niche in the entertainment industry- selling a brand that people clung to simply because it was - and is - aspirational. Do you remember Iyanla Vazant? I think I bought every one of her "Value in the Valley" books... and then she pissed off Oprah! Google their reunion show and listen to her describe how "out of touch" she was while trying to convince the rest of us that she was "perfect". As a woman, I know now it isn't easy to be as above reproach as Iyanla and Badu seemed to be at the time. To this day I haven't mastered tying a headwrap like Erica, and truth be told, some of the things they spoke about I just could never understand (we educated fools are ruining the world - I know...LOL) . I memorized all the words to "call Tyrone" though! and I still have Iyanla's books. I found entertainment and hours of reading pleasure from them, and when the dust cleared, I found I had learnt something too.
"Nobody's perfect, nobody's perfect.... and that is perfectly fine".
It's cool if you never get it right, or if your choices aren't always the most popular. LIFE isn't about one moment (though a moment can change your life) and it isn't about what people think of you (because those people aren't spending enough time thinking about their own selves). LIFE is a sticky, messy, sometimes unfortunate, mostly remarkable, result of the choices we make everyday. We are not infallable, perfect, omnipotent gods (though I am finding many of us think we are). We do the best we can, try not to hurt too many people, apologize when we need to (or not) and love the people who love us back (if we're smart). All the rest of it- all the judgement (and the non-judgement) all the hurt (which is really anger with a pretty name) all the gratitude in the planet - is like a flat afro..... "it be's like dat sometimes".
I have had the fortune of learning at the feet of many wise women. I don't profess to know everything about everything (that's what google is for)... but I will tell you one thing that I know for sure: life is too short. I'm grateful that I know that now.
"b-smartenoughtoreadthebackofthebox"
The End
................................. (this will become a chapter in The Wall)
This post is for every person sitting behind their computers thinking someone else's life is better than theirs... no, it isn't!
In the summer of 2001 I decided to ride on a bus in Jamaica.
I didn't need to- but I wanted to experience everything while I was there that month, and I'm usually such a princess and I had heard stories about how awful it was - so naturally I figured I had to experience it first hand.
Dizz parked his car in a plaza parking lot, and we walked across the street to the Halfway Tree bus terminal. In this re-enactment, I have lovingly referred to myself as "Lunatic".
Dizz:" Babylove. Yuh not gon like riding pon no bus. You sure bout dis?"
Lunatic:" yes, I'm sure. I don't see what the big deal is. I ride buses in Antigua all the time, we can catch this bus, go up the road a bit and then stop it and get off
Dizz: "okay!"
Lunatic: " it's gonna be alright man"
So we get to the terminal and the buses are huge (think the size of the local Party Bus in Antigua). People are packed into them like sardines, and there is no room- seated or standing- or hanging off the entrance rail.... no where!!!
I look up at the bus in front of me, and try to peek around the people queueing up to get inside. It seems like an impossible task- nobody else can fit- "the bus canna cross it!"
Lunatic: " This bus is packed, we have to go on the next one"
Dizz: " oh yeah?" . He looks amused, and I am not sure why.
Just then the conductor (I assume) yells at me
"daughta, yuh comin pon de bus? we soon move arf. Halffff-wayyyy tree!!!!!"
Lunatic: "is there room?"
Conductor: "yeah sis... just small up yuhself." He turns to yell inside the bus "small up yuhself man... we can tek een more still". Then he motions for me to go in.... there is NO ROOM... if I get into the bus, I may as well get a test for an STD. I would be thatclose to everyone!
I look at the bus- the sardines- the conductor- Dizz.
The conductor looks pissed... he's yelling "halfway tree! HALF WAY TREE!" to other approaching passengers who, unbelievably, are still getting into the sardine tin.
I found myself backing away, ashamed to admit I was wrong.
Lunatic: " Dizz,... you know ..... I don't think I'm dressed for this. This dress is silk! It would.. um.. wrinkle badly in such close quarters. Maybe tomorrow." I couldn't even meet his gaze.
He laughed at me for the rest of the day.
*shame*
This is dedicated to anyone who travels on public transportation! Just try small up yourself.
*wink*
xx
"b-sharingasmile"
(Video by the Trini comedian Myron Bruce- get familiar!)
In this shot: (TEA Tunic, BETCHBUM earrings) Sunday vibes
I have found that cute men with offensively bad grammar and poor social graces have a thing for me!
And so it was that three months ago I got a BBM (no, that wasn't a typo) I have saved it all this time just to scare myself
"babz, I wuz so glad to see u, my patients has pay off"
Seriously, no, seriously???
He had been sending me little gems for a while- all sorts of adulterations of the English language, and I was really trying to be understanding .. and such... HAHA. It had become increasingly impossible to carry on an intelligent conversation- he could talk about GAZA though... but not the Strip. He had never finished school, could not craft a witty sentence- and I generally love a smart man! I don't know what was wrong with me. After that text came in I realized I had gone too far and sometimes you just have to "date" in your own education bracket.
#dontfightthepower (note to self)
My immediate instinct was to click DELETE, but he was such a McHottie that I decided it was best to save him for days when I'm feeling a little down. I can just pick up my phone and think - this man is a functioning illiterate! So good looking - but so daft.
LOL
I'm terrible for saying that, I know... but I own my quirks! And I can spell dammit.
Went to Jah Cure's concert this past weekend. The turnout was minimal- I think the promoters missed Promoting 101, but I did the whole backstage, meet the artist thing... you may remember I posted a few of his videos on the blog before and I am a fan- so it was a treat for sure.
What I wore: white vest, gold Zara jeans, black STEVE MADDEN combat boots, Ralph Lauren pony hair belt. It was a little nippy so I grabbed a pink scarf too. I was gonna wear a dress and be all "cute" until I saw the location and realized it wasn't exactly set up for that kinda look.
I didn't exactly do jeans and a tee... but this was simple enough.
Omari ( Chosen Sounds) and I
Jah Cure with the Chosen Sounds Family (love Jus Bus' style- very individual) Check out his hair in this next pic.
I actually like this pic at this angle- just because it shows the funky pompadour Justin's got going on here. He is wearing army green, red and animal print...do you see it?? CRAZY. Loved it. I was feeling the shades too... they're vintage and he bought them on Ebay! Gotta love someone who knows what they like and goes firmly in that direction. I don't get to feature guys on this blog often, but I thought I'd give a shout out to JusBus for his unique Island Style.
(The Fight Scene- pic taken by Toya Turner at "Somebody go horn yuh" A play at the Ministry of Culture this past weekend)
CAST: Henry Rodney, Jennifer Thomas, Sheron Cadogan Taylor, Linyus Adams (Guyanese Production Company)- Horizon Arts Productions
A friend of mine told me that things in our lives are sometimes attributable to the phases of the moon. Much like the way mild mannered men became werewolves in popular literature, the influence of that giant orb in the galaxy can manifest itself in shifts in our own bodies.
I'm not convinced that he wasn't selling me a crock..... LOL... but, with the new moon last week I've had to juggle so many things I could have auditioned for the Cirque du Soleil. I was nursing wounds from a fight with a "good" friend, overseeing the start of a new project, making HUGE, life changing, decisions alone (TERRIFYING), doing a live interview... CLICK THE LINK....
on the radio (EQUALLY TERRIFYING) and trying to keep my head above water.... literally. Of course, that would also be the week I decided to head back to the gym and do some minor renovations at The Little Starfish. Because I am a sadist, naturally.
Something was bound to give.....
(me, on the floor at the shop... pretty sure I popped my shoulder out minutes after this shot was taken)
I had a fight with a friend, and for a good two weeks I thought I was fine with it, but then I threw my shoulder out. Here's the thing about fights: when you fight right- and come out with minor casualties, there is very little guilt, and life can go on. If you fight wrong, and everyone retreats to their own corner to sulk, it can literally hurt you for a long time. Mark Twain observed: " An uneasy conscience is a hair in the mouth". I felt so guilty over the way things had gone- not because I had stood up for myself, but because I was sure that I had, by my own conscious act, caused a change in the dynamic of a friendship that I loved.
I missed it, and it was a huge adjustment to get used to the "nothingness". On the outside we can all function after a loss. You simply put on a brave face and soldier on. Inside we are a hurricane of thought and emotion, and simply not at peace. It was in this mindset that I was back to staining shelves at the store last weekend. I was "happy" on the outside, and joking around with my friends who were there, but my mind was distracted... and I got lost - and my body gave me a sign that I needed to slow down.
I heard my shoulder pop.
It hurts so much that I've been shamelessly asking for shoulder rubs from friends with "good arms" all week. (sigh) The pain is not unbearable, but it's constant, and annoying, ( which to me is even worse) and I've convinced myself that it's quite simple to fix. If I could just somehow get under my shoulder blade and push it back where it needs to be, my problems would be solved. The irony of how similar this achy shoulder is to my absentee friend is not lost on me. Of course I would love a do-over on our fight.... but I also realize that if my friend ever were my friend they will figure a way to come back. That's what happens - things hurt for a while, and then they get better. In a few weeks, you're back to your old self, and maybe my friend and I will be too.
You know how this is: if I look at the crystal moon, at the red branch of the slow autumn at my window, if I touch near the fire the impalpable ash or the wrinkled body of the log, everything carries me to you, as if everything that exists, aromas, light, metals, were little boats that sail toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
Well, now, if little by little you stop loving me I shall stop loving you little by little.
If suddenly you forget me do not look for me, for I shall already have forgotten you.
If you think it long and mad, the wind of banners that passes through my life, and you decide to leave me at the shore of the heart where I have roots, remember that on that day, at that hour, I shall lift my arms and my roots will set off to seek another land.
But if each day, each hour, you feel that you are destined for me with implacable sweetness, if each day a flower climbs up to your lips to seek me, ah my love, ah my own, in me all that fire is repeated, in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten, my love feeds on your love, beloved, and as long as you live it will be in your arms without leaving mine.
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