A Life Lived

You have not lived until you are packed into a very small, dark room with good people, a karaoke machine, a mic or two, a chac chac, a tambourine, some alcohol and nothing but determination to sing the stress all away! I can tell you it took me 25 years and 2 months to truly start living when I went to my first karaoke lime in August. I have been craving karaoke since then. That's something I never thought I'd say. At home, going to karaoke never really appealed to me so I never went. What is it that makes karaoke so special? I'm trying to figure it out myself. Maybe it's the collective energy before you arrive. The build up. Everyone knows that, yes, life may have all its problems but in a couple hours, as those off key notes gush out of your mouth, so will all that stress. Maybe it's the start when everyone is not yet loose. Still uptight from the struggles of this life and as the songs and drinks keep flowing, the voices keep rising, new moves appear, anx

I wish the delinquent boys in Trinidad were like the delinquents in Japan. Seriously. Maybe, then, we'd get somewhere as a people. I can't take 'delinquent' students in Japan seriously. They're simply not believable. How do you expect to be 'gangsta' and you have a pencil case? Coming from Trinidad, I've met a few 'little harden rugrats' who actually have no effs to give. Like, really really. They really do not care and you have to jump through hoops and put on a performance that partially lubricates some deep part of their charred souls in order for them to give you and your content any attention.  They come to school with their school pants shiny without a wrinkle in sight, waves on swim with a sharp haircut and a Jansport schoolbag matching their uniform. The schoolbag? EMPTY. If you're lucky, you'll find an 'everything' book in it. A book that he uses for everything. ...but there is one thing that 'wutless'