PERMA-NAMA-NAMA-NENT!!!!

It is with the most DESPERATE of GLEES that I can zwiddle a-luft, that I announce to one and all, that all attempts to have me shipped out of Canada have failed, and will continue to do so. I AM NOW A PERMA-NAMA-NENT RESIDENT in the country of Canada!!! I am one giant twister-move to becoming a citizen of this great country!!!

But of course, let me share with you the events that led up to this great moment in time:

2004. I packed up my meagre belongings and left my home in Kingston, Jamaica. My father drove me to the airport. My traveling route was to fly to Montego Bay on Air Jamaica, and then, continue on Air Canada to Toronto, with a connecting flight to Winnipeg. I checked in for my flight, got my favourite seat, and proceeded to the departure lounge. My flight should have left at 8:30AM. I began to worry when it was past 10:00AM and we had not been called for our flight! Then the next announcement I heard sent shivers down my bosoms! "May I have your attention please. All passengers already checked in on Air Jamaica flight 021 with service to Montego Bay, your flight has been cancelled. We regret the inconvenience." As I sat there, I thought to myself that I will miss my connexion and that would be that. So I darted to the ticket counter to try to get on to the Air Jamaica Express flight going to Montego Bay. It was already full! So then, I began looking into my options: Do I spend copious amounts of the little money I had to hire a taxi to risk killing me to take me to Montego Bay on the double, or do I give up and wait for tomorrow? And then, by Divine inspiration, I had an idea! I had learnt of an Air Jamaica flight going to Toronto non-stop that day. Maybe I could get myself on that flight!!! So I skipped daintily (this was before I learned how to zwiddle desperately) back to the counter and FLUNG myself upon the counter BEGGING the sweet battle-axe on the other side to get me ON that flight, and she did just that! She gave me the last seat available!!! Of course, this was after showing some ham-hock on the side you know. I was desperate!!!

When I was getting ready to land in Winnipeg, I remember wondering where the heck was I! All I saw from the window of the plane was...miles and miles of, farmland! As we were coming in for final approach, I began to see houses and other edifices. My goodness I was in the middle of nowhere!!! And thus, my life in Winnipeg began!

During the two years I lived in Winnipeg, I experienced great joys and sadnesses. After following the instructions to change my status to student, given to me by the International Student Office, they proved to be incorrect, and I was ordered to leave Canada. I appealed of course, because I could not just leave like that. Canada, at that point, was my ONLY shot at a possible career. So, for six months, while I waited for the appeal to be processed I lived in fear of being deported! Every night I went to sleep, I lived in fear of any kind of knocking at the door, or any shadows gliding past my door in the night. I memorized where all the important stuff I'd need in that event, and I was just uneasy for the entire time. BUT, in ALL of that time, something with happening to me that I was not aware of. My faith in God was getting stronger!!!

Eventually, I left the country and went back to Jamaica to the Canadian High Commission there, and got the paperwork all sorted out, and in a month, was able to return.

It was also during my time in Winnipeg that something else that was very strange began to happen. Somehow, people in Winnipeg got it into their heads that, if seasoned thoroughly, I'd roast up, or bake up quite nicely! Thus began the reign of the cannibals!!! I began having bizarre dreams of being chased by hungry, drooling Winnipeggers aiming me into a cauldron, or a vat of a good rub, or something of that nature. They just did not (and still do not) believe it when I said that I was NOT and still am NOT edible, and that even if captured and marinated, I'd be a most unco-operative meal!! Even in my last trip there, there were little kids gnawing on me for dessert!!! AAAAACK!!! But despite all the teeth marks and cinnamon in my hair, I still love this city, and go back to visit every chance I get...in STEALTH mode of course! And, while living there, I made two attempts (one in 2005 and the other in 2006) to establish permanent residency, but to no avail.

2006. Toronto! I packed up my meagre possessions once again and took flight to Toronto. Leaving Winnipeg was very hard for me. It felt like leaving mother!!! But it was time to zwiddle desperately onwards and outwards. I moved to Toronto and continued my quest for establishing myself as a permanent fixture. I was back in school (this time, it was Opera School), and singing up a storm. From that time until now, I have survived one of the biggest immigration scares of my life, rented a room in the home of a hoarder, been treated shamefully by some, but still, my faith continued to grow! Finally, when I made my third attempt to 'emigrate' in 2007, I then went into a very frustrating wait! For two whole years, the only thing I got from them was a letter acknowledging receipt of my application. It got to the point where I nearly gave up because it seemed as if they had either forgotten me, or that somehow, I had fallen through the cracks. With the help on an immigration lawyer, we began to slowly get some answers, and we both did a lot more waiting! But during that time, my faith continued to grow, even though I could not see or perceive it. Every time people would ask me about where my application was at, it would feel like twisting the dagger around in my pork! It hurt! And just when I was at the point of throwing my hands up in the air in defeat, things began to flow. I got a letter requesting police clearances, then medical examinations, and other letters they needed. And then, on Friday September 17th 2010 @ 10:33AM, a letter is delivered to me from the Canadian High Commission in Jamaica! I hold my breath desperately! I turn three shades of bronze!!! I open it, and see *drum roll* THE CONFIRMATION OF PERMANENT RESIDENCE certificate!!! Thanks be to ALMIGHTY GOD!!! Here I am!!

Now do not forget to check out my other bloggy address at http://godivaspot.blog.com and catch up on the specific moments in times leading up to this point. I am sure you'll find it...interesting!

MOI

My Myriad Ramblings On, and other Warblings, etc.

And now (*curtain slowly rises*) I am BACH to BLOGGIIIIIING!!!! (*oprah*) I have in recent times stopped blogging because I thought that no one was paying any attention to what I had to say, but now, I have come to the desperate conclusion that it is OK if no one is listening, or in this case, reading! I have been doing so well at talking to myself, and answering my own questions that there is no reason why it should bother me that no one is paying attention.

Within the past fortnight, I have been wondering certain things. One of those things I have been wondering is what life would be like for me if I was a shoe, or rather a pair of shoes. Now this conversation, I can see, would cause the person on the other end to develop a sudden severe case of constipation, or they may all of a sudden be endowed with the urge to watch paint dry, or to plant themselves in a garden watching little things grow, but this has stirred up some interesting thoughts, and of course, due to my generous nature, I am going to share them with you!

Being a pair of shoes would provide an interesting perspective on life. First, one would get to see everything at ground level. I do not think it would be so bad because then, I get to see what other shoes have to endure from the people wearing them. I'd hope that my owner would have well-kept feet though. I cannot imagine what it would be like if my owners had feet riddled with athlete's foot, or bunions, or anything of the sort. But I digress. Getting to see life at ground level is very educational, because there is a lot that goes on south of our borders than we realize, and I'd get a front row seat to see who the secret snackers, and the perverts are, and knowing that being down there, I can be at the ready to give a swift kick to someone being naughty, or attempting to get fresh!

One gets to GO places! And in going there, I'd get to meet other shoes and find out their stories. If shoes could talk, they'd have a lot to say, and in my little world, they do! So then, I'd get to conspire with other shoes to go on a mutiny and leave our respective masters, and see the world, ON OUR OWN TIME!!! Have you ever noticed that when you are looking for one or a pair of shoes that seem to be missing for some reason, and you've heard it said many times, "well, they did not just get up and walk away, did they?"? Well (*baritone chuckle*), I guess I will leave it at that.

As a pair of shoes, I do not have to bother myself with such boring details as explaining myself to anyone. The main reason for that is that I always have a foot in my mouth, literally! The only thing that I'd have an aversion to are DOGS! Cats I do not mind at all because all they can do to you is to rub themselves in and out of you, and drool all over you, especially when your master has a particularly ripe and well-aged pair of feet! Dogs on the other hand have a tendency to drag you all over the house, and outside and every which way, and chew you to bits! Maybe I was a pair of shoes in another lifetime (even though I do not believe in past life stuff). That would explain my particular resistance to being chewed, eaten, or in any other way masticated!!

And finally, no one would accuse me of being crazy. Shoes just, supposedly, sit there. Or so we'd love you to keep thinking! I'd sit there literally beside myself in glee at the myriad ways I could drive my master out of his tree. For instance, when put in the cupboard or shoe closet, or by the door, most likely, I'd be put in line with myself, laces tucked in, and neatly stowed. Assuming that my master is a desperate neat freak, I can easily pigeon-toe myself, just to drive him batty. Another way is, once cleaned and spit-shined, I could find a nice puddle outside to undo all that hard work in one fell swoop! That of course would start a chain of events, like, send my master into a mental tailspin, especially seeing that he lives alone, and is obsessed with being neat ALL the time! It'd be TOO easy! And then, when he goes for therapy, he'll blame me, the shoes, and then, they'd never let him walk out. They'd carry him out, all trussed up in a nice white belted suit and taken somewhere to be sanitized, while I'd be free to roam about and continue to see the world!

Oh this is TOO much fun!!!

Just in case you didn't know it...

It's FACTOID TUESDAY!!! So, here are se7en things I have noted in the last week, which I am sure will tickle you senseless, and if not, they'll tickle me senseless just writing about them:

1. Cannibals DO exist in Toronto, though half of them are in denial and the other in the closet!

2. Torontonians seem to enjoy their constipated demeanor and have a desperate aversion to fibre! They remind me of 4PM Saturdays in Superstore in Steinbach, MB with the omas!

3. The fact that babies coo and drool while gawking at me does not always mean they enjoy my company. Most of the time, it means they are hungry and teething and want something rubbery to gnaw on.

4. Hurricane Infant, which descended upon Toronto a fortnight ago, is petering out slowly, but is still packing quite the wallop and is still wreaking havoc in his wake!

5. Making the decision to leave facebook and begin blogging again is one of the most liberating experiences...this week at least!

6. Brick walls and glass doors do not soften with time!

7. In blasting your way through there like a truck in a Wagnerian or Strauss orchestra, a beautiful tone is an absolute waste of time. You are much better off with a factory whistle, foghorn or buzz-saw kind of voice, with a seismic cutting edge.

To WinnaCANNIBALipeg and BEYOND!!!! *splat!!!*

I have been having a DESPERATE BLAAAAAAAAAAAAST (*oprah*) being BACH in Winnipeg!!!!! I mean, not taking into account that more people than ever before are aiming at my ham-hocks and trying to relieve me of them, stuff me full of chocolate and treat to fatten me up, and then, nibble little bits and pieces of me as I go zwiddling desperately past them, ham-hocks-a-blur!!!

And as per typicule, it tickles me senseless whenever those of us from the Faculty can get together in a sort of reunion. Unfortunately, we did not have a RETREAT! RETREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAT!!!!!! this year, but whenever we have seen each other, it is as if we were never apart! Case in point, last night!

I gave a free concert last night at Knox United Church to promote my new CD, "Sound an Alarm!" http://www.cdbaby.com/williamsonsmyth and to raise funds for the church. It was so good to see Cleopas, Jeanette, Percy and Desiree, and Keisha. Just as I was about to sing, I saw a beam of light wash over the sanctuary, and I realized that a very glowing, and yet again, obviously pregnant Rossweisse had entered the room, practically floating, as if she was being wafted by little cherubs to her seat. And sitting next to her was Arnold, who I was so tickled to see come after what he has been through recently.

Just as I opened my mouth to sing, about one-third of the audience reached into their satchels, and threw apples, aimed supposedly at my mouth! One of them landed in there. So I figured, "Oh how sweet! They want to feed me again!" So I ate (pronounced 'ETTE') the apple and then began singing. Then, they all reached into their satchels again and pulled out what looked like serviettes, cutlery, crockery, spices, trussing cord, and, peanut butter?? It became apparent to me that this was NOT going to go down well! I got the impression that they all responded to my advertising campaign, where I had to stand in the street, and show some ham-hock, and shake my back bacon just to put the scent in the air to attract them to attend my concert. It backfired!!! They thought they were all coming to DINNER!!!!

Fortunately for me, I got the idea from a very annoying person on facebook (thank you!) to come prepared! I swung by a farming tools store and got myself two rather large, high capacity cattle prods, with holsters!!! And I made sure that they were strapped to my corpus and in view of the audience. As they rose from their seats to attempt to truss me to the spit they wheeled in the front door, I quickly whipped out the prods and knocked them together to show I meant business! And, I had the good sense to lock the choir entrance door in the back so that they could not grab me from behind and haul me away!!!

And with that, they sat back down, staring at me rather longingly, with drool dribbling down their chins, and realized that they'd have to settle for cookies and soda instead! All in all, it was a good evening, and I did manage to sell some CDs! The only thing I worry about now is when they listen to my CD they may associate it's music with dinner time! I'll be gone in a week, so I'll just have to keep looking over my shoulder round to make sure no one is nibbling away at any part of me. I thought being popular would be wonderful, but this is ridiculous!!!!

MOI

The wonders of Prescription DRUGS!!!

*skips daintily in* Now kids: Stay AWAY from using drugs, unless your Dr. tells you to!!!

Since the crash, a lot has happened! I have been submitting myself to being kneaded, pummeled, pin-cushioned, and threatened with more menu items being flung at MOI! I have been going to physiotherapy in other words, and I have been coping with quite a bit of pain from the impact.

So, I paid a visit to my neighbourhood shrink last week and flung myself upon his downy couch and allowed him limited access into my very sane and stable mind, to see if there is anything he can dredge up. Well, he must have dredged up something because I saw him shaking and popping a pill and washing it down with vodka, and when I was finished, he ran screaming from his surgery and is now into selling glass slippers out of a suitcase!

Before going stark raving mad, he did prescribe a sleep aid for me to take to help me get to sleep at night. Of course, I was skeptical about all of this at first, but I decided that it was time to wimp UP and take the pill!! So I did! It does help me to fall asleep quite well. It is while I am actually asleep that has me boggled!! I have the strangest dreams!!!

One night, while under the influence of this drug, I dreamt that I was on a hill side, with sheep, COUNTING them!!! I would start at the very beginning, which is a very good place to start, and then lose count, and have to start all over again! And every time I would start over, they would turn into LAMBSHANKS!!! So, to keep myself from thinking of mint jelly, I would walked away, and while doing so, fell off the mountain. The shepherdess tried to save me, but she was too late trying to undo one of her Princess Leia buns for me to hold on to, that it was just too late. So I fell into a tree.

Then, when I realized that I was sitting on the pointed edges of a pineapple, I squealed and sprang out of the bush, when I saw a lion charging toward me with mouth agape and daggers drawn! I closed my eyes, resigning to the thought that my ham-hocks were now on the menu, when just before he could eat me, while in mid-pounce, a gaggle of wonton belly-dancing hippos came flailing about gleefully pirouetting hither and thither, crushing the poor lion by knocking him out of mid air.

Then, I turned around and was grabbed by an amazon temptress, named Ertha, who shoved me into her bosoms and carried me off to her lair where I became the cute little butterball, tied to a stake, and slowly turning over a hot fire! Being hungry at this point, I ate the apple that was shoved into my mouth, and hypnotized some spiders to chew me loose. Then I escaped, on stilts and found a waterfall, where I ran smack into the nymphs and shepherds who were dancing in a ring and playing their little flutes and harps. When they saw me, they grinned, showing their fang-filled mouths, and invited me to lie down on a bed full of jelly beans and take a nap. When I refused to, they began shimmying their bosoms and started baking cakes at me, when I woke up!

I have since stopped taking this medication.

MOI

How to 'spot' a Jamaican

This was written by a Jamaican, and I just HAD to post it! Enjoy!

How to spot a Jamaican



It seems clear to me that Jamaicans are such a distinctive breed that one
should be able to spot them anywhere. Though we may resemble other persons
of African descent, Jamaicans (Jamaicanus Cantankerous is the Latin name for
the species) are easy to pick out if you know what to look for. But if you
have a particular interest in Jamaicans and are finding it difficult to spot
them outside of their "natural habitat" ( Jamaica ) here are a few pointers
for spotting Jamaicans in the "wild".
The first thing to do is to look for the obvious clues. If you're on a New
York subway going out for a late-evening drink, it should be obvious that
the Jamaican in the crowd is the young lady with the low cut blouse who has
covered her entire chest, from cleavage to neck, with baby powder.
And if you're on a street in Brixton and spot a lad strolling confidently
down the street in a knee-length, red, green and gold mesh marina, with
nothing but his scrawny, bare chest under it, then this gentleman is quite
likely a Jamaican. Similarly, if you spot a man, anywhere in the world, with
a white rag wrapped up and stuffed into his back pocket (where a person of
any other nationality would have placed a handkerchief) then this person is
a Jamaican. No question.
But these are the obvious physical clues. To conclusively identify a
Jamaican one needs to be acquainted with the more common behavioral traits
of the species.
But before we discuss these behavioral traits, a few words of advice. If you
are going "Jamaican-spotting" please do so from a distance. Jamaicans do not
like being followed or being stared at. Please also note that you risk a
violent confrontation if you approach a Jamaican suddenly. We don't like
being surprised. As far as we are concerned, only a duppy or a gunman would
approach an innocent person without warning. Finally, we would be grateful
if you avoid sharing these tips on Jamaican-spotting with members of the
FBI, DEA or US Customs/Immigration. Jamaicans living abroad have enough
problems as it is.
Now we can return to our discussion of those peculiar habits and behaviors
that set Jamaicans apart.
If you spot an elderly lady at the Airport check-in counter in Cayman, with
a suitcase the size of a fridge, which she has just "discovered" is 40
pounds overweight, then it's possible that this lady is Jamaican. If she
opens the suitcase to reveal large quantities of cornflakes, cooking oil and
flour then she is most likely a Jamaican. If she tries to persuade you to
carry her excess baggage to Jamaica in your luggage then she is definitely
Jamaican.

If you're sitting in a pub in London a few weeks before Christmas and you
spot a middle-aged gentleman standing in front of a television camera
sending "greetings" to Aunt Maude and Uncle Ferdie in Chalky Hill, then the
good gentleman is doubtlessly a Jamaican. Please buy him a white rum when
he's through.

Another easy way to identify a Jamaican is to observe persons when they are
angry. (Now, let's be clear here. We suggest you watch them when they are
angry. We don't suggest that you make them angry.) A Jamaican, when
angered, will invariably launch into an extended verbal tirade. Such tirades
have been known to last for as long as 45 minutes, during which time the
Jamaican will not pause to take a breath, will not let you respond and every
other word will end with "claat". (There are approximately 317 versions of
"claat" so don't be surprised if he never repeats himself even once). This
outburst may also be accompanied by frequent beating of the chest, "lapping
of the frocktail" and frequent requests that onlookers "hol' mi back before
mi do 'im supm". (i.e. "Restrain me before I do some serious bodily harm")
Please also note that it is not unknown for Jamaicans, when irate, to resort
to violence. So, as fascinating as it may be to watch, we don't suggest that
you stay to observe the outburst. Having established that your subject is
Jamaican we suggest that you leave the scene with as much haste as you can
possibly manage. Collateral damage is not an uncommon occurrence when a
Jamaican "kick-off" with somebody.

Another approach to Jamaican-spotting is to observe the habitat of the
individual you suspect to be Jamaican. If you are lucky enough to gain
access to the home of a Jamaican (known as his "ends" or "yaad") you may
find that the furniture (five years after it was purchased) is still covered
in plastic. Similarly, the carpet on the floor may be covered by plastic
walkways and there may well be a cabinet or "break-front" filled with enough
cheap crystal, bric-a-brac and china to completely outfit a duty-free store
in Montego Bay . If this is the case, you could very well be standing in the
dwelling of a bona fide Jamaican. Congratulations.
But how can we be sure that this is the home of a real Jamaican? If you
notice that the home has a backyard the size of a welcome mat, despite
which, every inch of same has been planted with callaloo, yam, banana and
gungo peas then this could be the home of a Jamaican. It might be noted that
an authentic Jamaican, being of a naturally hospitable and friendly
disposition, will very likely invite any visitor to his home to stay for
dinner so that he can taste the produce of the "farm". That visitor should
make very sure his stomach is empty. His Jamaican host will ply him with
large quantities of rice and peas, fricasseed chicken, and boiled ground
provisions and will deeply offended if his guest doesn't eat every morsel
thereof. That guest need not be ashamed to ask for seconds. For a Jamaican
this is just proof of the quality of the meal and will certainly bring a
smile to his face. On the departure of the guest, you may notice that his
host will insist that he take a little callaloo, a few pounds of yam and a
hand of bananas with him. If you observe this happening, then you have
definitely found the genuine article - a "real-real" Jamaican.

As you continue to observe your Jamaican you will discover other traits.
Jamaicans are the kind of people who, after living in a foreign country for
only three weeks, can tell you exactly where to buy a tin of Milo , a bottle
of Grace Tomato ketchup and a good draw of weed; all within three blocks of
the spot on which you are standing.
That same fellow will live in "farin" for the next 60 years and, having
reached the age of 92 and having raised his children and grandchildren
there, will tell you with absolute sincerity that he is going back home
"next year". And when he gets home he plans to retire to a little cottage in
Clarendon in the backyard of which he plans to grow. You guessed it.
callaloo, yam, banana and gungo peas.

The REAL Martyrs!!!

So, you think you all have it rough? You think you have heard it all, seen it all, processed it all??! Well think again! In all my years of blogging, I have constantly forgotten time and time again, who the real heroes are; who the real MARTYRS are! For all the time I spend dying, sighing, having slight excesses of emotion (as you all know by now how sane and well-adjusted a person I am!) and rare cases of flinging myself hither and thither about the place, I cannot compare to the sacrifices that these devices we take so much for granted have had to put up with... our computer devices!

Sheba, my lappy-top has been my faithful companion over the past 3 years! She never yells, or screams, or talks back to me. She quietly sits there, processing desperately away all the things I feed into her. No smoke, no grinding noise...just quietly churning away. Nothing I tell her ever throws her! She totally agrees with me that I am soooo NOT edible and has promised to defend me to her last kilobyte!!! She has been sniffed at, thrown about, trampled upon, fondled (not my MOI!), turned on, turned off, tickle-tortured, feather-dusted, and the ultimate of blasphemy, PLUGGED OUT!!!! But she is still chugging along.

Just think about it for a second. If our machines had minds of their own, what do you think they would do if given the chance? I think they would either run screaming into therapy for the rest of their hard drives, or tie us all up with their charging chords, put us into their storage bags, zip them shut tightly, and put us away for a very, very long time!!! They have to deal with things like, "OMG! Keep this on the DL! Maddison's gone AWOL with MJ, and I am so totally NDWT(not down with that)!!!" and "Dear Online Diary, MY LIFE SUUUUUUUCKS!!!!!! Why can't I get a ticket to the sold-out Justin Beesley concert!!? He's so dreamy! I am SOO gonna stalk him!! I am going to MAKE him love me!!! He's SOOOO gonna have my children!! This is SOOOO NC (not cool)!!!" and of course, chatrooms where you read, "G2G now! You log off first. No you first! No YOU first!! NOOOO! YoU 1st! No, u ferst!!! No you! No U! No you! No U....!!!!" And then that goes on for the next hour! See what I mean??

Not to mention, the amount of abuse! Whenever a significant other breaks up via e-mail, who do you think gets the first fall-out? When the stock market is not doing well when we get alerts on our i-phones and i-pads, who do you think gets flung on the ground and jumped on?? When a person is waiting for a life-changing phone call, who do you think gets to be stared at for hours on end, being yelled at and told to "RING, OR DIE!!!"??? And, where I come from, who do you think gets forgotten in the cleavage of someone's never-ending bosoms???? Hey! It has been known to happen!!!!

So take some time today to caress with fondness your PC or mobile device today. Speak gently to them and give them a nice hug. They put up with a lot more than we ever give them credit for and are worth more than their weight in gold!

MOI