Summer 2( late June-August)

Besides the fact that it was those months of the year- the ones that began with the letters J and A-this summer, you could hardly tell. It rained quite too frequently, I saw no beach and the girls in bikinis, and I had no crazy party that would have me under the influence doing wild things. It was just me, alone in the house, mostly chilled and sometimes sober.

It gives cause for worry when the friends you engage in daily conversations become the characters in a book, movie or TV sitcom. It is awkward because even though there may be talking from both ends; there is no communication in its truest meaning. However, they did make me laugh and smile, and occasionally sent some feelings of inspiration that propel me to want and become more. If only I could get back across the tube to return the gesture-- but especially for the silly clumsy comics who I think deserved a jabbing slap to the head, for lack of a much needed panache.

Most of this summer I lived in a four bedroom house by myself, helping the owner who is also my friend stay watch while he traveled on vacation. Though the house was big, I made sure the rooms weren’t always empty. They would have someone occupying them once I decided which one to sleep in next. They all got their turn, one night after another. I could throw a party, or invite friends for a sleep over. But my friends were all away. And all I had was me. And so I took me, and together we went on a path of reflection and self discovery. And discover we did.

Staying watch at the house also came with a car, lots of food, a bit of liquor, wireless internet and lots and lots of books that filled a mini-library in one of the rooms. So it wasn’t so dreadful after all. For the first time in a long while I drove myself around Mandeville where I live, turning and pedaling through the thin curves that paved Manchester roads. For the first time in a long time, I baked, and took some to share with my friend when I drove to visit. I drove to church and parked at the parking lot, striding off the car side in my typical chobi style. I read a few interesting books, and a few really boring ones I had a hard time wading through.

Most of the time, I spent downloading and watching movies. From the classics of the 50s and 60s, up to the newbies of 2010. I sat in front of my computer, a glass of rum and Pepsi in hand, or a cup of tea, relaxed and indulged myself in the pleasures of a thrilling and decent movie. Dinner would be at 7:30pm; movie would start at 8pm and end at about 2am - every day. Twitter closed the day before I went to bed. Oh and I blogged on 20sb, mostly at night time too.

But now the holiday is slowly inching away. Summer is leaving. And I’m afraid again it’s near that time when I’d have to say good bye. I’ve always hated goodbyes. But I have fall knocking right at the door loyally waiting to be welcomed in with all that it brings- the hard work, its joys and its throes. It is my fourth summer since I’ve been in Jamaica, and I know in no long time summer will be here again. But until it returns, I’m going to be enjoying a good time armored and riding on my experiences of this beautiful yet lonely summer, through the smooth and bumpy roads of fall, winter and spring. For who knows what even they might bring…

Summer 1(May - June)

It is always a bit of drudgery waking up at 5:30 in the morning to be at the gym. It is even harder when you have to do this three or four times a week. I mean, it is summer. The season of the year when it is totally acceptable to relish in absolute laziness and exuberant frolic; pleasant days of beaches and bikinis; wild nights of party and booze; and of course lots and lots of clinging to the bed from endless sleep. But no, somehow I still find myself strictly adhering to the rigors of a strict schedule that puts me to sleep by 11pm each night.

The waking up is hard. This morning it was drizzling with thin showers of rain, and the atmosphere was foggy. I could barely make out the contours and ridges that formed the edges of the trees I would normally view down the stretch when I opened my room door. It would be perfect to stay back and return to bed. I really wanted to. But a part of my body willed me to go on. Soon the rain stopped. But the walk was cold, and long. It takes about 25 minutes from my house to the gym on campus when I walk. But good thing, I had music to my ears like I do on most days.

Yet, I find it quite amusing how things take on a totally different turn once I hit the gym. Inside is never foggy, and it never rains. There is loud music that vibrates with a thumping rhythm that brings you alive and sends melodic adrenalin in through your veins. I come alive, totally oblivious of the recent feelings of drudgery of waking from bed and that dreadful walk. I’m pushing and pulling the weights that give me a feeling like superman. My muscles contract and expand with each push and pull, my shirt is wet from warm sweat exuding from my skin. And there is a bit of pain that is soon forgotten with the release of endorphins that send me totally euphoric. I feel good!

The most exciting part of exercising is how much I’ve seen myself grow over these months. Even though I have not really been consistent due to the tight and rigorous schedule of school and work, I have grown to bench pressing 150lbs. A commendable 60lbs increase from the 90lbs I began with less than a year ago. Someday I hope to be able to bench 200lbs-- I have not set a time frame on this-- but until then, my goals for the gym would remain to make my body as physically stronger as can be, and more task enduring. And there is no doubt in my mind that cutting the trivial hours from my sleep and pleasures would be a reasonably small sacrifice I would be glad to make to attain this.

Beautiful world?

I keep making the mistake
Of thinking that the world is a beautiful place
That everyone I met with a cute face
Was worthy of a warm friendship chase
Regardless of culture, gender or race.

And as a little child let out from the house
to play in the park,
that I could share all of my candies with
all the kids running circles in the arc.

But could these faces all be covered with masks?
A gnawing question I’ve been meaning to ask.
They appear pretty and spotless,
But inside are hollow cracks that
Exude bitter and ferocious bushwack.

Or perhaps it is my fault
For dissipating pieces of my heart in the dark;
For when the day came,
I could see all walk away,
quick in their tracks

Now my heart is broken and I want its pieces back
To seal the splits and guard it from their insidious attacks
That maybe again, I might find the strength from within
to keep trying to make this world
as beautiful a place as I think it should be.