Toby has been cruisin' for a bruisin' for twelve years. And I am now his cruise director. And my name is Captain Bruisin'.

If Erin and I did not use quotes from ‘The Office’ to title each blog, I would have entitled this blog:
I, Lead Paint and Technicolor Boogers, I

For those you with a keen eye and quick wit, you probably noticed that this title is in fact a palindrome. And despite Matt’s insistence that palindromes are kryptonite to gypsies, they, in fact are completely harmless when they are also onomatopoeias. And since all palindromes, like my title, are also onomatopoeias (I can provide citation for this: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/PalindromesareinfactOnomatopoeias), I am completely safe. Assuming Matt is not reading this blog… the only real literary danger to a gypsy is the dreaded Semordnilap. Damn you !Stressed Desserts! OUCH! Oi!

Anyway… Erin and I left to go up to the orphanage today around 8 o’clock. We got about 100 yards from our house before “Pssssst. Psssssssssssssssssst! PSSSSSSSSSSSSSST!” Ah, the sounds of a Jamaican flirting with Erin. My first instinct in this situation is to get mildly offended that 1) this dude would blatantly come on to Erin as I walk next to her and 2) that Erin would choose dirty, toothless bum-guy over yours truly (the “psssssst” is very common amongst cat-calling Jamaican males and I am not implying that all those who pssssst are dirty, toothless bums). However my second instinct is to walk over to the guy and explain to him how incredibly idiotic he sounds making that noise. I am pretty sure that making the deflating tire sound at a passing woman, American or otherwise, has never gotten anybody laid. Also calling Caucasian females “Whitey” (pronounced Whyyyy-teeee) hasn’t either. (I can provide citation for this too: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/actinglikeObtuseRacistAssholedoesn’tgetyoudates) This has to be frustrating for our special likkle fem-Nazi and I don’t blame her.

The rest of the day was spent at our village laboring for Labor Day, which I am assuming is really is a day off of school to repaint and landscape said school. I immediately claimed painting the monkey bars and “swing song” for the two of us. I dunno why they call swing sets “swing songs” but I like it. I chose this chore because clearing bush (our other option) sounded like the set-up to a dirty joke. Also it sounded hard. Mainly, I never get to paint. My family thinks I am a terrible painter and so instead of teaching me to paint to their standards, they just never allow me around a brush. Not that I can blame them, my lack of patience comes from somewhere. This is Erin now, P.S. I was pretty pleased with myself until I realized we’d have about 20 “helpers,” and our work included scraping old paint off what had to be 2 miles of metal pipe twisted into some sort of playground rubix cube with small putty knives. The scraping alone may have been daunting, but really it was the band of eager 8-yr-olds clamoring for a chance with the putty knife that made this chore more challenging than I originally supposed. There were chips of paint (probably containing lead) flying and sticking to our arms and faces, getting snorted up our noses (thus Patrick’s rainbow snot) and meandering down our windpipes. We decided to only let the children that helped scrape wield paintbrushes. Even with all the commotion, it was easy to tell who had scraped as they looked like they had some sort of rare disease that produces multi-colored sores all over the hands and face. Most of the children only wanted to paint until they actually got a chance, and then realized it was work and lost interest, luckily. However, we never had a shortage of workers. Sometimes I get the eerie feeling that there are no adults in the village. You’ll see scores of children running about maniacally, but no one over the age of 12. It’s spooky. Today was kind of like that. I did see plenty of people over 5 ft, but they all seemed glad to have escaped the assistance the children were so eagerly offering us. So Patrick and I trudged through the day, lone supervisors over a herd of children armed with paintbrushes. Now that I think about it, it went pretty well. Despite the bottle of spilled kerosene oil and the ice fight at the end, there was only the usual whining and bickering. It did take us about 7 hrs to do something that should have taken 3 (and we still have to put the second coat on!) but no one tried to paint anyone else. Oh, they were covered in paint anyway, as they tried to reach through freshly coated monkey bars and sit on paint cans, but it was the result of an honest desire to work and not the remnants of a paint fight. I have some lovely pictures and video to commemorate our toils, but our camera broke! I’m pretty sure it got infected with some sort of high-tech virus (for more info see: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/brokenGypsyCameraforSale).

This has been Erin and Patrick with your Channel 1 News investigation.

Yeah, I'm trying to lure these kids into my booth. But, uhh, kids are very weary of being lured, these days. Thank you Dateline.

Random Ruminations

-A significant portion of my time here in Jamaica has been spent feeling like a big floating dollar sign. Not to get into a discussion about race, but bums will let 15 Jamaicans walk by and only ask me for change. Grrrr to you bum. I also feel this way a bit at work too.

-I recently watched the NOVA special entitled the ‘Elegant Universe.’ I encourage anyone who has not seen this 3 part series to do so. WOW, the implications of string theory have exploded small holes in my brane (I realize this is not the correct spelling of the intended brain, but it is a barely humorous pun that you will get after viewing the show). I suppose there are not really any blown holes in my brain in this universe, but despite the minute probability it is probably happening somewhere. Holy balls Batman! That means my head is in severe peril somewhere else!

-The teaching of small children is incredibly difficult, especially when it comes to teaching computer literacy. Patience is not a virtue that I possess in abundance. Thus when I try to tutor my young wards I grow increasingly frustrated by my feeble explanations and their lack of understanding. I suppose that the great paucity in reading skills causes a rift in my lesson execution. “Okay kids every one left click on the ‘Games’ folder.” I had two frustrating replies to this seemingly simple command. 1) Which one is left? 2) There is no folder marked ‘Games.’ But what makes this enterprise even more difficult is the fact that my lack of patience is dwarfed by that of my pupils. Rather than opening a file/the Internet/a program and waiting for it to open, they click over and over and over and over and… well you get the idea. And since our computers are fairly slow, this fun game overloads the computers and they freeze up. To fix this problem they usually unplug the computer and restart. Wow, writing all of this down makes me realize I have a billion miles to travel before I bridge the gap of understanding. It’s all about the journey though... right?

-For some strange reason since I have come to Jamaica fire seems to follow me. I joined an organization that had recently had two of its buildings burn down. I stayed in the Pegasus Hotel in Kingston. This hotel now has a new lobby since the other was charred beyond repair during my visit. And most recently one of the main buildings on the property of my apartment is now smoldering following a fire that claimed 2 of its 3 stories. I don’t think I have some sort ‘firebug’ curse upon me, but I am still looking for a place to stay during my next visit home.

-Today my goal is to buy a ceramic coffee mug. I have been using a plastic cup… the kind that when it heats up dumps carcinogens into my java. Damn you cancer-inducing plastic!!

-Back to the firebuggery… Why when things are on fire here in Jamaica do machetes appear out of know where? When the Pegasus was on fire, a guy was hacking at a doorknob with his machete. Really dude? What the hell? And when the building near my apartment caught fire, some dude is on the roof hacking shingles with his cutlass. This bring two concerns to my mind 1) Where do they keep their machetes when things are not on fire? Machetes seemingly appear from thin air; maybe they have surgically inserted sheaths in their legs. 2) What exactly is the utility of hacking things during a fire (especially the doorknob)?

- Rather than giving confrontational bums money I am now giving a business card that reads:
GOD LOVES YOU
EZEKIEL 23:19-20
This has significantly cut down on bum harassment, thank God.

-I made dinner the other night. I asked Erin what she wanted to eat and all she wanted was a toasted PB & Honey sandwich. Today I am making Ham and Beans. Soak beans overnight, (next day)put beans in pot, cover with water, put ham hock on top of beans, cook on low for 4 hours. I cannot believe this what has become of my culinary expertise. Oh how I miss the days where I would carry a butane torch in my truck so I could make crème brûlée anytime, anywhere.

People are strange, when you're a stranger...Patrick

Wet cement, outside, it's drying, fast, come on! This is a life long dream. What do I write?

Recently I have been posting ruminations and other non-informative posts rather than the exciting narrative exploits you all have grown used to. I apologize to those of you who expect more. However Erin and I have our hands in a number of various pots currently and we have let our blog suffer a bit. We will try to do better in the future.

Yesterday I traveled to Kingston for a few meetings. Each trip seems to come with built in oddities, yesterday’s being the sighting of a man dressed in a chicken costume handing out flyers for Burger King in downtown Kingston. I guess this wouldn’t necessarily strike everyone as strange, but in Jamaica, I have never seen blatant commercialism directed at local inhabitants. The ridiculous advertising schemes seem to be solely targeted at tourists.

Reflecting upon the chicken-man sighting left me feeling a bit strange, though the chicken nuggets I didn’t buy from BK my have been the real culprit. I think being here almost a year allows me to include myself in the local population rather than grouping myself among tourists. However, it is obvious that I am not a native Jamaican. So my place somewhere in the ‘Jamerican’ middle ground has allowed me to avoid being advertised to almost entirely. But the chicken-man ploy seemed to be intended for me; the BK chicken-man wanted ME to eat their BK chicken. If there is one thing I hate, it is being the direct object of any sentence (at least ones that require my direct object-ness to be advertised to). Their yellow-feathered gambit was unsuccessful and I chose to buy my vittles from another establishment. This decision was not made because the (Burger) King himself transparently made me the direct object of his ludicrous
marketing scheme complete with a Big Bird cameo… No I made my decision because BK uses meat from local farms. Normally I am in favor of supporting local farms. Though despite having no evidence that the meat BK uses has any problems with it, Jamaica does not maintain the best track record for the refrigeration of perishable foods.

I listened to a Simon and Garfunkel live concert coming home from K-town. I have always respected the duo, but my respect has grown for them in recent months. Mrs. Robinson is a great song. It plays a major role in the classic movie ‘The Graduate’, is applicable even today, and employs the harmonious union of two male voices that only Paul and Art seem capable. What you ask?.. It is applicable today?.. Patrick, are you being seduced by a woman twice your age? No, there are no middle-aged women currently after Tricio, at least that I know of. However the lines:

"Sitting on a sofa on a Sunday afternoon.
Going to the candidate's debate.
Laugh about it, shout about it
When you've got to choose
Every way you look at this you lose."

The lyrics seem like they were written for the 2008 presidential elections. I am very disappointed in the current candidates as the three viable candidates are:
1) A woman that repeatedly lied about being under sniper fire to garner support , will use any unscrupulous tactic necessary to win and once told her husband during his presidency that he should ‘screw em,’ referring to the white middle class, a sect of the public she is now “championing.”
2) A billion-year-old warmonger who would support a 100 year war in Iraq (if necessary) and who has folded on important issues to pander to a right-wing conservative base.
3) An inexperienced senator who still speaks of changing politics while stooping to the mud-slinging tactics indicative of his opponent and has a proclivity to hang out with nefarious fellows and bails on them when discovered (I have friends whose opinions I don’t necessarily agree with but I would back them up and say that while they might not carry the opinions necessary of the commander-in-chief that I do and that while their opinions may be inflammatory that they are good people/Americans).

I agree with Paul and Art. You got it right boys, anyway I look it we lose. I hope, if nothing else, that we pick the least of all evils.

Where did you go Joe DiMaggio? I would like know. Patrick

Everybody likes new inventions, new technology. People will never be replaced by machines. In the end... computers are trying to murder you in a lake

Modern conveniences. Bah! Who needs ‘em? Not us. Do you know how I made my coffee this morning? If you guessed coffee maker deduct 15 points from your current score. If you guessed that I dumped boiling water over coffee grounds and strained it through a paper towel lined wire colander, give yourself 15. I realize being in Jamaica that I am extremely lucky to have access to the modern conveniences that I do. Really the only thing keeping me having a microwave, coffee maker, and a clock radio is money. I also realize that by signing up for PC that I was essentially signing up for poverty. Having such rigid budget restrictions has taught me a lot about my spending habits. It also reinforces the lesson about only spending money you have. Ain’t no credit cards here folks. It makes you think pretty hard about buying that 6-pack of Red Stripe when you know that if I buy this now I won’t have enough money to pay for fresh produce in a week or two.

My brain produces some of the most bizarre dreams. I choose not to share most of these. With my dreams as evidence, my lunacy would be undoubtedly proven. Despite these reservations I am going to share with you my most recent dream mostly because it runs a bit more humorous and a bit less crazy. I have a dream…

In my dream I was Barack Obama’s son. I still looked like me and had my same mannerisms so I must have been an adopted son or something. Anyway he encouraged me to campaign heavily for him and I enthusiastically did so. My active role in his campaign allowed me to rub elbows with the US elite and I had a fantastic time sarcastically mocking the other candidates. But when the time came to vote in November, I felt the pull of my political philosophy and voted for the Libertarian candidate. I returned to campaign headquarters and watched the results reported by the major networks. Papa Obama, obviously nervous, was pacing around as some states went red and others pulled blue. Abruptly he stopped his pacing and pulled me aside and asked me if I voted for him. I was completely honest and said that despite being his son and thinking the world of the man that I did not believe in his politics and voted Libertarian. He then proceeded to beat me, like literal biblical smack down.

To bring this blog entry full circle, the modern convenience that I would love to do without is 24-freakin’-hour-a-day coverage of the GD election. It is obviously invading my mind. The ceaseless reporting of the political race, combined with my extreme nocturnal boredom, is most assuredly the root of my baby-Bama drama. I would gladly exchange CNN, CNN Headline news, FOX news, MSNBC, even BBC America for a washing machine. Hell, I would exchange those soulless media channels for a French press. Mmmmm, coffee that doesn’t faintly taste of Bounty paper towels.

want it to be fast, quick cuts. You know, youthful, sort of, um, MTV on crack kind of thing.

If nothing else being here has provided me the opportunity to experience other musical genres. Before coming to Jamaica I was almost strictly a classic rock kinda guy. I liked jazz, a few jam bands, some folk-y guys with guitars, and pretty much anything with a quality guitar lick. You couldn’t say I had a closed mind as far my musical preferences, but I wasn’t actively seeking any new ear candy. I would occasionally stumble on a new artist or hear about a band from my sister or friends. Also during two formative university years I drove the Green Chick Mobile, a ’94 Dodge Caravan that lacked a radio, and for that matter a heater. Not that having a large van didn’t have its perks, especially when there were 10+ drunkards at your house and you were trying to get them all to the bars in one trip (p.s. whoever now owns Chicky… the mysterious stain in the back is from Dover violently vomiting on his 21st birthday… at 7:00 pm… he didn’t make it too long.) Not having a radio in your primary transportation really limits your exposure to new music, but Big Green did have a small living room in the back complete with couch and Playstation 2.

Anyway back to the point… experiencing new musical genres. Being here, for me, has slowed down life considerably. You know… the stopping to sniff flowers and all. It has also allowed me many hours to listen to artists I had never before listened. To be honest, I would not have been super-interested in giving a lot of the people I now consider staples a chance.

Many of you are fantastically busy and probably never spend any time looking for new music. I have it pretty easy as the strange mix of PC volunteers comes with a fairly wide taste in music and they provide me with new-to-me stuff all the time. I think that experiencing a new band, at least to you, is a positive thing. So I challenge you, even those of you with extra hectic schedules, to take 10 minutes, get online, and turn a couple aural tricks. Right now Josh Ritter is getting quite a bit of playtime on my iTunes. Check him out and let me know the new-to-you musical genius you find so I can check them out too.

Music appreciation is an innate behavior…its evolution…don’t fight it… Patrick