Racial Profiling??? I think not…

A Dose of Fousey…

Just so we’re clear… this Vlogger, Dose Of Fousey called this racial profiling. How??? Lol! I get that he may have felt that he was wrongfully pulled over but let’s be honest… how is the officer supposed to know that he was even within the 3 month time frame to get the proper plates without pulling him over first?? Why was he driving with an expired driver’s licence??? If this was a Black man it would have gone down TOTALLY different.

#1. Fousey would not have been able to tape this entire occurrence #2. Throughout the video he continually threw verbal jabs and smart remarks at the police officer even AFTER he did him the COURTESY of waiting for his friend to come drive his car home for him instead of just impounding it. #3. NO police officer has to wait THIRTY MINUTES to TWO HOURS for a friend to show up when your licence is expired so not to have your car impounded.

If this were truly an example of REAL racial profiling, subsequent to Fousey being pulled over he would have been told to turn off his camera. If he refused, he may have been arrested or shot. Upon his snide remarks to the police officer, he may have been arrested or shot. Upon exiting his vehicle, he may have been arrested or shot, OR cuffed and made to wait inside of the police car. And lastly, that “brand new car” would have been what? IMPOUNDED!

This is NOT an example of racial profiling. THIS, is an example of what happens when you’re pulled over for driving without plates, having an expired driver’s license, acting like a douche-bag and getting away with it all whilst not having your car impounded.

I absolutely loved his video with the rape victim alongside a few other videos I peeped; but this is an abomination and a mockery of a real serious issue for some. THIS IS NOT A VIDEO ON RACIAL PROFILING!!! There are people who seriously struggle with this and have even lost their lives as a result. Sandra Bland, Mike Brown, Eric Garner, and even Muslim teen Ahmed Mohamed are REAL examples of racial profiling; not this.

Personally, I’ve had a Dose of Fousey and I’m sorry to say but Fousey clearly is not FDA approved. I was left puzzled by Fousey’s vlog this time, and I do not agree. He expresses in the start of the video that he allegedly learned a lesson; let’s hope so.

***You may Fast-forward past Fousey’s useless blabber in order to get to the actual police confrontation at five minute, and thirteen seconds into the video, (5:13).***

Keisha N. Knibbs

Love

Love; both a verb and a noun

It can hurt more than anything

You may give it, yet it may not be reciprocated

You may share it, but not get any in return

You may live by it, but those you love may not

To live and to love should be the only to laws of this world

Those two words alone trump any law ever written

If you live and love there would be no murders, hate crimes, racism, discrimination etc.

Living and loving is what the world lacks most today

Harmony, collaboration, community are words we seldom use in our daily vocabulary

Am I the only one left who feels this way?

If people were just living to love, the world would be such a better place. Things like hurt, pain and poverty would be eradicated.

Love; both a verb or a noun

In 2015 it seems that we have taken on the word solely as noun as a substitute to applying it to our actions

A PSA to any of my readers who are living and loving; don’t stop.

Keep going despite the naysayers, the haters, the wolves in sheep clothing, the seemingly new age norm.

Live and love like never before.

Live and love despite the screw faces, the doubters and those you thought were for you whom aren’t. Continue to LIVE and love them anyway.

Love; more of a noun and less of a verb?

Y’all tell me…

Keisha N. Knibbs

Ecstasy

Ecstasy’s establishment…

Hearts racing, fingers tracing

Unseen body parts as clothes depart

Wandering eyes, parting thighs

Black berries, sweet cherry

Lips touching, hands searching

Body yearning, crescendo climbing

Body Shivers, climatic quivers

Overwhelming emotion, moving in slow motion

Cold sweat, hot flesh

Deep breaths, bodies wet

Intertwined, lustful minds

Endorphins released, rise of internal heat

Waterfalls from internal walls

Supremacy of intimacy

Legs trembling, composure disassembling

Succumbing to orgasms and body spasms

Heart rates slow, kisses bestowed

Arms wrapped around, listening to the sound

Of our rhythmic breathing as we lay sleeping

Ecstasy’s end…

…for now.

Knibblettes

My Heart & Soul

Today my baby sister turned 21!

It’s kind of surreal to see this once little person grow, mature, and blossom into an intelligent, beautiful, young woman right before my eyes. We may have our differences but make no qualms about it, and make it be known to the world that I love my sister.

I hope that my mini Picasso, pseudo virtuoso enjoyed her 21st Birthday today as much as I enjoyed spending it with her.

Just as the song goes: “that little kiss you stole, held onto my heart and soul”.
Her first drool kiss that is, followed by a drooly toothless smile. That among other things over the years, have stuck to my heart and soul.

The first time she was able to say my name, the first time she said: “I wuv you”, the first song I taught her how to play on the piano and today, her Twenty First Birthday.

So today I thanked God that I have been blessed to have had my sister for 21 years and my prayer is always that He sustains her for infinite years are to come.

“Heart and soul, I fell in love with you. Heart and soul, the way a fool would do. You are my heart and soul.”

21 Years Ago Today…

Me: “Can I have a sister? Please?? Mommy?? Daddy?? Can I??” As though sisters can be bought from a store in the mall like the latest Mattel Barbie Doll or like a ripe piece of fruit off a tree ready to fall.

Mom: “I’m pregnant Keisha; you’re going to be a big sister.”

Me: “Omg! I can’t wait! Is it a girl? Will I have a sister? I’m dying to know. I need to know!”

I ran around apt 1202 at 5580 Sheppard Avenue East, my faith in prayer had just increased! Screaming, jumping and shouting for joy as though I’d won the lotto or got a new toy.

Mom: “We’ll have to wait nine months before we know Keish.”

“Me: I can’t wait that long, what if it’s not a girl? Do we have to wait nine months? I want a little sister so bad! I need a little sister! This is what I’ve been asking for!”

*** Nine months later ***

Tick, toc! Tic, toc! Tic, Toc! I just can’t stand the monotony of this clock.

Waiting outside the tightly shut operation room door, eyes fused to the clock I was beginning to abhor.  They forbade me from to entering the room – running out of patience – I just wanted you out of the womb.

I wanted in so bad because I still required the answer to the burning question that I had.

Butterflies, butterflies, butterflies consumed me!

Anticipating the answer to my nine month question: Which one will it be?

Boy or a girl…

The shut door opened…

Rejoicing, gleeful, ecstatic, and overjoyed!  Delighted, jovial, lucky, and in an instant my tears were deployed.

No words to describe the feelings I felt when I heard the words, “It’s a girl”. I was so eager to give this big sister thing a whirl.

I was so happy I couldn’t contain myself; it was as though I’d seen Santa and one of his Elves.

Then I saw you: light brown, almond eyes, itty bitty hands, tiny nose, cute as ever and perfect lil toes. The wait was well worth it, and it was about time! At that moment it sunk in; you’re really all mine!!

I couldn’t wait to play dollies, have tea parties and bake. To mentor you, hug you and kiss you when you ache.

Be there for you every single step of the way; but for some reason as of late I feel like you’ve gone astray.

I know we all have our own plight as individuals in this mucky old world but I also know that you’re very smart and born an intelligent girl.

So whatever it is that you’re going through, please always remember that I prayed for, wished for and will always unconditionally love you.

Happy 21^st Birthday Kiana! God bless you and keep you that your days be long on this earth and I thank Him every single day that on July 28^th 1994 mommy gave birth; to you.

My baby sister.

– Keish

Don’t Shoot! God is watching.

“I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe”, were the last words out of Eric Garner’s mouth before he succumbed to Officer Daniel Pantaleo’s choke hold. Having watched the video in its entirety I can attest to Garner’s takedown as being excessive, lewd and a downright outrageous display of so-called police work.

In addition to confining Garner in a choke hold, the video being taped by another civilian clearly shows Pantaleo also smashing Eric Garner’s head into the cement sidewalk. Meanwhile the other officers attempt to hold down, restrain and handcuff Garner; all of them refusing to acknowledge his cries and dismissing the dying man’s pleas for air.

On the 17^th of July 2014, in Staten Island, New York, 3 grandchildren, 6 children and widowed Esaw Garner have been left without their grandfather, father, and husband. The youngest of Garner’s children was only 3 months old and has been robbed of the opportunity to get to know their father. Garner was the type of black man we are in such desperate need of in our communities; one who was always there for his children and ever present in their lives. Now Esaw will become another statistic: single black mother raising her children alone.

What I find particularly perturbing is how the media attempted to defame Garner in their portrayal of him. Garner was illustrated as a man who had been known to police since the 80’s for assault, resisting arrest, marijuana possession, driving without a licence, grand larceny and for multiple incidents where he was selling unlicensed cigarettes.  Not to say that Garner was not culpable for those crimes but why defame a dead man?

I find it droll that the media failed to publicize that Garner had begun to seek out legal aid in order bring his arrests to trial under the civil right/equal rights legislation. In 2007 Garner had filed a complaint in federal court because the officer involved had conducted a cavity search on him in the street while other civilians were passing by. That is degrading, humiliating and another example of police abusing their authority.

On the other hand, Daniel Pantaleo was depicted as a college graduate and honorary officer whose father and uncle also served the NYPD.  Subsequently, Pantaleo was also the subject of two civil rights lawsuits in 2013 where he was accused of abusing and falsely arresting the plaintiffs. In one of the incidents which involved Pantaleo, he and the other officers had ordered two black men to take off all their clothes in the street to conduct a search. Pantaleo was not charged.

Much to the dismay of the black community, on December 3^rd 2014 Daniel Pantaleo managed to yet again slip through the cracks of justice and was not indicted for Garner’s murder.

Similarly to Garner, on August 9^th 2014 18 year-old Michael Brown was gunned down in Ferguson, Missouri by Officer Darren Wilson. A total of twelve shots were allegedly fired with the fatal shots striking Brown in his head and another to his chest.  Officer Wilson would also not face a conviction and was not indicted for the murder of Michael Brown. The shooting in Ferguson caused uproar; both peaceful and violent protests riddled the town for weeks after Wilson’s acquittal.

As an African-Canadian and as a Black woman I am both sickened and saddened by the recent violence that has stricken our community. Justice is not being served and is being warped in favour of these seemingly unqualified police officers. What ever happened to serve and protect? It seems like somewhere along the line this rule has been modified to serve and protect only those of no colour.

In my humble opinion, we can protest, riot and lash out all we want, what it really boils down to is that the elites that run this world have had a plan in place from the beginning of time. A plan that unfortunately never intended to include blacks, rather one designed to oppress and suppress us.

God is not sleeping. These officers may have been acquitted of murder today, however they are not immortal. They too will expire one day. When that day does come they will be judged by the All Mighty and they WILL need to answer to HIM! The judge of ALL judges, the Alpha and Omega will hold each and every one of them accountable for their actions. No court room, no prosecution, no defence, no lawyers, no judges, no jurors; just them and God.

“For the wrath of God is revealed from Heaven, against all ungodliness, and unrighteousness because that which is known about God is evident within them”, (Romans 1:18 NKJV).

May Eric Garner, Michael Brown, and anyone else who has fallen victim to the oppressors Rest in Eternal Peace. Also, may their families and friends find solace knowing that they are in a better place; one where the oppressor does not prevail.

GOD IS NOT SLEEPING.

Keisha N. Knibbs

“BOMBSHELL TONIGHT!” (In my best Nancy Grace voice)

So Kockroach – oops – I mean Karrueche took to Twitter last night expressing that she is “done” with singer Chris Brown and that there will be “no baby mama drama” for her.

Since that tweet my Instagram timeline has been blowing up with posts from girls and woman expressing their sympathy and condolences to Kockr-uh-Karrueche and their disdain regarding how Chris Brown has treated her.

Now, I fully understand that it is human nature to relate, empathize, sympathize and socialize and I for one am all for women empowerment. But let’s be honest, is this “news” really that important?

I mean who cares if Miss Koochie and Brown aren’t together? Who cares if she slept with or is sleeping with Drake? Point is, tabloids and celebrity media have been around for decades but since social media came about things have been taken to a whole new unnecessary extreme.

These days people – especially the younger generation – pay far too much attention to and care way to much about regular sh** – allow me to reiterate – REGULAR SH**  that happens within the lives of these celebs.

People break up, cheat, make up and have babies outside of relationships every single day, (yes, believe it or not it’s true)! When is the last time you publicized your break up or had friends bash an ex for treating you oh so terribly via social media? I’ll bet seldom to never.

So why is my timeline on fire with a plethora of woman posting about “poor Karrueche”? Here’s another surprise for a few of you, “poor Karrueche” is rich. Yes y’all rich!! You mean you didn’t know?!

“Poor Karrueche” knew that Chris Brown was an abuser before they dated; “poor Karrueche” knew that CB had been unfaithful to her in the past and yet still made a conscious decision to continue to pursue a relationship with him. “Poor Karrueche” got lucky and fell into a celebrity’s bed which equals trips, fine dining and a Ferrari… Yes y’all poor Queen Kouchness.

What about the poor children in Africa still experiencing famine in unlivable conditions? What about the poor single mothers trying to get by while raising children on their own in a system created to keep them at a stagnant level of mediocrity? What about the working class like you and I being taxed waaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyy too much while these celebs continue to live lavishly off of freebies and our hard earned money? What about this poor society that has been conditioned to push aside real life topics that should really matter, to instead dwell on these regular people we call celebs, (yes, they too hail from planet Earth).

If Kim K gets a new outfit, I hear about it. If baby North cuts a new tooth, I hear it about. Hell, if Blue Ivy falls and scrapes her knee that’s considered “breaking news”. Come oooooonnnnnnnnnn!!!!! Why is society so concerned about these elites who don’t give a damn about us? They just want to make sure their next album sells or that the movie they are starring is nominated for an Academy Award.  Someone please tell me the last time Karrueche did something for you or something that impacted your life. Something other than: fashion fads and “giving you life” by sleeping with your “dream man” Chris Brown? Don’t rush… I’ll wait….

To further my point, who really breaks up via Twitter or any form of social media for that matter? In my humble option, if you see this as fit means to end a relationship quite frankly you shouldn’t be in one, and should stay out of them until you’re able to deal with things like a mature sound minded human being capable of rationale. To be honest, tweeting a break up is quite juvenile and should only be expected and accepted from children 12 and under; maybe 13.

On top of that, whether good or bad; news is news to these celebs and it helps generate their popularity. This also adds desperate to my list of things to describe Miss Karutches.  Desperate for attention; which sadly too many of you have given her. This means she’ll probably never stop, and if/when she decides to get back with Brown I’ll be timeline spammed once again. Does Kakaface not possess enough of her own “star power” and charisma to generate a crowd on her own? Must she so desperately play on Chris Brown’s notoriety and fame in order to fan her rapidly diminishing flame? Can someone please tell me, what does Kockroach do? Someone please let me know. Apparently she’s a fashion designer, (her along with a million other Social Media Enthusiasts; except she slept with her sponsor). You ever see anyone on the red carpet talking about how their gown is a custom Karrueche dress? Nope; never heard of it.

Lastly, it really saddens my soul to the core to see just how far some of these girls and woman who do not know her will go!! This afternoon my cousin made a comment underneath one of the Kooch and CB posts on Instagram. She simply stated that there are much more prevalent issues at hand going on in the world, only to be bashed, called a hater, blocked, and unfollowed. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if they even reported her IG page. Apparently she seemed “Hella mad” and inquiring minds needed to know why she was so “mad”. I think it’s hilarious!!!!

The last time someone had something to say about or to you Miss @healthy_hair_journey was Kooche and her posse there to step in for you? Lol. Didn’t think so.

Social media is about sharing. There is a comment section for a reason. Don’t get offended. Just have a level-headed debate and/or sometimes just agree to disagree. Don’t get upset. Why you are you mad Miss @healthy_hair_journey ? If you ask me, sounds like @healthy_hair_journey is the ones who was mad, (literally and figuratively speaking) and for all the wrong reasons. Perhaps @healthy_hair_journey and her crew were/are far too narrow-minded and/or ignorant to comprehend.

In other real news, soldiers are still dying in a war we really don’t know much about, innocent children around the world are dying, famine still exists and the Earth still rotates around its own axis from West to East as it turns counter-clockwise.

Yes, social media is about freedom to voice ones thoughts, feelings etc. but is it too much to ask for some substance?

– Keisha N. Knibbs

I Think I Need a Shrink

I think I need a shrink

I just need to take a moment to think

And unbiased opinion

Someone to listen

While I yap about life

The good, bad, ugly, and my strife

Maybe cry, or get angry without anyone to tell me, “Hmmm, you’re usually so happy”

I think I need a shrink because everyone else’s shit is starting to stink

And quite frankly I’m beginning to sink beneath everyone’s

Dilemmas, plights, predicaments, and difficulties

Quandaries, distresses, misfortunes and anxieties

I want to fix it all, lend a helping hand, an ear, anything I can

How dare I put those before me say others

Don’t they know you have your own blunders?

But where would they be today had I not taken the time to say

Yes you can, you’re better than that; don’t let them turn you astray

Family is my weakness, close friends are too

“Yes, yes Keisha but what about you?”

What about me, I’m still living.

I’ve learned to cope, to deal, and to keep on forgiving

Maybe it’s forgiveness that keeps my soul sound

Or maybe it’s because I have an amazing cat around

Whatever it is, I think I need a shrink

I just want a moment to think

I need an unbiased opinion, someone who won’t talk; just listen

No judgement, No expectations No hums or haws

Just me, my shrink and our clause that states confidentiality

Cuz let’s face it the things I’ll tell her could ruin me

Not morally or socially but emotionally

I could suffer a breakdown on my shrink’s floor

Letting everything out that cannot be held in anymore

Pain, suffering, heartbreak, losses and hard times

Molestation, misdirection, and the corruption of an innocent mind

Divorce, financial woes, frenemies and foes

Life’s twists and turns, life’s up and downs

Life’s high and lows just true they don’t know what it’s like to me

Having this innate alacrity for anyone in my family tree

I need a shrink…

I think.

– Knibblettes

T’was the Night of the Turn Up!!!

T’was the night of the turn up and all through the house; not a creature was stirring, just this fly ass hard drinkin’ birthday mouse!
Her curls hung from her head top with care in hopes that the turn up soon would be there.

Binx Roy was nestled all snug in his bed, while visions of cat nip danced in his head.

Bashy in her hot dress and with a booty so fat, had concluded that this was indeed no time for a nap.

From outside the club there arose such a clatter, we sprang from the car to see what was the matter.

Away to the guest list line we flew like a flash, knowing it was the dance-floor we planned to mash.

The moon on Bashy’s 22 breast true her chest did ah show, gave lustre to her brown eyes wey did ah glow.

Then what to our wandering eyes did appear, but Ciroc, Champagne and a bottle of Belvedere!

A little ice in a glass we’re about to get lit, we knew in a moment that this would be it!

More rapid than a cougar that Ciroc vodka buzz came, as we whistled and shouted happy birthday again.

Now dash out! Now cock-up! Now whine pon a vixen! Pon di floor, pon di stair, pon di booth, whine pon any and any sinting!

From the top of the window, to the top of the wall! Now dash it out, dash it out, dash it out all!

High as the leaves we felt we could fly way up into the crisp, cold winter night sky.

So up to the DJ booth we flew, to request some Kartel, Demarco and Busy Signal too.

And then on the dance floor I heard through the speaker, “Position like dat!” this must be the Teacher!

As we cocked up and spun our bottoms around, ‘Dung In Her Throat‘ came on next through the sound!

Ashley whined all about and did ah cock-up her foot, dance fever ketch her and she couldn’t stay put!

Hands pon her knees while she ah sink in her back, she ah wine up herself to the riddim of RDX Kotch!

Her eyes how they twinkled, her giggle so merry! Booty so rosey and heart-shaped like a cherry!

On her face crept a grin drawn up like a bow, as she backed dat ass up; Wow, look at her go!

The end of a spliff Ash held tight in her teeth, true she look good and stay tight underneath!

Broad out!! Whine up and tuck in yuh belly! She ah whine pon Nona and ah whine pon Jelly.

Mi did ah whine up like sey it woulda good fi mi health. When di music lick me I juss can’t help miself.

The DJ spun the next tune with a nod of his head. Wooooooooooiiiieeee!! Jah know mi coulda split an go dung pon mi head.

The DJ spoke not a word but went straight to work, as we continued to party, dance around and twerk.

The lights came on and we temporarily froze, then continued to gambol and tip pon our toes.

Ash sprang to her feet and shot the whole team a “Queng!” We shut the club down, shut it down with a bang!

I heard Ashley exclaim as we left the club and went out of sight. “It’s my mother f**kin birthday and I had a great night!”

END

– Knibblettes

Passion

Passion: an intense desire or enthusiasm for something; a state or outburst of strong emotion, (Google). An emotion so strong and uncontrollable that sometimes the feeling has been so overwhelming that I’ve virtually been brought to tears. Having the knowledge of the upwards battle to come; that it will not come easy and can only be attained through blood, sweat, and tears is simply enough to make me cry. Nonetheless, still beyond worth it. Perhaps this is why the word passion is derived from the Latin word pati meaning suffer. You must first suffer before you can ever really prosper. In other words: “if yuh wan good yuh nose haffi run”.

Looking back on childhood I have numerous fond memories of my mom reading to me every day; story book upon story book. From the Bernstein Bears who taught life lessons, to Peter & Jane who taught me how to sound out words. By the time I was two I could recant the entire story of Rudolf the Red Nose Reindeer from memory and had just begun to discover my love for reading and writing.

I would sit in washroom for hours on end just so I could finish a good children’s book in uninterrupted solitude. Steadfastly, trying to get through as many books as I could, for with each completed book I was rewarded with new stickers for my Sandylion Sticker Album, (which I endearingly refer to as my Sticker Book). And not just any stickers went into my Sticker Book, those big, shiny and glittery Sandylion stickers; sometimes even the fuzzy ones, (that is if I felt for the fuzzy ones that day). There was always an array to choose from: instruments, ballerina bears, hearts, shooting stars, rainbows and butterflies. Dinosaurs, unicorns, trees, milkshakes & burgers, fruits and every single animal and even insect you could imagine! They had Noah’s ark, birthday stickers, every single holiday, and even some that were phosphorescent. My mom definitely did an astounding job in a fun way of instilling in me that knowledge is power. “Never forget that intelligence rules the world and ignorance carries the burden. Therefore, remove yourself from ignorance and seek as far as possible to be intelligent” (Marcus Garvey).

I recall watching the weather girl Jennifer Valentyne read the news on Toronto’s morning show Breakfast Television and emulating her spiel: “Today’s high is 20 degrees Celsius, with the barometric pressure steady rising…” From then I knew that this was what I ultimately wanted to do. It wasn’t until rather recently that I truly realized that it is also what I need to do.

However, it’s taken each and every situation I’ve encountered thus far to bring me to this point. Nevertheless, I still look back on the time and years gone by because I was too apprehensive to follow my dream and as a result sometimes feel melancholy. I convinced myself that a career in journalism and politics was far too competitive and that I would graduate and have no success finding employment. Even though I’m proficient in English, French and Sign Language, I did what I find a lot of us are conditioned to do. I took the “safe” route or for a lack of a better word the “realistic” route; just as Malcolm X was advised to do by his teacher Mr. Ostrowski in his Senior high school year. Yet knowing his personal potential, Malcolm made a decision not to settle for mediocrity.

What I’ve observed is that society has conditioned us to become respectable upstanding members of our community in menial jobs. A very small percentage of us actually have the courage to embark on a quest to attain our wildest dreams. Those who have that courage to go after the seemingly unattainable – in my humble opinion – are the definitions of success. Had I encompassed the courage to go for it I wouldn’t have wasted time and money studying to become a teacher and then later studying to become a Law Clerk. I went after those things because they were of interest; but not my passion and as a result I ended up withdrawing from the programs. Yet like Malcolm X, I too have decided to throw my trepidation to the wind and have decided to be a part of that small percentile of success.

Since those college days I’ve done a lot of growing personally, spiritually and overall have come to a sense of direction – which I suppose comes along with the territory of maturing. It wasn’t until losing my Grandma to liver cancer Christmas day 2012 that I began to fully understanding what life is really about. That was my pivotal moment.

Having six children back then, (one of which was just a baby) during her quest for success my Grandmother sewed children’s undergarments, clothes and sold peanuts in Kingston’s Coronation Market in order to attain her personal success. Her success story was emigrating from Jamaica to Canada. Even when she couldn’t find adequate childcare that did not stop her. Instead she prayed to God that her customers would come to her instead and began to hang her pieces in her veranda and window for passers-by’s to see. Just as God would have it and just as she had prayed it; people came. My Grandmother’s passion of choice was a better life for herself and her children. So as the story goes, she got things in order to migrate, and saved up her shillings she’d earned working to come to Canada. My Grandma, Edelta Balga Smith – affectionately known as Gloria – is a testimony of success. She went through rough times, trials and tribulations but by the seventies she’d managed to migrate with her six children to Toronto, Canada and was blessed again with the birth of her last and seventh child.

Subsequently, I’ve yet to obtain my definition of success. In no way am I downplaying myself as I’ve been effective and prosperous career wise thus far having worked for two of Canada’s leading banks, (Bank of Montreal and CIBC) as well as several other Financial Intuitions, but I have yet to be successful; at least to my definition of the word.

I’ve always had a deep-rooted, almost spiritual connection with Jamaica from when I was a young child. I remember always having a strong feeling that Jamaica was essentially home; I still do. I owe this connection to my father for immersing me in our culture by taking me to Jamaica countless times. Although I absolutely love the renovated airport, I miss waking directly off the plane, down the stairs and onto the tarmac at Norman Manley International and taking in that first breath of Jamaica air. Jamaica has so much potential and it saddens me to see our people literally aspire to leave. I would love to help make positive changes, a visible difference to better Jamaica. Over the decades I’ve seen Jamaica evolve and I’m so pleased to see my country of heritage progress. I want to leave my footprint in the evolution of Jamaica; our beautiful country has so much more to offer. Jamaica has been sought out as a staple as early as the 1600’s when Port Royal was still teeming with pirates and racketeers.

Thus I have concluded that studying political sciences and journalism will allow me the opportunity to not only help improve a nation but finally achieve success through pursuing my passions.

Piano and I

Solitude as I compose my life’s soliloquy

Secretly soul-searching sustainability

G minor is my major

G major is my minor

Music is my muse

My feelings expressed through music notes G to G.

I continue my melodic pursuit

Drifting key to key from sea to sea,

Desperately seeking serenity

My piano and I

G major is my minor

G minor is my major

Lost in the melodic journey

As my fingers take me

Further and further into my own biosphere

Where there is no fear

My Piano and I

G minor is my major

G major is my minor

Soaring high above those ivory keys

Chords resonating A C E G

Reminding me that life is a song

As long as a melody plays I can go on

Solitude as I compose my life’s soliloquy

Secretly soul-searching sustainability

G minor is my major

G major is my minor

Music is my muse

My Piano and I

– Knibblettes