Another year has passed. 365 days of angst, disappointment and fleeting glimmers of happiness; such is the wickedness of the cosmos that the only happiness we are ever allowed is just enough to build an appreciation for how miserable we actually are.
Yes, I have a tendency to process things through a warped lens of cynicism and negativity.
But it is difficult to hold my head high with the weight of what I know.
This country is set adrift on a sea of hopelessness, our craft is taking on water, its occupants are bailing with sieves.
It is customary to start the New Year with resolutions that imagine us taking control of our lives.
This exercise is just a wish list, rarely backed up by the commensurate will to achieve anything written on that throwaway, champagne-soaked napkin.
What we need are New Year’s revolutions, not resolutions; a radical departure from the way we order our lives in this broken civilisation.
So I am here to help with some tips on how to survive in this country without dependence on a cocktail of psychotropic palliatives or regular pickling at the rumshop.
Commit the sanity
prayer to memory
“God grant me sanity in the face of things I cannot change, sympathy for those unable to see the need for change, and hellfire for those for whom the status quo is quite lucrative.”
The pursuit of change has become addictive for me. It is easy to develop an unhealthy attachment to ideals which, in themselves, are entirely positive.
My problem is, I am so burdened with an appreciation for the boundless potential of this country, that the reluctance of the nation to embrace this potential foments toxic frustration in my heart.
Passion turns to poison, will withers into despair. If others are happy with the circumstances which confront this country, who am I to begrudge them the halcyon haze of their myopia? Let them do them and I’ll do me.
Let go and let God…
deal with dem
At the very top of my New Year’s revolutions is developing a resistance to the staggering ignorance dominant in what passes for debate here. I’ve come to accept that, if stupidity were a marketable commodity, we would have diversified the economy more than two decades ago.
Becoming ensnared in debates fuelled by blind political loyalty is utterly pointless. Although stupidity isn’t contagious for those inoculated with reason and intellect, it can have the side effect of exacerbating inflammation-inducing stress levels. ’Tis far better to yield to misanthropy than be worn down by the collective ignorance of the cultists.
Dealing with road hogs
There will always be motorists who will shoe-horn their way into my lane of traffic, the one which I joined dutifully at its head. I’ve been determined to punish inconsiderate behaviour by denying them entry. My fervour is such that I often risk colliding with them or the vehicle in front, so desperate am I to keep a gap so tight you couldn’t swipe a credit card between us. In such moments, I dream of owning a Bedford truck.
The thinking (admittedly foolish) was that the offending motorist would back down, mumbling inwards “Oh shocks, I really do chupidness dere, sorry dey breds!” It is really more like this: “Look at dis ass! He coulda well lemme pass, yuh too stink!”
Trinidadians will always believe they are right, particularly when they are wrong. None of my “educating” them will ever amount to anything other than a scuffed fender or, more likely, a traffic light punch-up.
Bad service
Eyes rolling back in the head like a demon possessed, the long, watery steups sucking all the air out of the room, the “it doh have dat” or “you go hah to come back tomorrow”; bristling at deplorable service in the public AND private sectors serves no purpose other than leaving me frazzled and the offending clerk/cashier/attendant equanimously indifferent.
Dressing down a slothful public servant or a cell phone-entranced store clerk is like dressing up a dog; they will wear it, but they will neither understand, nor care why they are being made to do so.
Henceforth I will suppress my expectations. Should there be surprise convulsions of polite attention and helpfulness, then the experience will be doubly rewarding, given that all I will ever cater for is the spittle-spray abuse of “Daiz de wrong form, go back and full it up ah-gain!”
I must defend against the tendency to be shaped by my circumstances, I must instead shape them. It accomplishes nothing to wallow in victimhood, bellyaching that all I hope to accomplish is thwarted at every turn by minds comforted by their tunnel vision.
I must control the outcome, my destiny isn’t influenced by my environment. I choose to look at this country as limited, not limiting.
I don’t know if any of this will actually work, some of it may read as a little specific to me. But there is a kernel of wisdom in there for everyone. Gird your loins, mount your revolutions one New Year at a time.