Post in Three Parts

So, I've been a delinquent in this whole blogging business, but I might get back into it this summer -- we'll see. The following post will be tripartite because I have much to tell you all. Each part is longer than its preceding section, so read what you will.

Part 1:

Apparently on Blogger, one can now schedule posts for the future. The purpose of this feature is two-fold: if I want to post something at a specific time, say New Year's Eve at midnight, now I can do it without being tied to my computer; alternately, if I was actually one of those regular bloggers and I wanted to continue with "regular" updates while I was on a three-week vacation, I could write three of them now and have one update itself each week automatically. So, I could potentially forecast how I'm going to feel about my trip to Montana, write it now, and set it to post while I'm in Montana, so that you all can believe that it's really my experience while there. I could also set up birthday posts for all my friends, one by one. Does this remind anyone else of the April Fool's Day hoax that Google set up for GMail, when they offered a limited number of "time-stamped e-mails" that could be set up to look as if they had been sent hours, days, weeks, or months before they had actually been sent? (Pretend as if you actually remembered your mother's birthday!) One of my friends actually bought into that hoax. Hilarious. I sent him an e-mail (which arrived in his inbox time-stamped, as it usually does) and he called me and told me that we had a limited number of time-stamps so that I should be careful of how I used them.

Part 2:

I've graduated. How crazy is that? I'm done. Four years of suffering (sweat, blood, tears, nose snot, the works) over. I find it surreal to know that I won't be coming back to this area come August. I've been here for six years now. I drive the roads and know more or less where all the routes will take me. I have made and broken friendships, fallen in and out of love, climbed trees, sprained / inflamed / dislocated various body parts -- I mean, this has really been home. I was fine with this whole graduation business right up until the day of graduation. Then it was over, and a wave of sadness washed over me. It wasn't the same feeling of alienation I experienced when I finished boarding school four years ago. I didn't feel as if the campus didn't belong to me, as I felt then. The campus was still mine, in a sense, but the people I knew, who co-owned it with me, were no longer there. Our ownership was already lessening; this was the calm in the eye of the hurricane before the passage of the other, stronger side. My family and I packed and watched as the other people on my hall finished packing and came and said goodbye and left. And then we were the ones saying goodbye and leaving. My grade point average is now set in stone; I know what kind of Latin honors I've graduated with; I know how many awards I have won; I know how many friends I have lost; more importantly, I know who are the friends that I have kept and will continue to keep. In short, all the mysteries are no longer mysteries. It was this final revelation that saddened me, particularly when coupled with the disappearance of the familiar faces. The balance had been broken, completely subverted: the mystery that had kept me going all these years was explained, my faith in some positive outcome no longer necessary; at the same time, the people who had helped me keep that faith were fading away, scattering to the far corners of the earth, and becoming more mysterious with every passing moment. No more would I be able to round the corner and knock on their doors. No more would the farthest be only 10 minutes' walk away. No more would I be able to rely on the college gossip mill for consistent updates on the most secluded ones' lives. And no more would I need to wonder how it would all pan out. The unseen was now seen; the seen, disappeared.

And then yesterday, I learned that my feet have grown to a 43.5 European sizing, which is to say, a size 10.5 MEN's. Shoot me now. I don't even want to know what I should be wearing in women's shoes. And in that way, I got over my sadness about Commencement. Life goes on.

Part 3:

First some links, because I'm getting tired and I might forget to incorporate them into my response. The topic? Homosexuality, crime and Jamaica. Yes, fun, fun, fun. Not topics I usually combine in public forums, mostly because I'm busy trying to highlight the good in my country -- it's so easy to see only the bad. This will be a shorter post than previously envisioned; I'm fading fast.

Hardtalk - Bruce Golding BBC Interview Uncut Youtubes 1, 2, and 3
One New York Times Article
Another NY Times Article
The Gleaner's take on the whole thing

First of all, if I were Bruce Golding sitting there hearing that intro that the HARDTalk host (Stephen Sackur) gave, I would have felt like a piece of s**t. Most murderous country in the world? What an introduction. I must give journalistic kudos to Sackur -- this was real hard talk, not like the so-called political talk shows you get in the United States. And then poor Brucey when he heard the figures from Transparency International. It was like he couldn't even believe it himself. But when he worked out that he had an out from under the weight of those damning statistics, oh the jovial lip-pointing and the relieved smile. The half-laughing Bruce of this section provides a stark contrast to the Brucey that dodges and weaves as he sweats during the first part of the interview on Jamaica's stance on homosexuality. He knows that he's in a damned if he does, damned if he doesn't situation. There's no way that he can please everybody. So, after flopping like a fish through half of it, he decides to make a stand. Sure they can be in the cabinet. Not mine, not mine, not mine, he repeats, almost compulsively, as a ward against evil, the second "not mine" a weak mockery of Aslan roaring to protect the integrity of Narnia.

The intentional exclusion of homosexual persons from positions of influence in government has everything to do with equality before the law. Though, to be fair, I don't believe that Jamaica has any laws on the books guaranteeing a lack of discrimination based on sexuality. Even so, JFLAG is trying to push for sexuality to included as a forbidden discrimator in the "new" Constitution, i.e. the one that parliament has been trying to give birth to for 10 years now, and I'll be lucky to witness being made into law while I'm still alive.

I am all for resisting cultural imperialism and the idea that Jamaica is not going to allow values to be imposed on it from outside. This is the quote that everybody in support of this interview loves. At the same time, there's a reason that discriminatory regimes have not functioned well in society, and it's not just because the rest of the world hates them. Significant social capital is lost when people discriminate. I suppose the moral counterargument would be that one should stand strong on principles, but the NYTimes does make a good point when it notes that people in Jamaica (like people all over the world) quote the Bible selectively at each other.

I do not know that that is necessarily the direction in which I necessarily want my country to go. Well, the only direction I want my country to go is up, Brucey. Let's make that happen, nuh? Focus on crime, do what you want with your Cabinet, but remember that the world is watching and crimes against gay people are, well, crimes.

Lastly, a sad tidbit from last week's Gleaner's Tuesday gossip column (May 20, 2008):

3. Life is cheap

Those who have connections with the underworld say it only takes $5,000 to have a person killed. When one considers that amount is less than US$100, one begins to understand the monster that is trawling the streets.

I'm already having problems figuring out what sort of meaningful occupation I could hold if I were to go home -- all the things I really like to do and am best at would either not support me in Jamaica or are sufficiently different that I would probably hate them there -- and now, this sober reminder of how far Jamaica has gone to the dogs. I would seriously reconsider my plans to go home if I weren't so committed to helping the country. God damn nationalistic fervor. God help me when I finally get home. I tell people that crime and violence really isn't so bad, and I know as I say it that it's a half-lie, but the other side of the coin is that a half-lie is also indicative of a half-truth. Right? Right?

OK, really tired now. We're getting into this-is-way-past-my-bedtime hours. Plus, I just got a new, ridiculously ridiculously expensive Sonicare toothbrush that makes my mouth all tingly when I use it, so I'm going to get on that before I pass out for the night. Sweet dreams to you all.

Love,
Katherine