#outlish

To me, banking in Trinidad and Tobago, is a horrific experience, but am I alone in this belief that banks are the spawn of Satan himself?

I consider myself to be a true child of the islands. No matter where I go in this world, my roots will forever and nostalgically be planted in the warm soils of the Caribbean. If I’m being honest, however, the decisions that I have made about the kind of life that I now live are seemingly at odds (according to some) with my Caribbean upbringing.

...my clichéd aspiration of being a globe trotter does not mesh with my periodic fear of the plane careening into the Atlantic, and the inconveniences that have become mainstays of flying.

Whether it’s a house lime or work party, there are some cardinal sins to stay away from this season – either to save yuh from looking like the less appreciated relative of reindeers (an ass), or being automatically uninvited from future limes.

Real pressed for time.

Full lineup:

Sugar Cake and Aloes: The Travellers’ Diaries by Tamika Gibson

Things not to say at a Christmas Lime by Karel Mc Intosh

Banking in T&T: Irritating, Irritating, Irritating by Kern Elliott

Does Keeping up The Illusion mean Keeping your Partner? by Simone Dalton

Gay Abroad, Closeted at Home: How it Hurts by Kevin Campbell

Is "Twilight" teaching Young People to Accept Abuse? by Joshua Ramirez Wharwood

Friends also provide random company on any given evening to come and eat the groceries you just bought. It is a well-oiled machine when the relationship is intact, but when the breakup comes, what happens to the friends? Do they get split up? Who gets to keep who? 

Sometimes I dream of installing a Mactruck’s horn in my hatchback, so that I could scare the living daylights out of discourteous and dangerous drivers (and de people who take dey time to cross de lights by City Gate). I also dream about ramming into them (de drivers, that is) just fuh spite. But on the roads, reality rules.

Guest writer Patrice Grell Yursik (aka Afrobella) on becoming an American citizen.

When I left my homeland of Trinidad and Tobago for Miami, Florida in 1998 I didn’t think to myself; “Say goodbye to your old life, Patrice. You’ll never live here again.” It wasn’t that serious.