Last year, during my yearly facilitation of an event planning and cooking workshop for adolescent girls as part of an organization in which I’m involved, we ended up in a discussion about which organic food store would be closest so we could quickly shop, pay and get back to my house to prepare an appreciation dinner for their mothers. Aside from using my exposure to these girls as a barometer for my tolerance of adolescent estrogen in preparation for my own daughter’s transformation from girl to woman, it’s also an immensely fun activity to which I look forward every year because kids really DO say the darndest things.
One of the girls suggested that we head over to Whole Foods to do shopping. I didn’t get a chance to disengage from my mental debate over feeding the 15-passenger van for the day or my children for the week before I overheard another of the girls say “You mean Whole PAYCHECK?? That's what my mother calls it.” I laughed, because it was one of those laugh to keep from crying moments. Her mother was right. Eating right is expensive.
Let’s take bread and water, for example. They used to be universal diet basics. Prisoners and bad children were fed a diet of bread and water. Both are referenced over and over in the “big 3” holy books. Yet both bread and water have become woefully expensive commodities and class markers! People line up at specialty stores for loaves of "rustic" bread at more than $5.00/loaf. The labels and shapes of the plastic bottles of water people carry around say a lot about how much expendable income they have.
Not just that, but there’s this stigma that one is more “cultured and well-rounded and refined and all that good stuff” when one shops at Whole Foods or the other uber-expensive, upscale markets. I know you see them, crowded around the displays of lopsided, funny-colored “heirloom" tomatoes and gingerly nestling glass bottles of milk between the Greek yogurt and the multi-grain, non-GMO, gluten free item of the week.
Now please understand that I am not anti-eating well. I prefer to feed my family the good stuff. What I don’t like is the fact that according to our capitalist society, one must be a damn-near trillionaire to be able to afford a healthy diet.
I was recently reading the caloric breakdown of organic foods vs. high fat, simple carbohydrate, fast foods and found that it costs approximately 400% more per 100 calories to eat well than not! Our underserved communities are not organic food oases, but one can find a McDonalds, Wendy’s, or KFC in any given one of them that is able to feed a family of 4 from the Extra Value Menu for about $15. What will $15 get you at Whole Foods? Not much.
Farmers market you said? HA!! The farmers markets in my quickly gentrifying community still sell organic and locally grown items at a premium. I don’t blame them. Farmers gotta eat, too.
Gardening, you say? Really? And where? In my quickly gentrifying community, condos are replacing areas where vegetable gardens COULD have gone, and I’m not sure how much time the average single parent has to compost, and weed and seed between working two jobs to try to put food on the table.
Back in the day, I remember having loads of different fruits and vegetables at the ready. My mother fed me a primarily vegetarian, whole grain and legume- based diet because along with being healthier, it was also less expensive to NOT eat meat or fast food. She wasn’t a member of PETA (my mother loves very nice leather items) nor did I feel any more special because we belonged to a food co-op and ate organic produce.
Fast forward to 2009 and the other day, I purchased fruit for my children and balked at the price of oranges at $1.00 each. Non-organic cherries (YES EVEN IN SEASON) are rarely less than $4.99 a pound. The cost of my children’s daily packed lunches is approximately $5.00. I have two children who go to school every day. That’s $50/week for ONE MEAL A DAY. It’s not a game.
And our communities continue to be plagued by illnesses and ailments that can easily be reversed by simple dietary changes. Yet most don't have enough change to make the change.
Go figure.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Sunday, March 22, 2009
The Colors of My Letters and Numbers are Flyer than Yours
So, today I found a name for the condition that has plagued me all my life.
Perhaps "plagued" is not the best word, for the condition hasn't been unpleasant, itchy or putrid or anything like that. I've never needed a cream or liniment for it, and it is pretty much unseen by the public eye. For all intents and purposes, unless you really, really know me, you probably never even knew that I had the "condition".
It's called synesthesia.
I was listening to NPR tonight while washing dishes after a nutritious dinner of curried quinoa, collard and kale greens and salmon cakes when this segment of Soundprint came on. Seemingly otherwise normal people were talking about how they literally see the colors of numbers, letters and words. For some, there are even smells and textures associated with them, too.
All my life, I've seen my numbers and letters and words in colors. For example, the number three is always, always a deep navy blue. The word three, however is a mixture of colors, starting with a black t, and then slowly lightening from black to deep purple to blue to light blue.....
The number 1999 is yellow - bright, blinding, neon yellow. But the number 2000 is a very vivid red. However, the number 1 is not yellow, but a lime'ish green. The number 2 is red, but the zeros have no color.
My favorite words have colors, too - and sometimes textures, smells and animations. The word cacophony is a series of patterned letters - stripes, polka dots, checkers, herringbones, all stuck together with no clear logic, blinking individually -rhythmless and indistinct from its neighbor.
Pessimistic is slimy green, oozing from the double-s's and smelling badly.
Caustic is like an oil spill. In a sentence it sits above the other letters, undulating as if on an ocean, creating swirly rainbows on its surface.
Sychophant is red - actually crimson. It has the texture of the peel-able wax pencils that elementary school teachers used to check papers. It is equally indelible.
You can imagine that reading for me is a multi-sensory experience. It's not just the act of stringing letters together to make words to make sentences that make paragraphs, that weave chapters into stories. For me, reading is a seriously tactile act. Some authors are able to make word combinations that cause actual physical reactions in me. I remember the first time I read Song of Solomon and got so moved upon reading about Pilates lack of a navel that I had to put the book down and walk away. Reading that passage caused my body to flush from my hair follicles down to the pit of my abdomen.
Other writers, like Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (if you don't know her, this is your chance to google her and buy a book) are able to make words tell tragic tales with a level of humor and everydayness that is both heartbreaking and completely hilarious just by the combinations of words she uses.
I am currently reading Inside Inside by James Lipton. For the past few days, I've been trying to figure out why it's taking me so long to get through the book. Today I realized why. The words that he uses are so dense and strung together so tightly that they don't flow. The colors don't match and meld together properly in my mind. It's like eating a meal that gives really, really bad heartburn.
I get the same reaction to accents. Some accents sound like broken glass being poured slowly onto a tile floor in the middle of a quiet museum. Other accents sound like the clanging of cowbells. Still other sound like the tuning of an orchestra before a concert....it's just that the concert never gets started and it just sounds like the endless tuning of various instruments.
So, I am not crazy - just different (which is yellow-green like a forsythia plant). And different is okay, I guess, even though neither green nor yellow are favorite colors of mine!
Perhaps "plagued" is not the best word, for the condition hasn't been unpleasant, itchy or putrid or anything like that. I've never needed a cream or liniment for it, and it is pretty much unseen by the public eye. For all intents and purposes, unless you really, really know me, you probably never even knew that I had the "condition".
It's called synesthesia.
I was listening to NPR tonight while washing dishes after a nutritious dinner of curried quinoa, collard and kale greens and salmon cakes when this segment of Soundprint came on. Seemingly otherwise normal people were talking about how they literally see the colors of numbers, letters and words. For some, there are even smells and textures associated with them, too.
All my life, I've seen my numbers and letters and words in colors. For example, the number three is always, always a deep navy blue. The word three, however is a mixture of colors, starting with a black t, and then slowly lightening from black to deep purple to blue to light blue.....
The number 1999 is yellow - bright, blinding, neon yellow. But the number 2000 is a very vivid red. However, the number 1 is not yellow, but a lime'ish green. The number 2 is red, but the zeros have no color.
My favorite words have colors, too - and sometimes textures, smells and animations. The word cacophony is a series of patterned letters - stripes, polka dots, checkers, herringbones, all stuck together with no clear logic, blinking individually -rhythmless and indistinct from its neighbor.
Pessimistic is slimy green, oozing from the double-s's and smelling badly.
Caustic is like an oil spill. In a sentence it sits above the other letters, undulating as if on an ocean, creating swirly rainbows on its surface.
Sychophant is red - actually crimson. It has the texture of the peel-able wax pencils that elementary school teachers used to check papers. It is equally indelible.
You can imagine that reading for me is a multi-sensory experience. It's not just the act of stringing letters together to make words to make sentences that make paragraphs, that weave chapters into stories. For me, reading is a seriously tactile act. Some authors are able to make word combinations that cause actual physical reactions in me. I remember the first time I read Song of Solomon and got so moved upon reading about Pilates lack of a navel that I had to put the book down and walk away. Reading that passage caused my body to flush from my hair follicles down to the pit of my abdomen.
Other writers, like Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (if you don't know her, this is your chance to google her and buy a book) are able to make words tell tragic tales with a level of humor and everydayness that is both heartbreaking and completely hilarious just by the combinations of words she uses.
I am currently reading Inside Inside by James Lipton. For the past few days, I've been trying to figure out why it's taking me so long to get through the book. Today I realized why. The words that he uses are so dense and strung together so tightly that they don't flow. The colors don't match and meld together properly in my mind. It's like eating a meal that gives really, really bad heartburn.
I get the same reaction to accents. Some accents sound like broken glass being poured slowly onto a tile floor in the middle of a quiet museum. Other accents sound like the clanging of cowbells. Still other sound like the tuning of an orchestra before a concert....it's just that the concert never gets started and it just sounds like the endless tuning of various instruments.
So, I am not crazy - just different (which is yellow-green like a forsythia plant). And different is okay, I guess, even though neither green nor yellow are favorite colors of mine!
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
It’s Our Reunion! (The Sandy Effect)
So….my 20th high school reunion is coming up. Twenty years, I still can’t believe it. Sometimes it feels like just yesterday that we were in Ms. Benson’s microbiology class, listening to Haydn as we smeared agar-agar with staphylococcus aureus and watched it grow in the incubator!
For the 2.5 followers who aren’t somehow related to me or otherwise financially obligated to read my blog posts, you’ve probably already surmised that I am a nerd of first class standing.
During high school, I was never one of the cool girls. I didn’t dress cool, didn’t have cool hair, didn’t drive a cool (read any) car, didn’t have a cool (read ANY) boyfriend. Basically, I was just about as lukewarm as one could get! Talk about socially awkward, kinda chubby, and basically unnoticeable and you’ve got me as the high school prototype. My extra-curricular activities were limited to the French Club, the Pre-Med Club and the National Honor Society! The guy I sat next to at graduation hadn’t ever even heard of me. Much to MY credit, I’d never even heard of HIM, either –so TAKE THAT Solomon Irby (though if you happen to show up at the 20th, I’ll have a big hug for you)!!
But let’s get back to the subject at hand – the REUNION!! And we all know that class reunions are about one thing. REVENGE!! They’re about finding the person who taunted you the most about being unpopular, uncute, unshapely and watching them eat crow with a side of humble pie as you explain with vim and vigor what a successful business owner you are with your trophy spouse on your well-toned, South of France-tanned arm!
They’re about finding that one girl/guy who really liked you, but didn’t want to date you because they were afraid of what their friends would say and introducing them to your supermodel girlfriend, and watching them stand there struggling to breathe in their 18-hour girdle/manssiere.
Reunions are all about the phenomenon I like to call “The Sandy Effect”. Derived from the motion picture “Grease”, “The Sandy Effect” is the transformation of a young, totally square, saddle-shoe wearing lame-O into a stilettoed, hot-pants and red lipstick wearing vixen who leaves the likes of a slim, 70’s John Travolta tongue-tied!
So, for all you similarly nerdy folk whose reunions are coming up, it’s time to be a living, breathing example of the “Sandy Effect”! Come ON!! You’ve no doubt used all of those nerdy characteristics to launch a great career or a successful business! The Coke-bottomed glasses you used to sport back in the day have been replaced by contact lenses or Lasik surgery! Hell, if the reunion is in the summer, you’ve still got plenty of time to shed those few extra pounds and melt yourself into that size (whatever you were in 11th grade or MUCH, MUCH smaller in all the right places) dress!
DO IT! Your inner Sandy will thank you for many years to come!
For the 2.5 followers who aren’t somehow related to me or otherwise financially obligated to read my blog posts, you’ve probably already surmised that I am a nerd of first class standing.
During high school, I was never one of the cool girls. I didn’t dress cool, didn’t have cool hair, didn’t drive a cool (read any) car, didn’t have a cool (read ANY) boyfriend. Basically, I was just about as lukewarm as one could get! Talk about socially awkward, kinda chubby, and basically unnoticeable and you’ve got me as the high school prototype. My extra-curricular activities were limited to the French Club, the Pre-Med Club and the National Honor Society! The guy I sat next to at graduation hadn’t ever even heard of me. Much to MY credit, I’d never even heard of HIM, either –so TAKE THAT Solomon Irby (though if you happen to show up at the 20th, I’ll have a big hug for you)!!
But let’s get back to the subject at hand – the REUNION!! And we all know that class reunions are about one thing. REVENGE!! They’re about finding the person who taunted you the most about being unpopular, uncute, unshapely and watching them eat crow with a side of humble pie as you explain with vim and vigor what a successful business owner you are with your trophy spouse on your well-toned, South of France-tanned arm!
They’re about finding that one girl/guy who really liked you, but didn’t want to date you because they were afraid of what their friends would say and introducing them to your supermodel girlfriend, and watching them stand there struggling to breathe in their 18-hour girdle/manssiere.
Reunions are all about the phenomenon I like to call “The Sandy Effect”. Derived from the motion picture “Grease”, “The Sandy Effect” is the transformation of a young, totally square, saddle-shoe wearing lame-O into a stilettoed, hot-pants and red lipstick wearing vixen who leaves the likes of a slim, 70’s John Travolta tongue-tied!
So, for all you similarly nerdy folk whose reunions are coming up, it’s time to be a living, breathing example of the “Sandy Effect”! Come ON!! You’ve no doubt used all of those nerdy characteristics to launch a great career or a successful business! The Coke-bottomed glasses you used to sport back in the day have been replaced by contact lenses or Lasik surgery! Hell, if the reunion is in the summer, you’ve still got plenty of time to shed those few extra pounds and melt yourself into that size (whatever you were in 11th grade or MUCH, MUCH smaller in all the right places) dress!
DO IT! Your inner Sandy will thank you for many years to come!
Thursday, February 19, 2009
It's Been A Long Time....I Shouldn't Have Left You...
Happy March, folks! Good to see you back!
Let me apologize for not updating as I should, but there's a little thing called life that also takes place outside of the confines of blogger.com in which I engage from time to time....
So...moving on:
March is here. You know, I've always equated March with a certain level of ridiculousness. I actually think a number of people do. Like - which other month is described as a schizophrenic cliche? In like a lion, out like a lamb? It's EXPECTED that there will be a blizzard or some other wintry anomaly at the beginning of the month followed by a 75-degree March 31st, which leaves us all with "walkin' na-MOAN-ya" by April 5th.
Or what about St. Patrick's Day? There's a high level of ridiculousness in its celebration, isn't there? Green beer?? GREEN BEER??? Paired with a mushy stew of cabbage, corned beef and potatoes, there've got to be ridiculously copious amounts of chunks being blown every March 17th!
How about the ridiculousness of a lack of a three-day weekend during one of the longest months of the year? Especially when we're just coming off six months of GOOD federally mandated three day+ weekends! September has Labor day. October allows the celebration of the anihilation of ethic groups native to the Americas. November is Thanksgiving (see October). December begets "the BIG THREE" - Chrismahanakwanzaakah. January has Martin Luffah da Kang Day. February has President's Day. March has.....anyone? Anyone? Bueller?
And what about The Ides of March? That was pretty ridiculous, huh? I mean good ole Caesar got offed on 3/15 by his boyz from the hood. And I know I wasn't the only one who thought Caesar was dumb as a doorknob for not heeding the creepy oracle (on the scratchy Julius Caesar play album) when it said, "beeeewwwwwaaaaarrrrrre the iiiiiiiiiiiiidessssss uv MAAAAAHHHHHHCCCCCHHHHHH!" Please believe, if somone told me "doooonnnnnn't go ooooowwwwwtttt ahhhhhnnnnnn theeeee fifffffff-tteeeeennnnnttttthhhhhh", I'd have my behind up under some covers @ 5523!!!
So to bring today's theme of ridiculousness full circle, I thought I'd share with you a recent quote I read from The King of RE-DICK-YOU-LESS-NESS - Mr. Kanye West.
Now I know that at this point, one of my followers has probably abandonned ship after reading the above line. Just remember, girl, you can pick your blogs, but you can't pick your family :-)!!!
But ole Yeezy has done it yet AGAIN!!! Is it the food?? I swear, I wanna know what he EATS every morning. Like is his water enriched with egoflavinoids? What's in his Wheaties? What could possibly make him think that it's okay to utter these lines:
Let me apologize for not updating as I should, but there's a little thing called life that also takes place outside of the confines of blogger.com in which I engage from time to time....
So...moving on:
March is here. You know, I've always equated March with a certain level of ridiculousness. I actually think a number of people do. Like - which other month is described as a schizophrenic cliche? In like a lion, out like a lamb? It's EXPECTED that there will be a blizzard or some other wintry anomaly at the beginning of the month followed by a 75-degree March 31st, which leaves us all with "walkin' na-MOAN-ya" by April 5th.
Or what about St. Patrick's Day? There's a high level of ridiculousness in its celebration, isn't there? Green beer?? GREEN BEER??? Paired with a mushy stew of cabbage, corned beef and potatoes, there've got to be ridiculously copious amounts of chunks being blown every March 17th!
How about the ridiculousness of a lack of a three-day weekend during one of the longest months of the year? Especially when we're just coming off six months of GOOD federally mandated three day+ weekends! September has Labor day. October allows the celebration of the anihilation of ethic groups native to the Americas. November is Thanksgiving (see October). December begets "the BIG THREE" - Chrismahanakwanzaakah. January has Martin Luffah da Kang Day. February has President's Day. March has.....anyone? Anyone? Bueller?
And what about The Ides of March? That was pretty ridiculous, huh? I mean good ole Caesar got offed on 3/15 by his boyz from the hood. And I know I wasn't the only one who thought Caesar was dumb as a doorknob for not heeding the creepy oracle (on the scratchy Julius Caesar play album) when it said, "beeeewwwwwaaaaarrrrrre the iiiiiiiiiiiiidessssss uv MAAAAAHHHHHHCCCCCHHHHHH!" Please believe, if somone told me "doooonnnnnn't go ooooowwwwwtttt ahhhhhnnnnnn theeeee fifffffff-tteeeeennnnnttttthhhhhh", I'd have my behind up under some covers @ 5523!!!
So to bring today's theme of ridiculousness full circle, I thought I'd share with you a recent quote I read from The King of RE-DICK-YOU-LESS-NESS - Mr. Kanye West.
Now I know that at this point, one of my followers has probably abandonned ship after reading the above line. Just remember, girl, you can pick your blogs, but you can't pick your family :-)!!!
But ole Yeezy has done it yet AGAIN!!! Is it the food?? I swear, I wanna know what he EATS every morning. Like is his water enriched with egoflavinoids? What's in his Wheaties? What could possibly make him think that it's okay to utter these lines:
There's nothing more to be said about music. I'm the f**king end-all, be-all of music. …Oh my God, I'm one of the greatest rappers in the world. I'll get on a track and completely ee-nihilate that track, I'll eat it and rip it in half. I wouldn't have to think of it. …I have, like, nuclear power, like a superhero, like Cyclops when he puts his glasses on."
You notice I put that crap in soft pink itallics, since that's pretty much what I think of Kanye. Dude is soft and pink and creamy in the center! He couldn't make sense if he had all the ingredients and the recipe to put it together!!
End-all, be-all of music?? Werrrdd? So there was nothing before Kanye and clearly nothing after? So when we look up Kanye in the dictionary, we should see this: http://www.isber.ucsb.edu/~blewalker/gye_nyame.GIF??
Oh, but wait....one of the greatest rappers in the WORLD?? Oh REALLY doe Kanye?? REALLY DOE?? So you're in the same league as this guy: http://www.janettebeckman.com/jb.rocks/hiphop/assets/krs1.jpg
Or, maybe dude right here: http://sixshot.com/images/images/rakim.jpg
Kanye, I'm giving you the seriously squinty-eyed, lip curled to the side stare right now. I really am! For equating yourself to a Chernobyl reactor you deserve:
and that "W" is not for your last name.
IDIOT.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Comin' From Where I'm From......
Hello out there in blogland!
I'm up late tonight - not sure why, but I have this restless energy that's got me going so I figured, WHY NOT BLOG???
And as I'm blogging, I'm listening to music - actually, I'm toggling between this site and Youtube.com watching Cape Verdean videos.
As the the five of you who follow my blog (thanks) may know, one part of my family is from the lovely archipelago of the Cape Verde Islands. And along with the beautiful people (hi family) and great food (some of my followers have tasted the JOY that is cachupa), there is also a wealth of very good music made by the folks who come from where I'm from.
I'm sure that most people associate Cape Verdean music with the Queen of the Morna - Cesaria Evora - and she deserves all the shine she gets. There are also some great, newer artists out there as well. One of my favorites is Lura and since I'm enjoying her stuff, I figured I'd pass some of the love on to you all as well.
Don't worry about not understanding the words if you don't speak Crioulo....it's okay....just enjoy the spirit of the music. And at the 3:39 mark, she gets REAL traditional with it!
Enjoy!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E3oyP4LmoeQ&feature=related
I'm up late tonight - not sure why, but I have this restless energy that's got me going so I figured, WHY NOT BLOG???
And as I'm blogging, I'm listening to music - actually, I'm toggling between this site and Youtube.com watching Cape Verdean videos.
As the the five of you who follow my blog (thanks) may know, one part of my family is from the lovely archipelago of the Cape Verde Islands. And along with the beautiful people (hi family) and great food (some of my followers have tasted the JOY that is cachupa), there is also a wealth of very good music made by the folks who come from where I'm from.
I'm sure that most people associate Cape Verdean music with the Queen of the Morna - Cesaria Evora - and she deserves all the shine she gets. There are also some great, newer artists out there as well. One of my favorites is Lura and since I'm enjoying her stuff, I figured I'd pass some of the love on to you all as well.
Don't worry about not understanding the words if you don't speak Crioulo....it's okay....just enjoy the spirit of the music. And at the 3:39 mark, she gets REAL traditional with it!
Enjoy!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E3oyP4LmoeQ&feature=related
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
CRAPTASTIC!!! But I Wish You Love, I Wish You Peace, I Wish You Hope....
Maaannnn.....
I penned an entire blog called "Sometimes" about my love for this song by Bilal....I mean, I went ALL IN y'all!! I was disclosing and sharing all over the place and then I clicked the back button like an idiot and what happened???
OF COURSE I DIDN'T PRESS SAVE!! The title of today's blog wouldn't contain the word CRAPTASTIC if I had pressed SAVE!!!
So now I gotta try my best to recreate my creative moment!
Here goes:
So....you ever have a song that really takes you THERE?? "There" meaning head back, eyes closed, hand in the air in CHURCH TESTIFYING mode?? I apparently have four blog followers and it would be unfair to assume that all four of you have a church frame of reference. In the spirit of inclusion, "THERE" for you might also mean, head back, eyes closed, air-guitaring in front of a virtual crowd of half-million in a foreign stadium.
Have I covered all the bases? If not, shoot me a comment and I'll see what I can do for ya. I aim to please. For real. That's actually part of my problem, but that's another blog - stay tuned.
I digress.....
So this song, "Sometimes" by Bilal goes all over the place. First of all, he opens with a disclaimer so the listener has about four counts to get OUT and press fast forward before he spills his guts because he tells you in the beginning! Then he goes from some serious disclosure to railing a little bit on his upbringing and getting into his significant other's shit. He even gets a little domestically violent! But at the end, he's resolved and he's just wishing good on everybody.
How much is that like REAL life, though? Like how often have you just woken up one morning feeling like crappitty-crap-crap-crap? And everything around you is crappitty-crap-crap-crap? And everything that happened last night is crappitty-crap-crap-crap. And then you go outside and it's 65 degrees in the MIDDLE OF FEBRUARY (thanks Phil - you read my blog!) and the sun is shining, and you remember that you lost about 7 lbs over the past ten days, and you don't have PMS....oh wait....
Back to the song.....digressing AGAIN!!!!
The other thing about this song is NOT just the lyrics, but Bilal's flawless execution of them. He goes from these rumbly, grumbly, almost scary bass tones to this dreamy falsetto that just makes this song such an absolutely, beautiful, terrible MESS. And he's so authentic with it that you KNOW he's experienced every single moment; for real-for real (hi Amina).
So, I cheated today. The blog LOOKS long, but it's mostly Bilal's lyrics. And if you're a good, obedient blog reader, there's a bonus at the end. Click it and have a really, really great day!! (I mean it).
SOMETIMES
This is a song that makes me spill out all my guts
Sometimes
Sometimes, I wish I wasn't me
Sometimes, I wish I was drug free
Sometimes, wish I saw the exit sign first
Sometimes, wish I knew the truth without searchin’
Sometimes, I wish I could
go where I never been
See what I never saw,
do what I never did
Ohhhhhhh (walk before I)
walk before I could crawl
Sometimes….
I wish my eyes wasn't so red
Sometimes, I wish I had breakfast in bed
Sometimes, I mean it's worth it since I did all the work last night
Sometimes, you ain't good to me, as
I am good to you
And you don't see my intentions
the way I do
Sometimes....
hey slim,
you should be nicer than you are
Sometimes, you take that complaining shit way too far
I mean,
I thought it was cute in the beginning
but now I think
you only do it
‘cause you know I hate it
Sometimes..... you got me wishing
I didn't have home training
Sometimes.....
Then it wouldn't hurt me so bad
When I think of knockin’ you on your ass
Then it wouldn't hurt me so bad
When I wanna put my foot up your ass
Sometimes.....
I wish I knew life with no pain, yeah
Wish I held the keys to this game
Sometimes, I pretend ‘cause I'm afraid to be,
afriad to be
Sometimes, I hope I live to see twenty five
Sometimes, I wish I could
be like Moses
Round up my people
move out the ghetto
And live a better life
Sometimes…..
I wish I didn't try so hard
Sometimes…..
Who knows truth
any
way
They don't know nothing,
who needs that approval
The sun in your hands player
Move at your own pace,
listen to your own mind
Do your own thing,
yeah yeah
I'm saying this because I love ya
And I wanna grow with you, baby
But you wanna run in the other direction
So I got to stay on my path until
I win
I win,
I win,
I win
I wanna win,
I wanna win,
I wanna win,
I wanna win
Oh sometimes,
sing it with me I wish
(I wish you love)
And I wish,
oh I wish
(I wish you peace)
Oh sometimes
(I wish you hope)
I wish hope
(I wish true)
I wish true
(I wish clearly)
Hey I wish so clearly sometimes
(Wish with no fear)
I wish with no fear
(I have no fear)
I have no fear
(Have no doubt)
I have no doubt
(I don't doubt)
I don't doubt
(Have no doubt)
No, I don't doubt
(Have no doubt, I wish love)
I wish you love, hey hey
BONUS for those of you who read (y'all are so good):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1vTWUOwW6iA
I penned an entire blog called "Sometimes" about my love for this song by Bilal....I mean, I went ALL IN y'all!! I was disclosing and sharing all over the place and then I clicked the back button like an idiot and what happened???
OF COURSE I DIDN'T PRESS SAVE!! The title of today's blog wouldn't contain the word CRAPTASTIC if I had pressed SAVE!!!
So now I gotta try my best to recreate my creative moment!
Here goes:
So....you ever have a song that really takes you THERE?? "There" meaning head back, eyes closed, hand in the air in CHURCH TESTIFYING mode?? I apparently have four blog followers and it would be unfair to assume that all four of you have a church frame of reference. In the spirit of inclusion, "THERE" for you might also mean, head back, eyes closed, air-guitaring in front of a virtual crowd of half-million in a foreign stadium.
Have I covered all the bases? If not, shoot me a comment and I'll see what I can do for ya. I aim to please. For real. That's actually part of my problem, but that's another blog - stay tuned.
I digress.....
So this song, "Sometimes" by Bilal goes all over the place. First of all, he opens with a disclaimer so the listener has about four counts to get OUT and press fast forward before he spills his guts because he tells you in the beginning! Then he goes from some serious disclosure to railing a little bit on his upbringing and getting into his significant other's shit. He even gets a little domestically violent! But at the end, he's resolved and he's just wishing good on everybody.
How much is that like REAL life, though? Like how often have you just woken up one morning feeling like crappitty-crap-crap-crap? And everything around you is crappitty-crap-crap-crap? And everything that happened last night is crappitty-crap-crap-crap. And then you go outside and it's 65 degrees in the MIDDLE OF FEBRUARY (thanks Phil - you read my blog!) and the sun is shining, and you remember that you lost about 7 lbs over the past ten days, and you don't have PMS....oh wait....
Back to the song.....digressing AGAIN!!!!
The other thing about this song is NOT just the lyrics, but Bilal's flawless execution of them. He goes from these rumbly, grumbly, almost scary bass tones to this dreamy falsetto that just makes this song such an absolutely, beautiful, terrible MESS. And he's so authentic with it that you KNOW he's experienced every single moment; for real-for real (hi Amina).
So, I cheated today. The blog LOOKS long, but it's mostly Bilal's lyrics. And if you're a good, obedient blog reader, there's a bonus at the end. Click it and have a really, really great day!! (I mean it).
SOMETIMES
This is a song that makes me spill out all my guts
Sometimes
Sometimes, I wish I wasn't me
Sometimes, I wish I was drug free
Sometimes, wish I saw the exit sign first
Sometimes, wish I knew the truth without searchin’
Sometimes, I wish I could
go where I never been
See what I never saw,
do what I never did
Ohhhhhhh (walk before I)
walk before I could crawl
Sometimes….
I wish my eyes wasn't so red
Sometimes, I wish I had breakfast in bed
Sometimes, I mean it's worth it since I did all the work last night
Sometimes, you ain't good to me, as
I am good to you
And you don't see my intentions
the way I do
Sometimes....
hey slim,
you should be nicer than you are
Sometimes, you take that complaining shit way too far
I mean,
I thought it was cute in the beginning
but now I think
you only do it
‘cause you know I hate it
Sometimes..... you got me wishing
I didn't have home training
Sometimes.....
Then it wouldn't hurt me so bad
When I think of knockin’ you on your ass
Then it wouldn't hurt me so bad
When I wanna put my foot up your ass
Sometimes.....
I wish I knew life with no pain, yeah
Wish I held the keys to this game
Sometimes, I pretend ‘cause I'm afraid to be,
afriad to be
Sometimes, I hope I live to see twenty five
Sometimes, I wish I could
be like Moses
Round up my people
move out the ghetto
And live a better life
Sometimes…..
I wish I didn't try so hard
Sometimes…..
Who knows truth
any
way
They don't know nothing,
who needs that approval
The sun in your hands player
Move at your own pace,
listen to your own mind
Do your own thing,
yeah yeah
I'm saying this because I love ya
And I wanna grow with you, baby
But you wanna run in the other direction
So I got to stay on my path until
I win
I win,
I win,
I win
I wanna win,
I wanna win,
I wanna win,
I wanna win
Oh sometimes,
sing it with me I wish
(I wish you love)
And I wish,
oh I wish
(I wish you peace)
Oh sometimes
(I wish you hope)
I wish hope
(I wish true)
I wish true
(I wish clearly)
Hey I wish so clearly sometimes
(Wish with no fear)
I wish with no fear
(I have no fear)
I have no fear
(Have no doubt)
I have no doubt
(I don't doubt)
I don't doubt
(Have no doubt)
No, I don't doubt
(Have no doubt, I wish love)
I wish you love, hey hey
BONUS for those of you who read (y'all are so good):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1vTWUOwW6iA
Thursday, February 5, 2009
It's February and.....
I've got a couple of gripes already for this month. The first starts with Puxatawney Phil.
LISTEN UP FOLKS!! I AM A MICHIGANDER. For us, winter is a long, cold corridor in the house of purgatory! Those standing outside the house are only there putting chairs in their parking spaces to ensure that they won't have to walk a half mile down Mr. Nevershovels sidewalk to get to the front porch The rest of us are waiting in VAIN for Puxatawney Phil to NOT see his damn shadow so winter can be over! Of course, good ole Phil must have eaten lots of carrots and got hold of some brighteyes flowers because, lo and behold....
I guess Phil must also be on memo ban. Right along with Ina Garten. There needs to be a change in administration.
Ay yo PHIL: It's COLD in DC. When I say cold, I mean...we're not getting above freezing lately and we're BELOW the MASON DIXON LINE. While you're reading this note, Phil, (and I know you can read if you can see your SHADOW) I need you to holler at your boys Cold Front and Low Pressure and get some REAL snow going on down here. I don't mean the paltry inch and a half that they worked up last week. I mean a full-out, shut the fed'ral gub'ment DOWN, no milk, water, eggs, bread, or snacks in the grocery aisle BLIZZARD!!!
Thanks...
Next:
I'm trying to be PHILANTRHOPIC - you know, get my Kimora and Russell on, right? Being the change and all that.....So, BDB (that's my son Big Drummer Boy) did a science project on how music affects animal behavior.
First of all, let's give BDB some shine up in this blog as well. BDB is a mess. He's my 11-year old, straight-A student, budding intellectual ladykiller with a mole right between his eyes. BDB is also veeeerrrrryyyy much in tune to what will motivate his parents.
BDB approached me about the idea he had for his science projct a while ago. Being a musician, BDB decided that he would do some scientific observation of how music really affects animals' behavior. Well, of course, proud mommy that I am just thought BDB was the stitching holding together the cat's pyjamas! We bantered back and forth about how many gerbils he should observe, the type of music he should play, how long he should play it....thewhole nine. I was under the impression that his observations would be done at school....with the school's animals. Er...NO. The school HAS no animals. Which led us to Petco for a couple of gerbils and habitats, etc for him to do his observations.
Let's stop here: did you see me get bamboozled? Did you see the run amok move? How about led astray?
Just wondering.
I told y'all BDB is good. Because NOW he has pets, over my live and willing body!!
And yeah, he did all the observations and all that and put together the board with his mother's intense involvment. The project is over and I'm sure he'll get a good grade. Because he's just like that.
HOWEVER....I said earlier that I'm trying to be PHILANTRHOPIC!! So why is the school hemming and hawing over whether or not they're going to accept our donation of two small animals, food, cages, bedding, the whole nine!! WHY?? AREN'T WE IN A RECESSION?? WHY NOT TAKE MY GIFT? Come ON!! We're being beneficent here! Is this the thanks we get???
hmph!
LISTEN UP FOLKS!! I AM A MICHIGANDER. For us, winter is a long, cold corridor in the house of purgatory! Those standing outside the house are only there putting chairs in their parking spaces to ensure that they won't have to walk a half mile down Mr. Nevershovels sidewalk to get to the front porch The rest of us are waiting in VAIN for Puxatawney Phil to NOT see his damn shadow so winter can be over! Of course, good ole Phil must have eaten lots of carrots and got hold of some brighteyes flowers because, lo and behold....
I guess Phil must also be on memo ban. Right along with Ina Garten. There needs to be a change in administration.
Ay yo PHIL: It's COLD in DC. When I say cold, I mean...we're not getting above freezing lately and we're BELOW the MASON DIXON LINE. While you're reading this note, Phil, (and I know you can read if you can see your SHADOW) I need you to holler at your boys Cold Front and Low Pressure and get some REAL snow going on down here. I don't mean the paltry inch and a half that they worked up last week. I mean a full-out, shut the fed'ral gub'ment DOWN, no milk, water, eggs, bread, or snacks in the grocery aisle BLIZZARD!!!
Thanks...
Next:
I'm trying to be PHILANTRHOPIC - you know, get my Kimora and Russell on, right? Being the change and all that.....So, BDB (that's my son Big Drummer Boy) did a science project on how music affects animal behavior.
First of all, let's give BDB some shine up in this blog as well. BDB is a mess. He's my 11-year old, straight-A student, budding intellectual ladykiller with a mole right between his eyes. BDB is also veeeerrrrryyyy much in tune to what will motivate his parents.
BDB approached me about the idea he had for his science projct a while ago. Being a musician, BDB decided that he would do some scientific observation of how music really affects animals' behavior. Well, of course, proud mommy that I am just thought BDB was the stitching holding together the cat's pyjamas! We bantered back and forth about how many gerbils he should observe, the type of music he should play, how long he should play it....thewhole nine. I was under the impression that his observations would be done at school....with the school's animals. Er...NO. The school HAS no animals. Which led us to Petco for a couple of gerbils and habitats, etc for him to do his observations.
Let's stop here: did you see me get bamboozled? Did you see the run amok move? How about led astray?
Just wondering.
I told y'all BDB is good. Because NOW he has pets, over my live and willing body!!
And yeah, he did all the observations and all that and put together the board with his mother's intense involvment. The project is over and I'm sure he'll get a good grade. Because he's just like that.
HOWEVER....I said earlier that I'm trying to be PHILANTRHOPIC!! So why is the school hemming and hawing over whether or not they're going to accept our donation of two small animals, food, cages, bedding, the whole nine!! WHY?? AREN'T WE IN A RECESSION?? WHY NOT TAKE MY GIFT? Come ON!! We're being beneficent here! Is this the thanks we get???
hmph!
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