The finish line is the sweetest sight

I AM OFFICIALLY DONE WITH MY SUMMER RESEARCH!!!!!! Good grief it feels good. I was the last presentation of the last day...so of course everyone was ready to dip out really quick.

So to recap, I was studying how Griot traditions help create Community identity, and how Zora Neale Hurston uses those same principles and in theory, is a griot by her own right. It was awesome. I was nervous of course. But at the end, my Mentor and Advisor was really pleased with my work, and someone who has had publications in the audience about Hurston said it made her think more on the subject and Hurston's representation of community and her own identity. HOLY JUMPING JESUS!!!!! That my friends...made me so excited. Like phenomenally excited. *geek sigh*

I did a mini performance of some of Hurston's work Mules and Men and people liked it! It was really cool to see my work speak for itself (sort of), and I am just glad it all worked out.

I also what to give mad shout outs to my sister, it's her birthday today and she was in the room with me (in spirit) and really pushed me to do what I love. Yay for big sisters and awesome mentors.

Wait....I'm almost at the finish line????

Holy Jumping Jesus....I am DONE with my paper!!!! Okay....let me not lie...I need to proof it, but other than that I am relatively done. This means...nap time. Like hardcore.

So right now in my "free time" from being "done" with my research paper, I watched Coraline and The Goonies. I freaking love The Goonies...it's the quintessential buddy adventure films. And what's not to love...treasure, pirates, best friends, romance???

But I want to talk about Tim Burton. That man is crazier than Stephen King tripping out on LSD. Good grief. I swear that man needs help. He is in fact the Devil's B*tch. The mess he puts out....especially with Johnny Depp and his baby momma Helena Bonham Carter just makes my heart hurt. Some white folks are crazy. I'm sure the three of them all sleep together and smoke cigarettes and talk about what they can do next to be crazy. And Neil Gaiman is a turd. Making comic books that are just....he's deranged. If you should ever read The Doll's House....wear a rosary. At least. Maybe have some holy water accompany you.

Garage Band just became my lover....

Okay. So those reading I hope you know that I am in fact odd and will say stuff like this on the regular. I have been trying to put myself to use and write my research paper which I present in six days...and I can't. Why??? Cause Garage Band is the devil and I am it's faithful minion. Yes. I said it. I sent about three hours of my yesterday playing with the damn thing and I am both furious and ecstatic. Made a trippy Sting meets Tracy Chapman on the way to a Bono retreat in the Gambia soundtrack (think bongo drums, shakeres and a hefty helping of indie rock chords).

At this point..the tips of my left handed fingers are starting to lose feeling. Fantastic.

I would love for this paper to be done with. Sometimes being a nerd is very exhausting. But because I am such a fan of geekdom....I attached a comic strip with one of my favorite cartoon references...the days when I could sit in front of the t.v. for hours on the weekend and have no one judge me.

WARNING: Subject may include intense references to debauchery and...He-Man.

PS...I really wanted to play up my geek factor today. Please enjoy.

Holy Crap....my sister doesn't think I'm silly.

So I just got word from big sister....and she LIKES THE SONG!!!!! While I shared the song with a select few, her opinion mattered most to me....cause she would actually tell me what I need to work on. I was so nervous about her listening to it that I didn't call her like I usually do (meaning it was serious). She even said that she forgot that it was me singing sometimes.

Thus far....some feedback has been the following:
-Word Choice (which definitely needs to change cause well...I was making the song up while I was playing-therefore, I will write it down the first chance I get)
- Adding a bridge and adjusting the tempo at some parts,
-The fact that you can hear me change chords (which I personally like in acoustic songs. I think it gives it surprising character)

I was playing around with GarageBand, and am in love. It's fantastic all the things you can do with it, like add ambient noises in the background. If I wasn't writing this research paper, all I would be doing is working on this and other songs.

I will be putting up a better version on my GoogleSite hopefully by the weekend!!!! Yay for practice!!!!!

I made true to my word...I recorded my first demo with Gaia (my guitar)

Okay, so I finally made good on my word. I just recorded this and decided to put it up. Made up the song on the spot cause it just worked. Please listen, and feedback is wonderful. I hope you enjoy it. You'll have to click on the title to lead you to my Google site and then download it onto your itunes cause I don't know how to put a streaming version yet.

I'm gonna work on a bridge and the tempo...but it's a start.

You can also click on Google Site and it should take you there.

Hip Hop and White "Connoisseurs"

I had the distinct displeasure of watching Center Stage 2: Turn it Up or something silly like that. Why did I watch it? Cause I have an inexplicable weakness for dance movies. All of them and any of them. And I couldn't sleep. Anyways, I was watching it, and of course couldn't deal with White Suburban kids "doing" hip-hop cause it "gives me fire" or "makes me feel good". Of course...they all looked like Gumby on Speed when they danced.

But seriously, what is it with White America and the compulsion to blatantly disregard any sort of politics or history when it comes to creative expression? Or...why the heck are white kids always trying to have the best of both worlds? To have the style and the culture, but not the responsibility or the accountability and recognize that they are in fact appropriating? Its insane to me how all of the dance movies I've watched lately deal with white kids being introduced to hip hop and then appropriating the mess out of it to the point where it is not only unrecognizable, but looks downright silly. Another constant plot in the films....mixing or showing the clash between hip-hip and other forms of street dance/performance with ballet. I don't give a crap. Ballet has had a constitutional history or disregarding people of color because of body types, but it is fully acceptable to have white individuals take the power and the politics of hip hop from the streets, dress it up nice and then ballet accepts it with no acknowledgment to the communities that survive because of the dance form? It's not enough to take land, money, culture and bodies, but now dance?

I'm not even going to pretend this is the first time I've registered this appropriation. Cause I have. Maybe I'm so heated cause the acting was ridiculously awful, and the casting directors really couldn't deal with having a black lead who can perform ballet and hip-hop, both with greater precision and style- and so just put a out a casting call to any white female and male ballet dancer who can learn/is a hip hop dancer. And I bet their choreographer was a person of color.

All this said though...I still love dance movies. And they always make me want to get up and shake my booty. But I'll be damned if I see another white kid mimic my moves on the dance floor and not tell me I'm a good dancer. *shrug*



You should click on the song by mc chris. It's funny. I would like to hope he's making fun of white kids like himself who like hip hop but are still clearly white, and double taking on appropriation. But let's hope my optimism doesn't get the best of me.

Lessons on being a grown up....

*Sigh*...Sometimes being a grown up is much harder than anticipated.

I say this cause I recently got off the phone with one of my closest friends (I've know her since I was 6 year old), and she is having "relationship problems". Overall, it is her second guessing herself, when she is in fact an amazing person. Smart, Creative, Funny, the works. However, she doesn't believe so and in turn, stops anything from starting when it comes to relationships, and complicates everything.

But question: is getting involved with someone really as complicated as we all think? Or is it as simple as saying "I'm picking up what you're putting down.", and we make it complicated cause we're too scared...and awkward??

She asked me for some advice so I gave her some....and more or less walked her through some steps that "helped" me in terms of dealing with relationships (which I seem to do a lot of these days). I told her that it is better to know what did happen, then wonder what could've. I also told her that I've been there. The whole awkward my stomach hurts from trying to explain to 'you' my feelings business. I get it. Second guessing your worth and qualities. Or if you "misread" the signs. But at some point when do you stop acting as though you were 7 years old, and start acting like a grown up? Do we ever really get out of that phase-of the awkwardness and seconding? Honestly? Probably not. But I guess you learn to deal with the awkwardness and maybe even shift it somewhere else for the time being. Cause that little bit of awkwardness...makes relationships worth it...non?

Sometimes I wake up only wanting to go back to bed.

This is a poem/spoken word piece. I wrote this a few months ago. I posted it cause right now there is no other way to describe the feeling I feel now. Sometimes I wake up really...off.

Working through a life
That is not quite my own
I stay awake at night
Trying to count the minutes as they get sown
Up deep within the hours
That keep passing me by
And as I strive to hold my own
I seem to keep on failing no matter how hard I try.

Trying to keep together
Pieces of me in a place
That don’t seem to quite
Give a shit if I find my space.
So as I work hard, and grow hard, and always seem to plan,
I never understand
How can I claim the ground I walk on
When no one even knows my name.

Looking back on years I somehow get mesmerized
Captivated, fascinated but mostly discombobulated
About how I always try to fit in
To groups where I know I can’t.
And soon found that the weeds that had sprouted
Around this noble plant
Have never even cared that she would grow
To blossom such a beautiful bloom.
But until the day I realize that I don’t get to assume
That people care, that they only stare
Waiting just to hear what happens in this tragedy, the nightmare
Where I only set myself up for doom.

As I’m walking down the pavement
I still always seem to struggle
With the attitude, for magnitude
That I wish to radiate
But instead I seem to flicker and only seem to pulsate
A lower watt of energy
That folks get to manipulate.
And try as I might
To just pick up arms and fight,
This little heart of mine
Just gets broke up, and led on
And wearisome I move on
But I still can’t seem to let go.
So as I walk with my head down
With a frown somehow always stuck up on my face
I try to keep on rearranging the memories I can't erase.

Super Sonic Vibes...

You ever have that feeling where you wake up one morning and all of a sudden your life accelerated at Super Sonic speed? Instead of easing on by with time where you know what's next... you suddenly find yourself wondering 'how the f*ck did I get here and where is my parachute???". Sometimes, it's a good thing. Most times it not. Because you then find yourself with your ears popping, eyes stinging, and your heart trying to leap out of your throat, trying to catch on quick to something as the air slips through your fingers.

Who knew Jamiroquai was so on the money?

Getting serious about this song writing thing...sort of

Okay. I once upon a time said that this blog was meant for anything and everything that I wanted and needed for any given moment. So, I decided to post a song that I wrote earlier this month. Please be honest, and comment on what needs work. I am all about improvement and positive criticism. Personally, this song could go on forever for me. The title may need work, but hey...it's a start. Hopefully within the next month or so, I work with Garage Band to make a recording with my geetar (holy crap I know...)

Nightmares Shaped in Dreams

There was a boy named Pride.
He never knew how to stay satisfied.
He walks down the street like he owns the place.
But he doesn’t know the man who wears his face.

But then the devil. Came to town.
Made an offer. That nowhere else could be found.
And he said. If you come with me,
I’ll can give you the world. Just wait and see.

Be careful what you wish for. Be careful of who you wish you could be.
Be careful what you wish for. Be careful of nightmares shaped in dreams.

There was a girl named Suicide.
She never knew how to save her life.
She couldn’t take the way she looked every day.
But she didn’t know she was beautiful in every way.

But then the devil. Walked across the room.
At the party. Where there was no one she knew.
And he whispered. If you come with me.
I can make you. The body of a goddess no god’s ever seen.

Be careful what you wish for. Be careful of who you wish you could be.
Be careful what you wish for. Be careful of nightmares shaped in dreams.

Now you see Pride. Had wanted the world.
But found that there was nothing of worth.
He wanted to prove. To himself.
That he had everything but he had nothing at all.

And now Suicide. She became a star.
But everyone seemed to love her from afar.
And she forgot. What it was like to love.
And how loving from the inside out was what it’s all about.

Be careful what you wish for. Be careful of who you wish you could be.
Be careful what you wish for. Be careful of nightmares shaped in dreams.

Give you dreams. Give me your fantasies.
I can make them come true. Just sell your soul out over to me.
Be careful of the devil. Dressed in white with the soft red eyes

Be careful what you wish for. Be careful of who you wish you could be.
Be careful what you wish for. Be careful of nightmares shaped in dreams.
Just be careful babe. Of Nightmares shaped in dreams.

Again, you can't have growth without honesty...

Flags, Songs, and Feelings of wonder

There are lots of days I sit down to write, and nothing comes out. Sometimes it's a good thing, cause that means I have to work on what I need to say. But then, recently, there's the reason that I don't know how to say what I want to, politically, academically, emotionally, all of it. What I want most is to write songs and music (which aren't equivalent I guess) where I get the "good shivers" as I like to affectionately call them. Where I look or read something that just makes my whole body go 'WoW!'. To write something that doesn't affect just me. And sure enough that is a hard thing to accomplish. Maybe it's asking alot to always know what to say and how, but think of it like this. Why waste all those words trying to fumble around to find the right one?

So, you can imagine how I felt when I first heard this song. Good Shivers all around!!!



I will be the first to admit I learned about this dude from my sister- I jacked her station on Pandora so fast I gave myself whiplash...

Happy Late Free the Colonies but Not the Slaves day. Or Happy Birthday pops.

So this past weekend was July 4th. And for the first time in...forever, I did nothing for it. Didn't go to a barbecue, didn't watch fireworks, didn't eat good American hot dogs and burgers as a good American should. Instead, I thought about how on that fateful day back in 1776 (which I knew practically off the top of my head!!), American colonists failed to see the beautiful irony of fighting for their right to freedom, as they held on steadfast to color politics and beliefs in the necessity of slavery. And....how they probably didn't eat hot dogs and burgers come victory, ans where did they come from (of course besides animals)!!!

Instead, I just relaxed as best as I could in my friend's apartment, and watched all kinds of movies. Productive? Absolutely not. Pleasant? Positively yes. It was much needed though. Who would've though theory would be so exhausting.....

In all seriousness though, I just relaxed and played Gaia all day. And wrote songs. And thought if the package I sent for my papa's birthday would make it back home in time. But I had some "conversations" with my sister that really rubbed me the wrong way. I won't really get into it completely, but it all started with a couch, turned into a fight about my clarity as a person, and my being "coddled" by everyone I know basically, and ended up taking about my "social circle" which my sister concluded as non-existent. So I was mad. Really really mad. Like...I haven't been this mad in such a long time I started to hyperventilate mad. *Sigh*. Did I learn from it though? Maybe. I learned that I'm not comfortable telling things to my sister. Or to anyone - and considering this is a blog I fully recognize the irony. But seriously, is it wrong if I like to spend time by myself doing what I want, and not have to worry about stupid people, feelings and things like that? Maybe? Don't get me wrong...friends are nice sometimes....but not enough to make me like people on a regular basis.

I get this from my dad. He doesn't really do people either. So I dedicate this blog to my pops, who always taught me that family is always "better" than friends, and that stupid people are everywhere.

Oh...and I dedicate it to the all the Independence Days of communities of color who are still unrecognized and unaided and where you have to look up when liberation occurred if at all achieved, while no one dares forget Freedom in the Colonies.

And to Mudd for having Wi-fi. My computer is acting extra defunct at my friend's apartment.