One of my favorite Michael songs and vids. Simple and effective. Only he could give sequins such pizzazz.
As a friend said to me yesterday, "it's surreal." I am heartbroken. I had no idea i'd be hurt so deeply. MTV Jams was showing his videos this morning, and when man in the mirror came on, the tears that i had been choking back since yesterday evening, fell.
The irony is not lost on me that, in death, we can almost venerate a person who had become such an object of derision in his later years. I feel bad. It's a lot to bear, the weight of being a walking punchline. And no matter how out of touch he may have seemed, he was human. The words, public scorn, and endless mocking had to hurt. Not to be revisionist, because i certainly took my fair share of jabs. But i never ever stopped being a fan. A stan even.
I guess you never know what you've got til its gone.
Michael Jackson, the King of Pop. He was poked fun at for giving himself the label, but no one ever tried to take it away because it was true. He revolutionized the music industry, gave a fledgling art form - "the music video" -legs, without which MTV could not exist. Videos that didn't feature booty shaking, half nekkid women, illicit drug use, or well placed shots of luxury items. His fame rested solely on his talent, with non of the crutches so many artists rely upon today. He Inspired legions of entertainers, great and small, but none could do it quite like him. Honestly, i think that no one ever will.
I don't think i'd be exaggerating if i said they don't make them like that anymore. Even in passing he set another bar - he broke the internet! Traffic was at a snails pace yesterday because of the flurry of internet activity around the world. He provided a soundtrack for a generation - my generation. A consummate entertainer, and now, in his death, a legend.
The Jackson five - Never Can Say Goodbye (so much emotion in his voice!)
There was a time when "snark" was urbane. Caustic and clever, the droll wit could leave one as much amused as insulted. These men (and women) took the Edward Gorey approach to the common put down - stark, to the point with very little filler.The blink-and-you-might-miss-it quality of these barbs makes them all the more notable.The message? If you must be mean spirited, be brilliant with it.
Oh, to be jeered by one of these Icons of Invective!
“He has never been known to use a word that might send a reader to the dictionary.” — William Faulkner (about Ernest Hemingway)
“Poor Faulkner. Does he really think big emotions come from big words?” — Ernest Hemingway (about William Faulkner)
He has all the virtues I dislike and none of the vices I admire.” — Winston Churchill
“A modest little person, with much to be modest about.” — Winston Churchill
“I have never killed a man, but I have read many obituaries with great pleasure.” — Clarence Darrow
“Thank you for sending me a copy of your book; I’ll waste no time reading it.” — Moses Hadas
“He can compress the most words into the smallest idea of any man I know.” — Abraham Lincoln
“I’ve had a perfectly wonderful evening. But this wasn’t it.” — Groucho Marx
“I didn’t attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying I approved of it.” — Mark Twain
“He has no enemies, but is intensely disliked by his friends.” — Oscar Wilde
“I am enclosing two tickets to the first night of my new play; bring a friend…. if you have one.” — George Bernard Shaw to Winston Churchill
“Cannot possibly attend first night, will attend second… if there is one.” — Winston Churchill, in response
“I feel so miserable without you; it’s almost like having you here.” — Stephen Bishop
“He is a self-made man and worships his creator.” — John Bright
“I’ve just learned about his illness. Let’s hope it’s nothing trivial.” — Irvin S. Cobb
“He is not only dull himself, he is the cause of dullness in others.” — Samuel Johnson
“He is simply a shiver looking for a spine to run up.” — Paul Keating
“He had delusions of adequacy.” — Walter Kerr
“There’s nothing wrong with you that reincarnation won’t cure.” — Jack E. Leonard
“He has the attention span of a lightning bolt.” — Robert Redford
“They never open their mouths without subtracting from the sum of human knowledge.” — Thomas Brackett Reed
“He inherited some good instincts from his Quaker forebears, but by diligent hard work, he overcame them.” — James Reston (about Richard Nixon)
“In order to avoid being called a flirt, she always yielded easily.” — Charles, Count Talleyrand
“He loves nature in spite of what it did to him.” — Forrest Tucker
“Why do you sit there looking like an envelope without any address on it?” — Mark Twain
“His mother should have thrown him away and kept the stork.” — Mae West
A drawback of wearing hair natural: big hair quickly trans(mogrifies)lates into obese hair. My coif is on that Star Jones (pre-op) and there is nothing remotely attractive about it.
...ok there is this one curl that is kinda cute, but that's neither here nor there.
Anyway.
So. In lieu of writing, i have to attend to this lion's mane. Hopefully i won't forget what it was i wanted to write about. That's been the case lately. My mind is overloaded with thoughts and then when its time to write -- nothing. I don't know if that constitutes some bizarre manifestation of writer's block, or is just more evidence of my brain's faulty wiring. Probably the latter. Either way, it makes for a most frustrating experience when it comes time to blog. Maybe i should hire someone to take dictation for me. Or maybe i should buy a dictaphone. Do they still sell those? That'd be a pretty cool gadget to have i think. So 1950s. All i would need is a starched - argo, the kind your granny used, not the shortcut newfangled niagara spray stuff - gingham dress and a pearl necklace.
But I digress.
In the meantime, for my people in the struggle, i'm posting this game that i've been amusing myself with. The theme being especially relevant yesterday and today.
Please don't go girl came up first on my randomized shuffle this morning, which of course sent me on an NKOTB frenzy. Those dudes had me sprung something serious way back in the day. Well... not all of them. Joe Mcintyre, (oh joe... how i used to waste allowance money on issues of tigerbeat that featured you) and then Jordan Knight. Donnie was just ok. Jon, was neither here nor there. And Danny was plain uncute. (He had a serious case of squareface going on.)
But yeah these were the dudes. Jonas Brothers who? I remember begging my mom to buy(!) and record a disney channel special featuring those dudes. I was in heaven for about a week after that.
Anyway, you can not front on either of these songs. Well you can, but it means you have no soul, and possibly a lump of coal where your heart should be.
...
P.S. I'm still big hair don't care! Coming up on three weeks. I'm loving every minute of it. P.P.S I know. I should probably start a new blog dedicated to the subject of hair. P.P.P.S But im crazy lazy so yall are just going to have to deal with my hair stories on occasion.
Its true though, and more than just a moby-ism. The very elements that make up our bodies are found in stardust and are the very building blocks of the universe. We are puny and magnificent all at once. How very gestalt.
I was up a little later than usual last night and i had the pleasure of doing something i love, but rarely get to do - stargaze. The night sky is so beautiful and awe inspiring that its a shame you can only see it at, well, night. Usually by the time the good stuff is out, i am long in bed dreaming of who knows what.(or who.) Unless its your job, its almost impossible to be out sky watching knowing those precious hours are ticking away. As much as i would like to ignore the need for sleep, I can't. But last night i was up and i took the opportunity to get my amateur astronomer on. It wasn't the best night for star watching as it was extremely cloudy, but there were breaks here and there that exposed sections of the pristine twinkling expanse. And then for some reason, even in the dark the cloud cover had a rosy hue which i have yet to uncover the reason for. It was Gorgeous.
If I had been a smarter, wiser young person, i would have pursued my dreams of becoming an astrophysicist. Along with history, astronomy is one of those things i have ALWAYS loved. Anytime i was presented with a science project in school, mine always was focused on the Solar System. One trick pony for sure. Who knows what heights i may have climbed by now -- I could be on my way towards a second Nobel. Or maybe married to Stephen Hawking, with a brood of little hawklets. (don't ask me how we'd achieve this.) Hobnobing with the nabobs of scientific discovery - the Neil Degrasse Tysons and Alan Guths of the scientific world. Quark me up!
Alas. I chose...poorly.
(Quick! where is that from?! lol)
June is a great month for planetary viewing, Mercury Mars and Venus all make an appearance. Early this upcoming Saturday Morning (the 13th) Jupiter will be clearly visible - so long as the sky remains cloudless. It will be on the lower left of the moon, easily mistaken for a bright star instead of gas giant that it is. In fact, its one of the brightest objects in the night sky due to its apparent magnitude. Easily observable with the unaided eye. Did you know that it has the shortest "day" of all the planets? It takes only about 10 hours to spin on its axis. Nine hours and 50 seconds to be exact. Despite this fact, it takes 11 earth years to make a full revolution around the sun. Pretty amazing right?
Its so peaceful observing the night sky, i only wish I had more time and resources at my disposal.
The Drifters - Up On the Roof (love the lyrics and its written by Carole King one of my FAVORITE singer/songwriters)
Now that the weather is finally warming up i can finally stop complaining about being cold, - though its only supposed to be a high of 66 tomorrow. the 4th of june? what is up with that?? - and move on to complaining about the dew point.
So yeah, there is this front that is moving from west to east and its supposed to bring rain and nutrients to make the flowers grow, keep the soil fertile and stuff. You know, be good for the enviroment. Well its not making me happy. Its like, i guess the ecosystem gets to be pretty but what about me? Psht. I really am not enjoying how everything is feeling tacky. Gross.
Clammy is not the business folks. Which brings me to my next topic. For the past two weeks i've been conducting an experiment of sorts. I've been wearing my hair natural.
There hasn't been a relaxer on my head in over ten years (the exact number is 11) and while i have been released from the bondage of the creamy crack - i still rock my hair in a straightened style. My doobie game is unfadeable. Letting the coif out in its natural glory is a look that infrequently sport. Its a shame but i really only wear my hair out when i'm on vacation, or i'm slumming. Or, on the infrequent occasions where the two intersect, both.
That picture was taken two years ago on a trip to mexico. Ignore the psychotic smile, its my hair i'm trying to illustrate.You can't really see it but i'm rocking the curly fro, tamed by an artfully tied scarf. So easy. No worries about getting my hair wet, or the occasional downpour. Sidenote: look at that tan! Let me tell you, that was the BEST tan i've ever had. I was glowing. I'm on a mission to get that brown again this summer. But yeah where was i?
Oh yeah so I'm embarrassed to admit that i've always considered my straightened hair professional, but my curly hair...more like playtime. My conditioning has been conditioned. Don't blame me, blame the man!
Anyway, two sundays ago, i stepped out of the shower and did NOT feel like doing my hair. I thought of the two to three hours i would have to spend on it and felt sick to my stomach.
Looking in the slightly foggy bathroom mirror a tempest arose in my breast and i said "why not!?" So motivated by a potent mixture of laziness and rebellion, i decided my hair's fate on a whim. I proceeded to slather on some leave in conditioner, jumped back and kissed myself(no narciss-o), and walked out feeling slightly liberated.
Well that's all good for a Sunday when nobody has to see you, but what about Monday? What about work? What about snide remarks? I have worn my hair natural to work in the past, but it was always short lived. The comments have always left me self conscious, no matter how much i have pretended they didn't.
Things like:
"oh wow your hair it's...cute"
"hey chaka!"
"is that yours?"
"can i touch it?"
So after a day or so of this, i'm back to my normal smooth and shiny style. Blending in is better than being a spectacle. Besides, assimilation feels so good sometimes, like a --
Nevermind that.
But for the past few weeks i've been bucking the trend. Applaud me. Big and curly every day and i'm kind of liking it! I feel very Tracee Ellis Ross-esque. (LOVE her. she is super hot. Wanna be like her when i grow up.) The only thing is the humidity! A little humidity is good. It keeps my hair moist and my curls hydrated. But a lot of humidity (like today) and my hair becomes short on curl and long on frizz. Hello sideshow bob! Not a sexy look by any means.
Oh and another thing. My hair shrinks up SO much when its in its natural state. Like crazy short. It looks like i cut it. But even with my length "gone" I am enjoying this styling break. Of course it just means that i am now obsessed with products for natural hair - there's so much to choose from! Jojoba oil, sweet almond oil, anita grant products, jane carter solution.. my mind is going absolutely nuts with the possibilities. Whole foods and health food stores are my new weakness. I am in LOVE with coconut oil. Since incorporating it into my regimen my hair has never felt softer or stronger. Plus I'm doing something I NEVER would do if i was still wearing my hair pressed out - oiling my scalp everyday! Old school style. Only the coconut oil is much lighter and absorbent than that heavy grease my mom used to use on me back in the day (tcb what!) my scalp feels good and my hair smells gauguin's dreams. The good ones.
I just realized this entry took a decidedly girlish turn. Sorry about that. I mean i *am* woman hear me roar and all that stuff... but i didn't mean to be so loud.
Anyway.
So I have discovered the joys of the early morning stretch and i'm really not sure how it was that i was NOT doing this all the time. Stretching was left to my pilates sessions or as a warm up for some kind of vigorous workout, but never as a "workout" in itself. Well let me tell you. Every morning when i wake up i do a series of stretches that not only wake up my body, but my mind. Its fantastic. Neck, arms, legs, waist... when i'm done i feel as loose as a goose. Flexibility is the bomb.
Gotan Project - Triptico (my current stretching music)
So I was sitting here this evening going through some of my personal things -separating the wheat from the chaff if you will- and i noticed that a number of my treasured items are from former beaux.
I am a bit of a pack rat. Not in the bordering on psychotic sense (Have you read anything about hoarders? *shudder* Now THEY have issues) because i do, can, and have thrown things away. However anything with the least bit of sentimental value? I find it hard to separate ways. I still have a babysitter's club book that was given to me by fourth grade BFF Nikki Parker. Can't, won't throw that away. High school graduation notices from so many moons ago? Got em.
This is especially true with things from a former BF. After the demise of a relationship, i was never the type to go sell jewelry on ebay, burn up love letters, rip shirts to shreds, break mix CDs or cut up pictures that might have him in them. Nope. I keep all that falderall. The "remove all evidence of them out of your life" approach always seemed a bit dramatic to me. Although I haven't been in THAT many relationships, the ones that i were in lasted years, and to discard all vestiges of them was akin to throwing those years away. Baby with the bathwater if you will. Like leaving great gaping holes in my personal timeline. Yes its sucks that it ended. Yes it hurt like the dickens. But when i was given _____ it meant something. And for that reason alone, it is not refuse.
Of course it could be argued that I have not had a relationship end badly enough and that's why i am able to hold on to trinkets of past lives and loves. If i should ever experience that kind of break up (and here is hoping i never do) i may find myself eating crow and taking items to the community dump.
...Or the incinerator.
But so far so good. Don't get me wrong, i have been heartbroken, dejected, totally lovesick...and everything else synonymous with a breakup (lawd have i), but as of this writing i've been fortunate that its not been so bad that i feel compelled to toss all physical remnants of the former union. Instead, I relegate selected items to a box (or boxes) to be put away for safe keeping. Out of heart, out of sight, but not out of existence.
Maybe i'm a bit of a sadist? A weirdo? Both?
Regardless of my predilection for pain, I didn't think this was a bad thing. Surely i'm not the only one with keepsakes of this sort? I mean, its not like i torment myself with oft repeated memories which would be painful and pointless. I don't sit in front of the memorablia weeping every night. In fact, i often forget it exists, save for times like these, when i'm trimming the fat, and i get some good "ohhh yeah... i remember this!" moments. Or reading an impassioned letter/poem from a former thinking: "Dang...i inspired this?"
Which brings me to tonight. I am going through some things when my phone rings. Its my "fiance" (lol) on the phone. We haven't talked in a minute, so we play catch up. He asks what i am doing, and when i tell that i going through some things an ex gave me, i'm met with a "Oh yeah...you can't be having all that when we're married."
*distortion to static*
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"Exactly what i said. What do you need another man's stuff for?"
I'm laughing. "What the...why would it matter to you?"
"Why shouldn't it?"
I'm not sure how i should i respond. I never gave it a thought as to whether it would matter or not. To me, the stuff is no longer "a present given to me by ___" its just *me*. Perhaps i'm not making much sense, but its like - this is part of my history. Throwing away the tangible evidence of a past relationship it does not change the fact that it happened. The things in the boxes symbolize accumulated experiences -- good and bad, that have a bearing, however small, on the person i am today. It's my existential trousseau.
I attempt to explain this in my typically jumbled way.
"I get what your saying... and it sounds all peachy, but no dude wants their woman still sleeping in an old boyfriends shirt, or to know she's holding on to old love letters. Trust."
"So you speak for all men now? Maybe you're just insecure."
(The best defense is a good offense you know.)
"Man, please. How would you feel if your man had love letters and crap from a former girlfriend(s)?"
Its on the tip of my tongue to give a flippant "I wouldn't care." But i take a second to think. I have always prided myself on not being the jealous type, but there are occasions when the green monster comes out and it surprises even me.
"I don't know." I was hedging. "It would depend."
"On what?"
"On whether she was flyer than i am." (evasive maneuver what!)
I was being silly, as i usually am when faced with situations that i am not comfortable.
"Come on lex, be serious."
"I am!" (I so wasn't.) "So you're saying you don't keep anything from a former girlfriend?"
"I don't."
"You're a lie. What about ____"
"Ok video games are something different."
"But its from a girlfriend right?"
"Come on lex, there's a big difference between a video game and a love letter. BIG difference."
"True."
Suddenly I felt weird. I always thought i wouldn't care (hey everybody has a history right?), but being completely honest -- now i wasn't sure. None of my exes was particularly sentimental, at least not in the way that i am (and i concede that i am EXTRA sentimental sometimes), so i never had to deal with the issue first hand. In theory it shouldn't make a difference, but practically? it just might. True, things are just things, and what really matters is where the heart is... yet still.
Maybe what i thought wouldn't matter actually does, but its my pride that won't let me admit it.
I didn't drive regularly right after getting my driver's license. At the time I was a broke student, and the insurance company my parents had at the time wanted to charge some ridiculous amount in order to add my inexperienced self to the policy. If i remember correctly, it was around an extra two grand a year. My dad was like "Oh HECK no" and that was that. Unfortunately, because i lived in their house, i couldn't just not be on the insurance. Because i was now an official licensed driver, i either HAD to be on the insurance, or I had to be excluded of off it. There was no neutral ground. The one caveat of having an otherwise reasonably priced policy in a city notorious for having exorbitant insurance costs.
So, my parents dutifully sent my information to their insurer, which meant that if i decided to drive their car, should i get into an accident, we would all be screwed.
Needless to say, i was not allowed behind the wheel.
I was outwardly disappointed with this turn of events - what's the point of being young and licensed and not having access to a car? - but inwardly i was relieved. I was legally able to drive, (a great accomplishment among my peers) but despite being given the green light by the PA Dept of Transportation, i still felt uncomfortable behind the wheel. Fortunately i didn't have to admit that fact, and i could go around blaming State Farm (or was it Allstate?) for my lack of driving ability.
After some months of languishing in driving purgatory, my parents switched insurers. The next company's rates were way more reasonable and finally I was added to the policy. My first assignment? An errand. Natch. My mom asked me to make a run to the CVS to pick up some stuff for the house. (I can't remember what.)
I was a nervous wreck. I had driven two?, maybe three times since receiving my license, and it had always been in the presence of an experienced driver. This time I would be the experienced driver. (HA!) The only other person with me would be my brother, who had not yet gotten his license. Add to that the fact that i would be driving the family car. A 1984 Chevy Caprice Station wagon, the other car was too pretty for my newbie hands. The horror! I prayed no one i knew (or would want to know) would see me.
Still, driving was driving, and though i wasn't manning the prettiest vehicle, i desperately needed the practice. I pushed my nerves (and vanity) to the background.
My brother and I made it to CVS without incident. Despite the ugliness that was my transportation, I was feeling pretty good when we walked through the automatic doors. I may have had damp pits on my person, and the father of all jalopies in the parking lot, but i did it. We made it there, alive. Applaud me. We finished our shopping and got in the car to make the return trip home. My pulse had calmed considerably, i was a lot less nervous than i was on the trip up.
Foot on the brake, I turned the engine on. My brother immediately began fiddling with the radio.( some things never change.) I put the car in gear, placed my right hand on the passengers side headrest and looked out the rear window to make sure there were no pedestrians. Satisfied the coast was clear, I gave the engine some (ok a lot of) gas and --
BAM!!!
I felt every bone in my body vibrate.
WTF?
Apparently, instead of putting the car in reverse, i had put it in drive. We had slammed into the brick wall of CVS.
For the life of me, to this day, i have no idea how we didn't just go through the wall. I hit it HARD.
The noise was loud enough to send CVS security outside to see what was going on. What he saw was me, red faced and sheepish looking.
Due to the wonders of my imagination, i had already conjured up the outcome of this nasty turn of events -- i'd be arrested, my license would be revoked, my parents would have to pay for the damage. Oh the shame i'd bring upon the family escutcheon!
I got out of the car, to survey the damage. To my amazement, there was none, to the building OR the car. I began explain to the explaining to the security guy what happened. He didn't really seem to care one way or another. The building was fine and I was fine, he just warned me to double check my gears in the future -- with a smirk on his face i might add.
Totally hate him.
At that point, whatever mental progress i had made on the drive up, had suddenly evaporated. I did not want to drive home, and had my brother had ANY experience whatsoever behind the wheel of a car, i would have probably made him do it. As it was, he had none, and so I had to.
My first and last experience with sweaty palms. On the drive home i had the steering wheel gripped up something serious. (Eww gross.)
I told my mom what happened - "conveniently" never mentioned it to my dad who probably would have had a coronary (though now that we are years past the incident i might recount it sometime at a family dinner) and once she found out we were ok, and that the car was ok, (though with some heretofore nonexistent scratches on the front bumper) laughed at the whole situation. Its something we laugh at from time to time.
"Remember when you hit CVS?"
...
There was a point to this. Something about me suffering from writers block and it feeling as unyielding as the wall i drove into that fateful day.
Oh, bother. Once again, i got caught up in the setup.
Jamiroquai - Do you know where you're coming from? (One of my favorite songs to cruise to)
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