Monday, January 24, 2005

Manic Monday

So this past weekend pretty much blew.

Actually, wait, I take that back. The weather blew. I'm not a fan of winter.
Winter blows.

The weekend was ok. Minus 30 degrees and a significant snow storm forced weather-wimps like me to shack up indoors. The thing is, a few years ago I'd have seen that as a blessing.

An excuse! To stay in bed! All day! Yoohoo!

But now I'm old. And try as I might to relax and let go and sleep all day just because I can, I can't. 10 p.m. is the absolute latest I can sleep in. Then, if I really force it, I can lounge in bed with my book, or the paper for a while (I quite love this quiet ritual). But marathon-PJs-all-day-sleep-fest? Forget it.

Now something annoying in my grown-up brain says, "Get up. Get showered. Get out." It won't allow me to "waste" the day away. There must be a chore to complete, a store to hit, a movie...? A museum?

This weekend it was a trip to the grocery store one day, a trip to the mall another. Sounds measly, I know, but considering the storm and the absurd cold, it was actually quite a hardship. Yet I did it. I didn't take the excuse and stay in bed all day. I didn't take the gift that was handed to me by Mother Nature.

And now it's Monday. And what do you think my very first thought was this morning at 7 a.m.? It's an easy guess and I'm sure that all of you have already said it to yourself.

"What I wouldn't give to just be able to stay in bed all day and do nothing."

In other words: I wish it were Sunday, that's my fun day.

Thursday, January 13, 2005

Straight Outta Compton

Ok. Not so I'm not quite straight outta Compton. Shit, I can't even claim to be straight outta Coxwell. Nope. I'm straight outta the lily-white, yuppy-infested, politically-correct, pseudo-liberal Beaches.

But I have a secret. I love gangsta rap. Specifically, I have a huge warm spot in my heart for the west-coast 80's bad-ass Compton crew NWA.

You're shocked, right? Hm. Well, that might just be why I like it so much. I've been listening since NWA came on the scene, and admittedly at first it probably had a lot to do with the fact that it was rebellious to be blaring this profanity in my feminist, socialist, non-racist, non-sexist, non-ageist, non-religious home. Yes, I can admit that.

However, rebellious or not, the funky beats from the "Straight Outta Compton" album and the cool, self-assured voices, tinged with teen angst and South Central style, of Eazy-E (RIP), DJ Yella, Dr. Dre and Ice Cube quickly settled into my soul.

Pretty soon this white yuppy-raised sweetheart was a little less girly and a little more gangsta. And guess what? I never grew out of it.

In fact, I think I grew INTO it. With every passing year as I listened, I developed a little more, I had a new outlook on life.

Early on it was definitely defiance. "Yeah, fuck tha police!" I thought.

A little later it was sexual. "Well, what do you want me to do with it? It don't matter, just don't bite it. She swallowed it! It's the worlds biggest dick."

But before long, as I grew and studied and expanded my mind, my understanding of the sociological meaning behind the music grew too. "I'm expressing with my full capabilities, and now I'm living in correctional facilities. 'Cause some don't agree with how I do this. I get straight and meditate like a Buddhist."

And saw the hypocrisy of the industry, "Some professionals cuss at home, too scared to use profanity when upon the microphone. Yeah, they want reality, but you will hear none, they'd rather exaggerate a little fiction. Some say no to drugs and take a stand, but after the show they go lookin' for the Dopeman."

I still remember quite vividly when Eazy-E died of AIDS. I'd known other people to succumb to the disease, but this one hit me in a different way. This was someone who, for reasons I still don't fully understand, I related to. He was from my generation. Hell, he was in my CD player! "I'm Eazy-E the one they're talking about. Ni**a tried to roll the dice and just crapped out." Looks like Eazy's the one who crapped out this time, huh?

One of my earliest, and dare I say strongest, celebrity crushes was on Ice Cube. Other girls I knew bought Teen Beat and pasted pin-ups of River Phoenix and Johnny Depp on thier walls. I searched the hiphop mags for shots of Cube. I watched Rap City religiously just waiting and hoping that they'd play one of his videos, not something that they did very often, mind you, until his solo album hit the charts. I admit it's a crush that lives on today. There's just something about him. He's in my Top 5.

You know, I don't know how to explain my passion for NWA. But I do know that despite the early corruption, I still grew up to be a feminist, socialist, non-racist, non-sexist, non-ageist, non-religious woman. I can listen to the music with a rebellious badass slant, but I can listen with a critical, sociological, intellectual understanding too. Do I agree with every message? Hell no. The point is, I still listen. And I still love it.

Shocking? Maybe. But when I'm dressed for work, grey wool coat and little black heels. Metallic pink iPod tucked dicsreetly into my black leather bag. I can't help but smile to know that on the other end of those earphones, unbeknownst to the subway full of commuters, I've got a head full of the NWA crew.

Hey, what can I say? If it ain't ruff, it ain't me.

Sunday, January 02, 2005

Baby Love

Scarbie's in labour. Holy fucking shit.

It's early in the New Year, and as I mentioned last time, little Pecker decided to hold out for 2005. Good for you my little lovely. It's a mild, rainy day. The kind of day that makes you feel a little tired and a little sad. So why can't I wipe the smile off my face?

I spoke to The Dog about an hour ago. He called from the hospital (Thank GOD because I've been spazzing since about 10 a.m. when I called to check in with the 'rents-to-be only to get voicemail on home and cell). He assures me that they are all doing fine. Mommy has had her drugs and was chatting away in the background. That's my girl.

Long story short. Baby is on his way. Could be anywhere from 5 - 12 hours, but looks like Jan. 2 is going to be our newest bday to celebrate. A good day if you ask me. Our boy will always have a party to go to before his special day (on account of New Year's), plus the unique opportunity to start each new year of his life at the same time as a brand-new calendar year begins. Double reason to focus on making each successive year the best one ever.

Plus, Mommy and Daddy will still have New Year's Eve to themselves (well, as much as they will have any day to themselves now that there's a new person in the picture) and won't necessarily have to throw parties with clowns and pinatas on New Year's Day.

Hangovers + clowns = NIGHTMARE (or so I would imagine).

I'm not really able to concentrate on anything and so I'm off again to go and stare at the phone. I have a feeling that next time it rings, there will be news of a baby. A baby!

Now I'm crying again... it's out of pure joy, rest assured. Scarbie and Dog, my thoughts are with you. I hope everything is going perfectly. I'm so proud of you both and I can't wait to see you next... when two will have become three.