My Opinion Is My Research

It Would Be So Nice...

2008-08-19T21:40:00.003-05:00

if all my debts were paid off

if my face remained clear no matter what time of the month it is

if my dream husband showed up at my doorstep in the morning

if I didn't get so worn out in the middle of dance class

---------------------------------------------------------------

if I could read my Bible like I loved it

if I was more secure in my beliefs

if I could be unwavering in all things

if my physical, spiritual, and emotional selves could merge and finally be one

Now Is My Chance!!!

2008-08-16T19:04:00.002-05:00

I am finally moving. I've scoured every apartment search website, the Washington Post, and craigslist listing until I found the right fit for me. Several factors went into my apartment hunt, among them were cost, location, and amenities. It seems to me that in the DC area, you have to be making 6 figures to afford the posh flats in the desirable areas. Obviously, I make just a few thousand dollars shy of that, so I had to broaden my horizons. I'm moving to the 'hood!

I'm renting a condo in PG county which, unfortunately has earned a bad reputation for being low-income and unsafe. This may be true to an extent. However, the only way to improve these characteristics is from the inside. After I got over my bourgie-ness, I've decided to take the plunge. This rental has 2 out of three things on my list. The rent is well within my budget and has new appliances.

The thing I am most excited about is finally being able to PURCHASE REAL FURNITURE!!! Since living in the dorms, I've had two rentals. In the first one, I slept on a borrowed mattress. In the second one, I slept on a foldaway bed. Now I get to get a real one. I'm renting a studio that is a little over 400 square feet. I am considering this the ultimate design challenge. Over the next few months, I will try to post photos of my new space and how I am making it my own through the use of proper furniture arrangement, color, and texture. I might even use this as a portfolio piece. Be on the lookout!

Gas: Full of Hot Air

2008-08-07T18:29:00.002-05:00

All I've been hearing lately in the news, on the radio, from my friends and family, is how bad gas is getting. I've even made a complaint or two concerning the price of my Precious 87. It's been floating around 4 bucks lately. Actually, the past few weeks, I've seen prices tumble about 10 cents, but I'm sure they'll be back up. I was so happy last week when I got gas for $3.87. Never thought I'd be glad about that. I was paying $4.13 a month ago.

Anyway, there is absolutely no point in complaining about gas prices. We still drive our cars. We still mow our lawns. We still order stuff online that needs to be shipped by big trucks. And my goodness, some of us still drive Hummers and Excursions. Gasoline will continue to be pumped to our fueling stations as long as there are people in vehicles that will by that gas. While I'm not an over-zealous, Greenpeace, PETA, tree hugging environmentalist, I do consider myself environmentally conscious. Not because I think the planet is going to melt, but becaus I am a believer in God, and I feel I have a responsibility to be a good steward of the resources we've been blessed with.

So what exactly is my point?

I don't really have one. I was just thinking about gas today because I forgot to get some last night so I went to work on an orange light so I knew I wouldn't make it back home. This wouldn't normally be a problem. However, in and around this nation's capital, it's not that easy to get to a gas station at 5:00 in the afternoon. I think I burned more fuel trying to find a station.

Dance Dance Revolution

2008-07-20T14:02:00.002-05:00

About a week ago, I started dance classes. Not just any dance class, but West African on Tuesdays and Brazilian Samba on Thursdays. It. Is. Awesome.

Dancing has always been a childhood dream of mine, something I wasn't allowed to do because of my strict mother and our even stricter budget. I used to want to be a ballerina, pretty and tall, dancing gracefully at an evening recital in a fluffy pink tutu with my family proudly watching me from the audience and bringing me flowers after the performance. Oh well.

I love Samba. it's so much energy, lots of fun. The instructor broke down all the steps and after a little stumbling, I got it. The West African dance is something I thought I'd be a natural at. Well, I was wrong. The instructor was very talented, but he was also very fast paced. I got the basic steps, but I felt awkward and heavy on my feet. I want to keep at it, but I think I may switch to jazz or maybe modern. Perhaps even ballet? I know I'm older and those tender years where ones body is highly capable of being shaped are gone, but wouldn't it be amazing to spend the next 20 or so years of my life trying to do something I love?

The night after my first class, I cried on the way home. It's not just dancing for the exercise or meeting new people or to relieve my boredom. It was all the years of snuffing out the movement inside my soul. All the years of pretending I didn't want to dance just to please my mom. The feeling was comparable to flying.

I Hate Responsibility

2008-06-12T21:23:00.002-05:00

Getting into a car accident is annoying enough, but all the paperwork and crap that comes after is really annoying. I'm sick of getting papers in the mail and having to schedule phone calls and why, WHY did I get billed as overdrawing my bank account in Searcy when I thought I closed it? I'm pissed. One of these days, I will be worry free. Probably not any time soon. I am in the car buying process and pretty soon in the real estate buying process which scares the crap out of me. I want to rent because it's familiar and easy. I want to buy because it's an investment and I get to do what I want. The conundrum is with renting, you don't have to have that much up front, but you pay through the nose per month and in the end, you don't get to keep the property. With buying, you have to pay a lot of cash in the beginning, but the monthly payments aren't as high. I'm torn.

He's not dead because he never died.

Now he is and I don't even care.

Painful House

2008-06-06T19:05:00.003-05:00

What is the deal with Tyler Perry's new TV show House of Payne? It comes on Wednesday nights at 9 (8 for you Arkansans) on TBS. I kept seeing all these commercials about it and hearing how funny it was. I wasn't really all that interested in watching it because I think the sitcom as we once knew it died 10 years ago, but I figured, let's give Tyler a chance. Well, I actually tried to watch it and I was greatly disappointed. I mean majorly. It was not good. Borderline awful. There were a few (I stress few) good lines, but they were so poorly acted, that they got washed out. I don't know where they found these people, but they aren't professional at all. It seems to me that Perry found them at church or something and asked them to be in his new show. They all sound like they're reading cue cards. It's just sad because I kept trying to like the show. I kept trying to laugh, I kept trying to make it work, but it just didn't have the gusto. Shame on Tyler Perry for attempting to diversify his portfolio. Even more shame on TBS for over advertising this waste of a summer time slot.

To make matters worse, they're selling the first volume on DVD.

My heart is full...

2008-05-31T21:12:00.002-05:00

It's so nice to make connnections when you think there are none. I met a huge group of Christian singles and hung out with them practically all weekend. I can't describe how blessed I am. It's easy to make friends in college when there is an abundance of people the same age as you and at the same station in life as you. But it's hard when you move to a new town and have to start all over with new people.

Thank you, God for answering my prayers.

So it finally happened...

2008-05-22T21:13:00.003-05:00

Well, I got in my first car accident. I went through all the requisite "it happened so fast" and "I felt like I was going in slow motion"'. I hydroplaned (I think) into the back of a minivan. I was very upset. I felt like a failure and like a loser for crashing my car. To top it off, I got a ticket. "Failure to control speed to avoid a collision". It sounds like something they made up just to fill in the space on the form.
The worst part of an accident is the clean up afterwards. Not from the physical pieces of the car, but all the insurance hassle. I feel like it will never be over with the phone calls and paperwork. It's total crap. Oh well. I hope they total it because I really want either a Toyota Matrix, or a Honda Fit.

i'm a little concerend about myself

2008-05-20T21:19:00.002-05:00

I wish I could control my emotions a little better.

Adults Are Just Grown Up Kids

2008-05-19T20:26:00.002-05:00

It took me a while to realize that there is no magical age of being "grown up". There is no point in one's life that determines the line between childhood and adulthood. Instead of being a fine line, it's more of a grey, mile-wide, Gaussian blurred amorphous blob that separates them. Discovering this, I've found myself being much more sympathetic toward my mom. Or any parent for that matter. Having kids doesn't automatically make all your childhood wishes, hopes, and fears go away. I wonder when I'll see the other side of my gray blur. I still perceive myself as a pseudo-adult. Everyday, I have to force myself to act like what I think adults act like. I pay attention to my mannerisms, the things I say, the way I say them. No matter what I do, I have to make my acting believable. When will I feel ready? When can I honestly say, "yes, I am definitively, without a doubt, an adult"?

It's Been A While

2008-05-18T23:13:00.004-05:00

I'm back after a year long hiatus. Much has transpired in these months. I am no longer in Searcy. I've moved to the D.C. area. I have a job working on one of the largest architectural renovation projects in the world (and making good paper!). I'm living with family for dirt cheap rent. I'm saving for an apartment, and hopefully soon after a house. Things seem to be on track. Yet, I'm still reeling from last summer. The demons like to creep up every now and then, but I'm fighting with two swinging fists. Unfortunately, I'm still having some spiritual issues. I must admit, I used Searcy and the entire Bible Belt as a sort of faith crutch. It was easy to be "Christianly" influenced and allow God to work in my life. Now that I'm away from that, it's much more difficult. I don't pick up my Bible unless it's Sunday at 8:30 am. I want to feel... Feel more...I guess just feel more. Now that I have TV and other distractions like that, It's easy to not want to feel. My life has become compartmentalized. In one basket, I have work. In another, I have home. In yet another basket, I have family. But there's still more for church, God, and myself. The problem with the latter three is that they don't share a basket. I don't know what to do about it. At night when I'm about to go to sleep, I don't want to think of anyone but myself. I don't want to pray, I don't want to read. Just me and myself. I hate that I'm so selfish. I'm glad to be blogging again, though. For a while, I had nothing to say. I hope that writing again will help me find the real me, but even more importantly, the real God.

Trying To FInd My Way Back...

2007-09-16T21:12:00.001-05:00

This trip has not been pleasant.

A Cryptic Message.

2007-08-17T07:32:00.000-05:00

Why, oh why have I been tortured at this crossroad? Making decisions are not inherently difficult. It's the regret that comes after that's the hard part.

"It's not that simple," I said to her. But what she truly doesn't understand, is me. I am not a surface person. I am not an obvious person. The things I say and do don't come from my external resources, they stem from my core.

But something is coming that has been a long time in the making. I don't know what it is, but I wish I could pray that God guides me safely through it.

I don't think I have ever needed God any more than I do right now.

7.25.07
R.I.P.K.F.S.
and without fanfare.

I Have Learned, and Am Still Learning.

2007-08-14T08:29:00.001-05:00

I am most thankful for the opportunity at life. In recent times, I have learned that it is precious. I wish I could remember that all the time. Unwillingly traveling to the darkest corners of one's mind is an experience like none other. I am still learning how to give up control, let go, and give it all to God. But I don't quite know that that means.

I am thankful for finally discovering the meaning of true friendship.

A Wise Man Once Said:

2007-07-01T21:29:00.001-05:00

What is the point? Life is meaningless. It's all like chasing the wind. What am i doing? What purpose does it serve? Am I wasting my time, and if so, how much have I actually wasted?

I long for a life I've never had, nor will I ever see. So, until the day when I can go back in time, I sit and wait.

on the world to change.

I had this great plan for my life.

2007-06-24T21:21:00.000-05:00

Or maybe I should go live in Africa.

So What?

2007-06-17T20:32:00.000-05:00

Last year, I went to the doctor's for a checkup. Being a new patient, I had to fill out endless paperwork before I could even be called back. Finally, I made it to the small waiting room (for you die-hard Seinfeld fans) and a nurse was asking me all these personal questions. Do you smoke? No. Do you drink? No. Are you sexually active? No. How many sexual partners have you had? Zero.

"Well look at you!" she exclaimed, apparently amazed at the fact that I'm a "good girl". For a brief second, I beamed internally at myself because of the fact that my lifestyle is so clean. But a nano second after that, I thought, SO WHAT?! What does it matter if I do all these things? What about helping the widows and orphans and being kind to my neighbors and feeding the poor? What about those things?

I was first introduced to volunteer work in high school. We had to complete a certian amount of hours of community service in order to graduate. In my eyes at the time, what I was doing was enough. I helped out with the Adopt-A-Street program. I tutored kids after school. Yada yada yada. I look back now and see that, yes, I was doing stuff to help other people, but my goal was to get as many hours logged as possible to get my diploma. I wish that I could have done that stuff without a reward in the end. I wish I could do that now.

Sometimes I sit at church and all I see around me are couples, holding hands, and I look at my life and think, when will it be my turn? I think it unfair that these people get to have somebody and I don't. But what about all those widows? Some of them were married to their best friends for many, many decades, only to lose them in their prime. How must it feel to lose the one you thought you'd be with forever? Why should I complain about my single status when I haven't lost one I loved? Instead of looking internally, what can I do externally for these women? I only wish I knew.

Two days ago, a friend of my mom's died. Actually, my mom met her because she wanted our family to adopt a homeless family. Ms. Cassandra had six kids, two of which were living with her. She eventually got on her feet and was living in a house around the corner from us. My mom insisted on bringing her kids to church with us, so we all got fairly close. When I heard the news of her death, I thought about the kids, who are 15 and 13. Who will take care of them? Their extended family is incapable of taking care of them. Will they be put in foster care? They've already had such a hard life. What about them? There are so many kids in foster care in need of homes, or in need of adoption. What about them?

I'm tired of basing my Christianity on the things I don't do. What about the things I do? So what if I don't screw around? So what if I don't get drunk? So what if I don't get high? What about these other people that I walk past every day? What about them?

Why Don't You Just Go...Somewhere?

2007-06-14T11:55:00.000-05:00

I've been pretty interested in the argument about illegal immigrants. Lately, the issue has caused problems for many, especially those on the campaign circuit. For me, it's difficult to form an opinion because it's not as black and white as it would appear to be. It has been argued that if we were to deport every last illegal immigrant in this country, the infrastructure would suffer terribly. Conversely, it has also been argued that if we allow illegals to remain, it would become easier for more to come. Which side do I take?

I have admitted that I am wishy-washy when it comes to stuff like this. But it seems to me that our government failed a long time ago to fix a problem that was, at the time, too unimportant to do anything about. Now, years later, the problem has surfaced and is not going anywhere unless someone does (or doesn't do) anything about it. I work in the architecture and design industry. I think my career is influenced alot by the decisions made on Capitol Hill about illegals. "They do the jobs Americans won't do". As awful as this unnecesarily overrepeated phrase sounds, it seems true. How many people go to school to become a construction worker? What percentage of counctruction workers are American? Of course because I'm too lazy to do actual educated research, I don't have the answer to those questions, but based on personal experience, I would have to say the numbers swing increasingly toward the immigrant side. Whether these people are legal or not, I don't know. But, if the president were to say, "No more jobs for illegal immigrants!", the construction sites may shut down, and my job would be all for nought. I also find it funny that the people making decisions about illegals employ them to clean their overly large McMansions with their well-manicured lawns. I just made that up, but I wouldn't doubt it happens.

The term "illegal immigrant" is perfectly American in all it's political correctness. It doesn't mention a specific nationality or ethnic group. However, it's a code word for the image it conjures up. If some random guy says "I wish those 'Illegal Immigrants' would just go back to their country of origin", what he could really mean is "those wetbacks are ruining our country!" Political correctness is the slur thesaurus of America. It's quite comical actually. So, is the issue a race thing? I don't think it should be, but I'm sure many people have tried to make it one. I know when I hear that term, I don't think of the Canadian guy who has screwed up paperwork and is here illegally. I wonder how many Canadian people are actually illegal immigrants. I wonder how many American looking Europeans are here illegally.

A new issue, a sub-issue I like to call it, is language. Whether Spanish is accepted in businesses and schools as a second language. I don't have a problem with that. I actually welcome it. I've always loved languages. However, I know that many people see it as a threat to the American way of life. "In America, we speak English, and so should everyone else." This is a decent argument that I can understand. When I was in Namibia, I was thoroughly amazed by this girl who comfortably switched between four languages, Ovambo, Nama, Afrikaans, and English, like it was nothing. What's wrong with Americans becoming bilingual? English is a widely spoken language and it appears that one day it may become a world trade language. This is not entirely bad, but language is identified with culture and it may sprout cultural genocides everywhere. But that's another blog for another day.

I guess after all this writing, I'm supposed to come to some sort of conclusion: If something is illegal, it's probably not right. But what do you do if the law is wrong? There is no quick fix to the situation, but it also needs to be fixed quickly.

I don't know. That's why I'm not a politician.

Hi-Didley-I, Neighbor!

2007-06-03T18:17:00.000-05:00

I love how the media portrays us Christians. TV show after TV show, movie after movie, the same archetype is played out. Super-overly conservative, hypocritical, Bible-thumping, ankle length skirt wearing, street corner preaching, homeschooled, pew sitting, Republican, weirdos. Ned Flanders from the Simpsons is a prime example. Incredibly nice, but very restrictive, and super pious. (His sons don't roll dice when playing Monopoly, the just take turns.) Unfortunately, I know people like him. The character is funny, so I laugh; but then I think, is this what America really thinks of Christians? If I tell people, "yeah, I believe in Jesus" is this the picture they will form in their minds?
There is a movement now that is trying to eliminate the use of the word "Christian" to describe those who floow Jesus. The new term is "Christ-Follower". That's an apt description, but I think that it's trying too hard to shake a personality. There is this series of videos that I came across that are absolutely entertaining. It's a parody of the Mac vs. PC comericials except that it's Christ Follower vs. Christian. I had to chuckle after I saw them.

But then, I thought, what use is it to change what you are called? In 100 years, people will probably have a backlash against the name "Christ-Follower". There has always been a group of people trying to break out of the traditional role that Christians typically play, probably because of media portrayals. My generation is apparently afraid of tradition. We want to have ideas that are innovative and ground breaking. Hymnals are out, PowerPoint is in. Pews are restrictive, metal folding chairs are free. The preacher is ancient, the youth minister is vibrant. Why? What's so wrong with tradition?
We are raging against the wrong machine. Tradition is not bad. The use of tradition in place of scripture is bad. That is what we should be trying to change. "See to it that no one takes you captive through hollow and deceptive philosophy, which depends on human tradition and the basic principles of this world rather than on Christ." (Colossians 2:8).
I don't like to buy into the hype of Christian fads. Now, in high school, I did proudly display my WWJD bracelet. But that was another time in my life. When I came to college at Harding, I was challenged to find my own version of Jesus. I think most people go through a stage when they are trying to find out their belief system without their parents' involvement, and that's just what I went through. I've had long, sometimes painful discussions with friends and shed many tears. The question of "what is it exactly that I believe" has not fully gone away, but I understand alot more about myself and my God. The funny thing about university is that it is full of pseudo-revolutionaries, full of zeal for changing the world. This, uinfortunately leads to lots of hype. The Christian books, the Christian bands, the Christian clothes, it was all so dizzying. Thus, I have become incredibly cynical about the matter. I roll my eyes at both the liberals and the conservatives, not wanting to give leeway to any side. The truth is, I envy people like Ned Flanders sometimes. They have a belief, and they are unwaivering, no matter how foolish it may make them look. I am wishy-washy on many issues that I should have taken a stand on a long time ago.
I grew up in a tradition where we got ready for Sunday services on Saturday night, layed out our clothes, got hair pressed, donned tights and patent leather shoes, and traipsed off to "worship". I no longer do that. My attitude hasn't changed, just the culture. I still like to get dressed up on Sunday morning, but it feels free to know that I don't have to. I DON'T want to become a jeans-to-church wearer because it's the cool Christ-Follower thing to do. I also DON'T like having my religious conviction called into play because of what I wear (or don't wear).

This rambling post has been brought to you by the letters J & C.

Relaxed Ain't Natural. Or Is it?

2007-05-27T18:53:00.000-05:00

I love my hair. I didn't always, though. Growing up with nappy hair meant you didn't have "good" hair. I learned, very early in life that there were several kinds of hair; in hierarchal order, white people hair, good hair, and nappy hair. White people hair was straight. Good hair was reserved for those black people who had naturally wavy or curly hair that grew long and shiny. Nappy hair was wooly and very African. I, of course had nappy hair, which was considered the lowest of the low. Short, hard to comb, and always in desperate need of grease. It was always getting tangled and I have broken my fair share of combs and brushes. My mamma used to plait my hair and put barettes on the ends so they would shake when I moved my head. But still, it wasn;t good enough to have plaited up nappy hair. I got my first relaxer when I was 11 and I loved it. But I never got as many compliments on the state of my hair until I went relaxer-free and started my dreds almost three years ago. I love them. They're getting longer and longer everyday. The first time my dreds blew in the breeze, I felt an overwhelming sense of bliss and I thought, this is why God gave me this hair.
It's difficult to unlearn a pattern of thinking. I have to catch myself when I want to say "oh she's got pretty hair". When I say that, I don't necessarily mean that her hairstyle is pretty, what I mean is that her hair texture is less wooly than my own. I have to teach my sister a new way of looking at hair. She got her hair relaxed when she turned 9. I don't want her to have a complex that her hair is not good enough. So many girls grow up with this same mindset.
In the media, all the black women I see either are ambiguously ethnic with wavy ringlets, or have some awful weave. Why is it that our hair needs to be covered up? I'm not anti weave, or anti-relaxer. I used to be, but I realize now that people make choices that are right for them. But, I do remember a few years ago they had a woman on Extreme Makeover Home Edition and she had natural hair all twisted up. The first thing that the hair dresser said was "well we need to relax this hair of yours..." I was a bit offended. It's as if the hair that grew out of her head wasn't good enough to surive the makeover. When I have kids, I want to teach them that their hair is okay like it is. It doesn't need to be changed, unless of course they want it to.

This was supposed to be an enlightening post, but...

2007-05-23T21:46:00.000-05:00

I am undecided.
I live my life as a series of hopes.
I wish things could be more definite.
I usually just say "when ______ happens, then I'll be ________."
For now, I just say "______ happens."

It's a struggle between want and need.
I know what I want, but what is it that i really need?
How do I know when my needs and wants collide?

What is even mine? How much of what is mine is God's?
If I live my life as a passing stranger, I think I can be content.
But I'm too attached to this life.

I should be more like the Egyptians, preparing for the afterlife during this present life, and helping others to do so.
The word 'temporary' is relative, but seems inappropriate when considering an entire lifetime.
70? 80? 90 years? That's not temporary. That seems forever.

90 years is a fleeting second compared to eternity.
So what are my 23?

God, I know you have plans for me.
Can you pencil me in for next Thursday?

Hip Hop is not just for bunnies...

2007-05-21T18:17:00.000-05:00

Is Hip Hop Dead?

That was an article featured on the cover of a recent issue of Jet magazine. I have been interested in the topic as of late because I have strong opinons about the matter.

Art never dies. It just gets mangled by those who seek to imitate it and it morphs into something else.

To answer the question, Hip Hop, as an art form is not dead. However, the hip hop that we knew and grew to appreciate has not been seen or heard from in years and years. I would say that around the middle to late 90's, hip hop, the art form, began to fade into the background and this new, more mainstream version of hip hop (I call pseudo-hip hop) began to emerge. More recently, it has taken a swing in a completely different direction. This ultra-pseudo-hip hop that is popular right now has become so annoying to me. This ultra-pseudo hip hop contains lyrics that are completely mindless and beats that can be heard in twenty other songs. So on the radio, one after the other are these songs that have no meaning other than to get me to pop lock and drop it.
Last summer, I spent quite a bit of time watching TV. I unfortunately fell prey to the mind trap of the young, the Bermuda Triangle that is VH1, MTV, and BET. Something I noticed while watching videos (of the ultra-pseudo hip hop nature) is an easy formula. The setting is either a club or a housing project. The subject is money, cars, and women. Add some kind of expensive alcohol and BAM! You got yourself an ultra-pseudo hip hop video. One of my cousins one time said she wanted to be in a video. I guess we can't all aspire to great heights. Anyway, the most disturbing thing is that it is easy to get sucked into that mindset. If you are a girl of low self esteem, you can easily raise it by knowing how to move in just the right way to get dudes to like you. To these videos' credit, I appreciate the sentiment that thick girls are better than skinny ones. But I don't want to get sidetracked. The thing that bugs me most is the popularity of the ultra-pseudo hip hop. It has crossed over into the most mainstream of audiences. Now, don't get me wrong, crossover music is not bad. However, when a type of music that supposedly represents an entire group of people crosses over, that's bad. The funny thing is that us black people, we think we own this music, when the reality is, white people put far much more money into this genre than we do.
Perhaps I'm a musical snob, but I prefer not to be associated with this music. I love to dance. I love to shake it. Okay, well maybe I'm a hypocritical musical snob. But my point is that I don't want the mainstream populace to see this form of hip hop as an expression of black people (ugh, I hate that argument). I don't want to be lumped into a category.
Perhaps the funniest thing of all is that I pretty much have always listened to "white people music", so named by my friends who insisted that I was a white girl. I'm not quite sure why. Now, I do like hip hop form the early 90's and currently by select artists, such as Common, Talib Kweli, or Lauryn Hill. In fact, one of Lauryn Hill's songs, "Superstar" from the Miseducation album has a line that I love:

"Yo, hip hop, started out in the heart, not everybody trying to chart.
Come on baby light my fire.
Everything you drop is so tired.
Music is supposed to inspire
So how come we ain't gettin' no higher?"

I wonder, what is it that draws certain people to certain music? Is it a social stigma? Is it just pure preference? Why is it that, in general, white people have their music, and black people have theirs? Why does my little sister like to listen to hip hop and R&B, but not rock or country? What if we grew up in a white family? Would our tastes in music be different?
I think it would be cool to do an experiment to attempt to answer that question. Or write a thesis. Or not.

Brand New, Old Shoes

2007-05-20T18:41:00.000-05:00

I have finally graduated from my Xanga (which I've had for over 900 days) to blogger. I figure I'd do more serious blogging. Or maybe not. I don't claim to be a great writer. I don't use many SAT vocabulary words unless, of course, the spirit moves me to. I don't claim to have any great knowledge. I just like to write publicly. I've always loved to write things. I have four volumes of "My Secret Notebook" to prove it.
I wrote down words, in no particular order. I wrote names I heard that I like. I wrote about my life. I wrote scriptures. I just wrote. It started in the seventh grade when I was very interested in seeing my handwriting change. I was successful because I now, by habit, cross my g's. I also began a novel. It was never finished. It also sucked. I never wanted to share its contents, so I labeled the outside of the notbook "My Secret Notebook" and I kept it in a hidden location. My thoughts and scrubbles spilt over into notebook number two a couple of years later when I discovered boys and how exactly a crush worked. I got my first crush in high school and I wrote about him constantly. There would be many other crushes that got put into this book. Book number three started right before college and is the most random collection of thoughts. Book number four began last summer and still has many empty pages to be filled. I am, by nature, a paper collector. Because of this ailment, I save everything, and I put the notebooks I no longer use into a binder marked "Chemistry" from high school. Thus completing my four volumes of "My Secret Notebook".
I got a Xanga during the Thanksgiving break of my sophomore year, in 2003. For some strange reason, I got a weird sense of enjoyment from having people read about my life. Maybe it is a vanity thing; the thought of someone wanting to read what I have to say. It's like instant fame. Of course, among the few people that actually read blogs.

Hello, Blogger.