Contemporary hip-hop is as fake as a square two-cent penny and everyone is trying to spend that crap on a Furby. I don’t listen to the radio anymore. I hate hearing the lyrics so simple, vulgar, and pointless that either have the words are censored or a two-year old can sing the entire song like repeating a presidential list of Fry words. Don’t get me wrong. I know that music evolves and there are some great artists out there repping the craft; but, what happened to the real backbone of hip-hop? What happened to relevance and feeling? What happened to relating to life and not expecting drug money glamour and shiny plastic round bottoms? None of that is for me. Most of us are everyday people who are cool like that, right? I miss the golden age of hip-hop. I guess that’s why I love the movie, Brown Sugar, so much. A love letter to hip hop. Now, it’s more like a Dear John.
I wrote a poem about it on my other blog. Here’s the link. And you thought you knew
I like being in charge, but I will gladly relinquish control of a situation to someone capable of making it work. Most importantly, I will relinquish control to a higher power. Lately, I haven’t been as close to God as I want to be. I haven’t relinquished control out of want and desire. I established a pattern to single-handedly fulfill my own wishes and needs. I prayed for the things that I wanted instead of the things that I needed. In the end, I didn’t get what I wanted. I got something that was better for me and for those with whom I will be collaborating.
What made me so arrogant in my singularity? Nothing other than lack of consideration or realization that I did not collaborate with God. Foolishly, I considered myself and expert in all things Meka without acknowledging all that He has done for me. You don’t have to be religious to feel as if your destiny isn’t fate. I don’t have a religion; I have a relationship. I forgot about that relationship as I dreamed of happy days and success. Why is it that when the sky is falling and the ground is crumbling, I remember the need for this connection, this heavenly collaboration.
I have been blessed with family and friends with collaborative spirits. We meet and tackle troubles head first. I have no doubt that, at any time of the day or night, someone is willing to help me. I hope and pray that everyone has that same collection of supportive people. One by one, we are singular in our motives and our successes; but, imagine if we collaborated on our dreams and hopes? We could advance our communities with limitless resources. That transcends religion. Regardless of what you worship and in whom you believe, our relationship with a higher calling makes us want to do good and present the best of ourselves to the world. I like to believe that 90 percent of our issues with society can be eradicated with a little spiritual and wholesome collaboration. I want better; you want better. We should collaborate, ya dig?
From the moment that I wake to the second that I fall asleep, I have traversed the corners of my mind and lost myself in its maze. Much like my grand and well-planned ideas, I try to begin with some pattern of order.
For example, I had a dream that instantly gave me the idea for a book. I instantly start writing ideas down and doing research only to be distracted by the idea of a poem. The idea of the poem reminds me of something that I read by Langston Hughes. I love Langston. Off I go in search of a book of his poems that I keep in the guest room. I cannot find the book, so I go online and use the remainder of my Amazon gift card to buy another.
While online, I see a link (courtesy of website cookies) to more Happy Planner stickers. Anyone who knows me knows that I love my Happy Planner/adult sticker book/scrapbook/life organizer. One “Oooh! I want that!” second later, I am digging in my work bag for my planner. Darn, I haven’t finished the weeks of May and there are many activities on Post-it notes waiting to adorn my stickered pages. Ten minutes later, I am sitting at the dining room table with my calendar caddy, planner, and laptop. As I mark the dates, my mind wanders to the meal planning and recipe stickers that I found for less than a dollar.
The menu stickers make me think of dinner. What should I cook for dinner? Speaking of dinner, Ayesha Curry sure makes meal prep look easy. I then proceed to research recipes online. But, the kitchens are so pretty and there is a conveniently placed Pinterest pinning button. As I pin the dream kitchen for the dream house that my dream job will purchase, I think of lemons. I like lemons. Do I have any lemons? Nope. I decide to go to the store for some lemons. Lemon, butter, garlic, and chicken.
Mental list made, I take a shower. The shower reminds me of songs that I need to learn for praise team practice. I jump out of the shower, leaving fat wet footprints on the floor as I run to get my phone. With the playlist going, I sing for the rest of the shower. The phone rings. Some poor soul thinks I deserve a free vacation that I must pay for. Sorry, no. A vacation outfit comes to mind. I reach in the closet and grab my sun yellow kimono shawl, a white tank, and some jeans. Mascara applied, I head to the store thinking of lemons. On the way, I see the new library they are building. I think of the books that I want to read. So, I go to the library. Books make me want to sit and read. Well, sit and read as I drink coffee or tea. So, I head to Starbucks, pre-order my tea, and sit for a spell. The book makes me hungry for tacos. Tacos would be great for dinner. I eat a taco from the place right by Micheal’s. I wonder if they have more clearance stickers at Michael’s.
Ten minutes and three dollars later, I am in afternoon traffic headed home where the laundry is not done, the dinner will not be, and the beginning of the book never was.
My mind is a maze where I am often distracted and sidetracked. Although I know there is a way to master it, I find that the turns and walls keep me doing exactly everything that I want at that one fleeting moment. Perhaps Daedalus had a point; just like his masterful Labyrinth, my mind changes and grows with my every move. I think I like the happiness of it.
Speaking of happy, my Happy Planner cover reminds me of the lemons that I never bought. Doesn’t lemon herb-butter chicken sound delicious? Does Ayesha have a recipe for that?
I recently suffered a setback. Knowing better, but feeling mortal, I got my hopes up on an endeavor that I considered the perfect opportunity for me. For a little over a week, I sweetly suffered through daydreams. Decor. Quotes. Dreams of desktop adorableness and rewarding work. Then, as if sharing the punishment of Prometheus, my daydream dissolved in a mere nanosecond. To say that I was upset, is a severe understatement. I cried the tears of a grieving soul. I cried until my eyes and cheeks were red and raw. I cried for the loss of the daydream and the happiness that I envisioned as its accomplice. Mainly, I cried because I felt like a failure, unequivocally unaware of my shortcomings. I rested and then I cried some more.
Until now, I never understood how the loss of hope, even a hope so small that it could sit on the tip of a needle, could feel like the loss of a loved one, a part of myself, or a piece of my soul. But I am reminded that the loss of hope is temporary. It won’t last forever. This daydream wasn’t for me. Someone else is enjoying the visions of my future and that hurts me a little, but it doesn’t end me. This setback is only temporary. Who knows what tomorrow will bring. And just like it never happened, I will dream and hope again.
Here I dream of that languid lifestyle enjoyed by so few. I picture myself sitting in the comfortable Homes and Garden photographed and staged window seat (that I do not own, but have on my wish list) of my home office, lounging in my PJs, reading one of my thirty library books (that are due), drinking tea from a proper tea service (also on my wish list). There is no media, no phone, no computer, no connection to the outside world. For just a few hours, I enjoy life au naturale. The dishes are done. The laundry is done. The shopping is nicely put away and a crockpot is lovingly tending to a roast (which my husband does not eat) for Sunday dinner. It is sunny and cool like the autumn mornings you see in Stars Hollow. And most importantly, my agenda for the day is selfishly centered around me and my think time. Across the room, is a beautiful antique desk and built-ins that are organized by Martha. Because of the therapeutic joy my Happy Planner has bestowed upon me, I have begun scrapbooking. Once I finish reading this chapter, I will turn on Gilmore Girls or some Duke or Coltrane and begin setting my planner for the next couple of weeks. I will write a few blogs, check the roast, and maybe go for a bike ride. I will snack on cheese, crackers, and grapes (sometimes in the form of wine). Most importantly, I will be at peace with the beautiful stillness of time standing still.
My life is full of meetings, appointments, work, and volunteering. I love every minute of it. But, my lifestyle is a languid dream of peace, self-discovery, and comfort.