Had the pleasure of attending an exquisite winetasting on Friday held by the Matanzas Creek winery, some winery all the way from my adopted hometown, San Francisco. It was exquisite because of so many things going right, cannot pick out anything wrong. The pours were extra generous. The wine itself was not that bad. I especially enjoyed their Chardonnay. There was no pressure to buy. Sometimes you get that feeling when you attend a winetasting at some winery, they start to tell you where you can purchase it or how much it or ask "so how many bottles will you be getting?" There was no pressure here at all. They actually had delectable type hor's d'oeuvres to go with it, served by the most charming of servers. You could actually feed on these light nibbles and skip out a real dinner for awhile. And it was not cheeses and crackers, such nonsense childish food. It was actually specialty prepared food: Tuna tartare, clams and oysters type deal. Very friendly wine staff. very friendly. Then, the catch, it was absolutely free. Even the parking. What's not to love about an event where you can get your drink on, eat, meet interesting people, chat about love of food and wine on a Friday evening.
Monday, March 30, 2009
let's talk wine
Had the pleasure of attending an exquisite winetasting on Friday held by the Matanzas Creek winery, some winery all the way from my adopted hometown, San Francisco. It was exquisite because of so many things going right, cannot pick out anything wrong.
The pours were extra generous. The wine itself was not that bad. I especially enjoyed their Chardonnay. There was no pressure to buy. Sometimes you get that feeling when you attend a wine tasting at some winery, they start to tell you where you can purchase it or how much it or ask "so how many bottles will you be getting?" There was no pressure here at all. They actually had delectable type hor's d'oeuvres to go with it, served by the most charming of servers. You could actually feed on these light nibbles and skip out a real dinner for awhile. And it was not cheeses and crackers, such nonsense childish food. It was actually specialty prepared food: Tuna tartare, clams and oysters type deal. Very friendly wine staff. very friendly. Then, the catch, it was absolutely free. Even the parking.
What's not to love about an event where you can get your drink on, eat, meet interesting people, chat about love of food and wine on a Friday evening.
This is the 2nd Friday in a row I've had an awesome time. Better not make it a habit.
Friday, March 27, 2009
life plans awry
So I got rejected by the Anderson Center for a one month residency. I had submitted ten of my most intimate poems. I had submitted them knowing that the odds of them being provocative enough to give me a chance to be accepted would be slim. But I did it anyway, just because. I wanted a chance to work on my writing. I was actually considering quitting my job for it. It sort of bums me out and I sort of expected it. It's one of those things where you expect bad news and brace yourself for it but you hope that God will shock you with good news. Apparently, not!
Life plan no. 1 - Try to be a lawyer. For some strange reason this often works out. If this had been some institute in Geneva, I would have been accepted.
Life plan no. 2 - Try to be a writer. For some inexplicable reason, this rarely works out. What the fuck is that? Why don't do they want me to be a writer? My life plan was to become a writer, but somehow, law seemed to work out and no one veer rejects a career as a lawyer to become a writer. It's unheard of.
I am not a good lawyer. I don't enjoy the law as much as I enjoy writing. The only reason I became a lawyer was so I could read all the juicy case law and marvel at the temerity of actual events. I want to give up legal work and become a writer. Why can't I do that? If Diablo Cody can win a fucking Academy, why can't I choose to become a writer and make a decent living doing it? Originality or not. It was worth a shot. I deserved a spot on that residency, 220 fucking applications or not. They should have been curious enough to give me a chance to join that panel.
Life plan no. 1 - Try to be a lawyer. For some strange reason this often works out. If this had been some institute in Geneva, I would have been accepted.
Life plan no. 2 - Try to be a writer. For some inexplicable reason, this rarely works out. What the fuck is that? Why don't do they want me to be a writer? My life plan was to become a writer, but somehow, law seemed to work out and no one veer rejects a career as a lawyer to become a writer. It's unheard of.
I am not a good lawyer. I don't enjoy the law as much as I enjoy writing. The only reason I became a lawyer was so I could read all the juicy case law and marvel at the temerity of actual events. I want to give up legal work and become a writer. Why can't I do that? If Diablo Cody can win a fucking Academy, why can't I choose to become a writer and make a decent living doing it? Originality or not. It was worth a shot. I deserved a spot on that residency, 220 fucking applications or not. They should have been curious enough to give me a chance to join that panel.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
enough with the females
I would much rather make friends with men than women.
Women are such dickheads. One minute they want to be your friend, next minute once a man comes along, or some jealousy creeps up, they just start to hyperventilate and the friendship is ruined. You make friends with these stupid co-workers at work and the weekend comes they don't even text you a simple note hi. But they spend the entire weekend texting some guy who is probably never going to respond. And they see you on Monday and act like you're their favorite person ever.
The weird thing is you never know where the jealousy or the unforeseen malice aforementioned is from, they just decide that hey, they just don't want to "do you" anymore. I've never experienced such fickleness with men.
With men, the only fear is that they would start to develop feelings for you that may or may not be returned. I can so deal with that. They like to have fun, go out drink like crazy, watch movies, they are always down for whatever. Women are just too fickle. Every time I've invited some girl out somewhere, you always have to make it seem like this is a "girl-date" (read: opposite of man-date) I am not gay, I just want to hang out and not have to sit at the bar or dance by myself. But their nerves get all riled up like you asked them out or something. And they feel pressured to say yes, but minutes before the date they text you to cancel, with some crazy excuse about their cat, or dog being ill.
I was watching old Sex and the City episodes last night and I couldn't help thinking that inasmuch as we love that show, it is so unrealistic, women cannot all be friends like that and evrything is "honky-doory" and they all hang out together at least once a week. Nope, it cannot happen, once a quarter is a myth.
It's just crazy female drama that upsets me. I used to have so many male friends, that's part of the reason why I never really got into a serious relationship in Nigeria. I had so many male friends that I didn't miss male company. We could sit together, discuss their relationships, complain about female folk, laugh and generally disturb the peace. Now, I don't even have that...at all. But if push came to shove and I had to choose one out of the other, I would choose males over females any day.
Women are such dickheads. One minute they want to be your friend, next minute once a man comes along, or some jealousy creeps up, they just start to hyperventilate and the friendship is ruined. You make friends with these stupid co-workers at work and the weekend comes they don't even text you a simple note hi. But they spend the entire weekend texting some guy who is probably never going to respond. And they see you on Monday and act like you're their favorite person ever.
The weird thing is you never know where the jealousy or the unforeseen malice aforementioned is from, they just decide that hey, they just don't want to "do you" anymore. I've never experienced such fickleness with men.
With men, the only fear is that they would start to develop feelings for you that may or may not be returned. I can so deal with that. They like to have fun, go out drink like crazy, watch movies, they are always down for whatever. Women are just too fickle. Every time I've invited some girl out somewhere, you always have to make it seem like this is a "girl-date" (read: opposite of man-date) I am not gay, I just want to hang out and not have to sit at the bar or dance by myself. But their nerves get all riled up like you asked them out or something. And they feel pressured to say yes, but minutes before the date they text you to cancel, with some crazy excuse about their cat, or dog being ill.
I was watching old Sex and the City episodes last night and I couldn't help thinking that inasmuch as we love that show, it is so unrealistic, women cannot all be friends like that and evrything is "honky-doory" and they all hang out together at least once a week. Nope, it cannot happen, once a quarter is a myth.
It's just crazy female drama that upsets me. I used to have so many male friends, that's part of the reason why I never really got into a serious relationship in Nigeria. I had so many male friends that I didn't miss male company. We could sit together, discuss their relationships, complain about female folk, laugh and generally disturb the peace. Now, I don't even have that...at all. But if push came to shove and I had to choose one out of the other, I would choose males over females any day.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Gasp...a good day exists
I had a very good day on Friday.
Since my good days are hard to find, I always like to write about them regardless of how few they may be.
First off, Friday's weather was just lovely. It started off a little nippy in the morning but unbeknownst to me (and the weather folks apparently) it turned out pretty good. I ducked out of work early to get my tattoo redone so already I was excited about that. A bit more excited than the tattooist (I refuse to call them artists, my personal opinion) but I suppose to him it must have felt like different day, different person, same ole tatt.
I also arrived a little earlier than my scheduled appointment and the ride gave me a chance to enjoy the warm weather caress my skin from my sunroof. Tattoo turned out great. Not too painful, not as arduous an experience as it was for the first one. The first time I had to sit there for almost 2 hours (for a simple 20 minute job) and inhale a mixture of stale blood and heated skin in their clammy office and have the receoptionist guy talk to me like I was some idiot and demand payment plus tip even before we got started. Gah, I could go on and on with all the things that went bad with this place. But I digress.
So back to Friday. It was over within an hour and some change from the moment I got there. I left there and on my way home bumped into this art gallery I had been meaning to go to for the longest time and in fact had planned to attend an opening a few hours later for a black and white exhibit. Good thing I bumped into it because this was about 8 miles from home. It would have hurt to go all the way home and have to come all the way back just to drink Trader Joe's wine with some cheese bits and pretend like this is some art opening in New York. Even better because the black and white photos were not that great and the gallery itself was minute, more like a carving, you had to hold your purse as you walked around so as not to knock around the other pieces of art.
From there, I proceeded to a nearby restaurant (they prefer the term: wine bar) to get some drinks to drown out the pain. I swear they rub you with stuff that makes it feel not so bad when they are working on you but the second the stuff wears out, instant pain, like a stinging pain. And at that time, alcohol is needed.
So two martinis and a delightful conversation with a couple of gay guys later, I was headed home. It was nice to leave work behind, enjoy a nice drive in the sun with no traffic, go get some ink (without any delay or stinky odors), to see some art, have a nice chat with total strangers, have decent conversations about art, food, wine, the city, life, etc with people as you sip martinis on a warm day just after you've gotten some fresh ink, what could be better than that? Perfect combination for a good day, I think.
Don't mind me I just celebrate the little stuff. But I will try that again, sometime this summer, duck out early and try to replay the events. May turn out the same, or better, or not at all. Who knows with these things?
Since my good days are hard to find, I always like to write about them regardless of how few they may be.
First off, Friday's weather was just lovely. It started off a little nippy in the morning but unbeknownst to me (and the weather folks apparently) it turned out pretty good. I ducked out of work early to get my tattoo redone so already I was excited about that. A bit more excited than the tattooist (I refuse to call them artists, my personal opinion) but I suppose to him it must have felt like different day, different person, same ole tatt.
I also arrived a little earlier than my scheduled appointment and the ride gave me a chance to enjoy the warm weather caress my skin from my sunroof. Tattoo turned out great. Not too painful, not as arduous an experience as it was for the first one. The first time I had to sit there for almost 2 hours (for a simple 20 minute job) and inhale a mixture of stale blood and heated skin in their clammy office and have the receoptionist guy talk to me like I was some idiot and demand payment plus tip even before we got started. Gah, I could go on and on with all the things that went bad with this place. But I digress.
So back to Friday. It was over within an hour and some change from the moment I got there. I left there and on my way home bumped into this art gallery I had been meaning to go to for the longest time and in fact had planned to attend an opening a few hours later for a black and white exhibit. Good thing I bumped into it because this was about 8 miles from home. It would have hurt to go all the way home and have to come all the way back just to drink Trader Joe's wine with some cheese bits and pretend like this is some art opening in New York. Even better because the black and white photos were not that great and the gallery itself was minute, more like a carving, you had to hold your purse as you walked around so as not to knock around the other pieces of art.
From there, I proceeded to a nearby restaurant (they prefer the term: wine bar) to get some drinks to drown out the pain. I swear they rub you with stuff that makes it feel not so bad when they are working on you but the second the stuff wears out, instant pain, like a stinging pain. And at that time, alcohol is needed.
So two martinis and a delightful conversation with a couple of gay guys later, I was headed home. It was nice to leave work behind, enjoy a nice drive in the sun with no traffic, go get some ink (without any delay or stinky odors), to see some art, have a nice chat with total strangers, have decent conversations about art, food, wine, the city, life, etc with people as you sip martinis on a warm day just after you've gotten some fresh ink, what could be better than that? Perfect combination for a good day, I think.
Don't mind me I just celebrate the little stuff. But I will try that again, sometime this summer, duck out early and try to replay the events. May turn out the same, or better, or not at all. Who knows with these things?
Gasp...A Good Day
I had a very good day on Friday.
Since my good days are hard to find, I always like to write about them regardless of how few they may be.
First off, Friday's weather was just lovely. It started off a little nippy in the morning but unbeknownst to me (and the weather folks apparently) it turned out pretty good. I ducked out of work early to get my tattoo redone so already I was excited about that. A bit more excited than the tattooist (I refuse to call them artists, my personal opinion) but I suppose to him it must have felt like different day, different person, same ole tatt.
I also arrived a little earlier than my scheduled appointment and the ride gave me a chance to experience the warm weather caress my skin from my sunroof. Tattoo turned out great. Not too painful, not as arduous an experience as it was for the first one. The first time I had to sit there for almost 2 hours (for a simple 20 minute job) and inhale a mixture of stale blood and heated skin in their clammy office and have the receptionist guy talk to me like I was some idiot and demand payment plus tip even before we got started. Gah, I could go on and on with all the things that went bad with this place. But I digress.
So back to Friday. It was over within an hour and some change from the moment I got there. I left there and on my way home bumped into this art gallery I had been meaning to go to for the longest time and in fact had planned to attend an opening a few hours later for a black and white exhibit. Good thing I bumped into it because this was about 8 miles from home. It would have hurt to go all the way home and have to come all the way back just to drink Trader Joe's wine with some cheese bits and pretend like this is some art opening in New York. Even better because the black and white photos were not that great and the gallery itself was minute, more like a carving, you had to hold your purse as you walked around so as not to knock around the other pieces of art.
From there, I proceeded to a nearby restaurant (they prefer the term: wine bar) to get some drinks to drown out the pain. I swear they rub you with stuff that makes it feel not so bad when they are working on you but the second the stuff wears out, instant pain, like a stinging pain. And at that time, alcohol is needed.
So two martinis and a delightful conversation with a couple of gay guys later, I was headed home. It was nice to leave work behind, enjoy a nice drive in the sun with no traffic, go get some ink (without any delay or stinky odors), to see some art, have a nice chat with total strangers, have decent conversations about art, food, wine, the city, life, etc with people as you sip martinis on a warm day just after you've gotten some fresh ink, what could be better than that? Perfect combination for a good day, I think.
Don't mind me I just celebrate the little stuff. But I will try that again, sometime this summer, duck out early and try to replay the events. May turn out the same, or better, or not at all. Who knows with these things?
Since my good days are hard to find, I always like to write about them regardless of how few they may be.
First off, Friday's weather was just lovely. It started off a little nippy in the morning but unbeknownst to me (and the weather folks apparently) it turned out pretty good. I ducked out of work early to get my tattoo redone so already I was excited about that. A bit more excited than the tattooist (I refuse to call them artists, my personal opinion) but I suppose to him it must have felt like different day, different person, same ole tatt.
I also arrived a little earlier than my scheduled appointment and the ride gave me a chance to experience the warm weather caress my skin from my sunroof. Tattoo turned out great. Not too painful, not as arduous an experience as it was for the first one. The first time I had to sit there for almost 2 hours (for a simple 20 minute job) and inhale a mixture of stale blood and heated skin in their clammy office and have the receptionist guy talk to me like I was some idiot and demand payment plus tip even before we got started. Gah, I could go on and on with all the things that went bad with this place. But I digress.
So back to Friday. It was over within an hour and some change from the moment I got there. I left there and on my way home bumped into this art gallery I had been meaning to go to for the longest time and in fact had planned to attend an opening a few hours later for a black and white exhibit. Good thing I bumped into it because this was about 8 miles from home. It would have hurt to go all the way home and have to come all the way back just to drink Trader Joe's wine with some cheese bits and pretend like this is some art opening in New York. Even better because the black and white photos were not that great and the gallery itself was minute, more like a carving, you had to hold your purse as you walked around so as not to knock around the other pieces of art.
From there, I proceeded to a nearby restaurant (they prefer the term: wine bar) to get some drinks to drown out the pain. I swear they rub you with stuff that makes it feel not so bad when they are working on you but the second the stuff wears out, instant pain, like a stinging pain. And at that time, alcohol is needed.
So two martinis and a delightful conversation with a couple of gay guys later, I was headed home. It was nice to leave work behind, enjoy a nice drive in the sun with no traffic, go get some ink (without any delay or stinky odors), to see some art, have a nice chat with total strangers, have decent conversations about art, food, wine, the city, life, etc with people as you sip martinis on a warm day just after you've gotten some fresh ink, what could be better than that? Perfect combination for a good day, I think.
Don't mind me I just celebrate the little stuff. But I will try that again, sometime this summer, duck out early and try to replay the events. May turn out the same, or better, or not at all. Who knows with these things?
Sunday, March 22, 2009
choices in life
Life is about choices and everyday I feel like we are given choices and we often o not make the wrong one.
I make the wrong ones. In everyday things like what to do, to where to live, to what company to work for, where to get a tattoo, what to get, my life is constantly faced with choices, and I, most of the time make the wrong one. And I keep wondering what was the other option, what if that option was the better one.
Today for example.
I wanted to eat brunch. Couldn't decide where to eat brunch. So I chose Starbucks. Not good. they didn't have the good muffins at this Starbucks and my latte was bland. Bad choice.
Then, what movie should I see. I saw Duplicity. Two hours of watching Julia Roberts act like some kind of super smart lady. Bad choice.
Then, what do I eat. By this time I was famished from no breakfast. Instead chose to drive to Buckhead instead of Midtown or Inman Park which is filled with breakfast places. But all the breakfast places had shrimp Benedicts or crawfish Benedicts. I really just wanted an English style breakfast, with eggs sunny side up and slices of toast halved with the tea cups of coffee. English style breakfast. How hard can that be? Everyone wants to put a spin on breakfast, make it Creole or Southern style or something style. I just want plain English style breakfast preferably in a place with a patio so I can get some sun. Huummmph!
I ended up going to Seasons 52. Spent an insane amount of money for food I didn't enjoy. It's dieters food. If I was on a strict diet, I wouldn't show up at a restaurant. I would cook some healthy shit at home. It was a waste of money, my time, my whole freaking day.
Once again, it was a choice of where to go, what to eat and I ended up picking the wrong thing, choosing the wrong restaurant, just basically making the wrong fucking decision, fucking up my life some more. It's the little decisions that define us. If I can't be lucky enough to choose the right place for lunch or the right movie to watch then, how can I trust myself my judgment enough to choose the right company, right profession, etc. How can I? Now I see clearly now why my life is fucked up.
Single's Decisions
Life is about choices and everyday I feel like we are given choices and we often or not, make the wrong one.
I make the wrong ones. In everyday things like what to do, to where to live, to what company to work for, where to get a tattoo, what to get, my life is constantly faced with choices, and I, most of the time make the wrong one. And I keep wondering what was the other option, what if that option was the better one?
Today for example.
I wanted to eat brunch. Couldn't decide where to eat #brunch. So I chose Starbucks. Not good. They didn't have the good muffins at this Starbucks and my latte was bland. Bad choice.
Then, what movie should I see? I saw Duplicity. Two hours of watching Julia Roberts act like some kind of super smart lady. Bad choice.
Then, what do I eat. By this time I was famished from no breakfast. Instead chose to drive to Buckhead instead of Midtown or Inman Park which is filled with breakfast places. But all the #breakfast places had shrimp Benedicts or crawfish Benedicts. I really just wanted an English style breakfast, with eggs sunny side up and slices of toast halved with the tea cups of coffee. English style breakfast. How hard can that be? Everyone wants to put a spin on breakfast, make it Creole or Southern style or something style. I just want plain English style breakfast preferably in a place with a patio so I can get some sun. Huummmph!
I ended up going to Seasons 52. Spent an insane amount of money for food I didn't enjoy. It's dieters food. If I was on a strict diet, I wouldn't show up at a restaurant. I would cook some healthy crap at home. It was a waste of money, my time, my whole freaking day!
Once again, it was a choice of where to go, what to eat and I ended up picking the wrong thing, choosing the wrong restaurant, just basically making the wrong fucking decision, fucking up my life some more. It's the little decisions that define us. If I can't be lucky enough to choose the right place for lunch or the right movie to watch then, how can I trust myself my judgment enough to choose the right company, right profession, etc. How can I?
Friday, March 20, 2009
Meaningful permanent art...
I finally got my tattoo redone by some other artist.
I know I never even mentioned the first tattoo on here. So that's what I've been up to: researching tattoos and tattoo artists. In between hating the world, and all things me, I finalized one final life plan which was to get a tattoo to cover up some ghastly veins on my right thigh. As the 2nd tattoo artist so eloquently put it, that is the ickiest spot to get a tattoo. I'm like you don't say.
The first time, I thought, okay no need for research, went by a couple of places, did a price check to get a few ladybugs lining the veins. The place I finally chose decided to dick me around on the day of so I went to the first place I could pull up on Google that had the least amount of appointments on a Saturday afternoon. And I got the one lone woman in the tattoo parlor to ink me and guess what, she succeeded in fucking up the ladybugs, "How do you fuck up ladybugs?"
So I had to wait 3 weeks for it to heal and get a flower to add to the ladybugs (because really what else can you add to ladybugs), my least favorite image to cover it up. As one of the artists I consulted with for cover up round 2 said, "No one can fuck up a flower, an image, a face, an angel, yeah, but a flower, everyone can draw that. How badly can a flower look?" Well, then, so a flower it is.
So I saw this guest artist visiting this Atlanta studio that had this awesome Heath Ledger/Joker tattoo in his portfolio. A petite tatted up artist by the name of Timmy Barnes. He was rather sweet, gentle with the needles but not very chatty which really bummed me out. He had this concentrated gaze as he worked, almost like a child. Normally I would prefer if you don't speak. I have hairdressers, manicurists, etc that insist on speaking instead of working and then they proceed to ask you questions they really shouldn't be asking you. Don't speak to me, just get my fucking hair done, please. But this time around I would have liked him to speak because it would have helped with the pain, you know. It's like seeing a doctor who is professional, keeps it formal, does a good job but really doesn't give a shit. He wants to make you feel better and if that means a dozen painful shots, so be it. "So the shots hurt...hmmm...like I give a shit."
But my tatt is nice. It's a blue flower (what real flower is blue, really?) but it's nice. I like it. Probably get sick of it like every other thing in my life.
Now I know how people get addicted to it. It's like, "Are you hurting, angry, bitter, try getting some artwork done, the pain of the needles will make you feel better." Now I am thinking of what I want to do next. Why not line up my entire right thigh with cute little flowers?
I know I never even mentioned the first tattoo on here. So that's what I've been up to: researching tattoos and tattoo artists. In between hating the world, and all things me, I finalized one final life plan which was to get a tattoo to cover up some ghastly veins on my right thigh. As the 2nd tattoo artist so eloquently put it, that is the ickiest spot to get a tattoo. I'm like you don't say.
The first time, I thought, okay no need for research, went by a couple of places, did a price check to get a few ladybugs lining the veins. The place I finally chose decided to dick me around on the day of so I went to the first place I could pull up on Google that had the least amount of appointments on a Saturday afternoon. And I got the one lone woman in the tattoo parlor to ink me and guess what, she succeeded in fucking up the ladybugs, "How do you fuck up ladybugs?"
So I had to wait 3 weeks for it to heal and get a flower to add to the ladybugs (because really what else can you add to ladybugs), my least favorite image to cover it up. As one of the artists I consulted with for cover up round 2 said, "No one can fuck up a flower, an image, a face, an angel, yeah, but a flower, everyone can draw that. How badly can a flower look?" Well, then, so a flower it is.
So I saw this guest artist visiting this Atlanta studio that had this awesome Heath Ledger/Joker tattoo in his portfolio. A petite tatted up artist by the name of Timmy Barnes. He was rather sweet, gentle with the needles but not very chatty which really bummed me out. He had this concentrated gaze as he worked, almost like a child. Normally I would prefer if you don't speak. I have hairdressers, manicurists, etc that insist on speaking instead of working and then they proceed to ask you questions they really shouldn't be asking you. Don't speak to me, just get my fucking hair done, please. But this time around I would have liked him to speak because it would have helped with the pain, you know. It's like seeing a doctor who is professional, keeps it formal, does a good job but really doesn't give a shit. He wants to make you feel better and if that means a dozen painful shots, so be it. "So the shots hurt...hmmm...like I give a shit."
But my tatt is nice. It's a blue flower (what real flower is blue, really?) but it's nice. I like it. Probably get sick of it like every other thing in my life.
Now I know how people get addicted to it. It's like, "Are you hurting, angry, bitter, try getting some artwork done, the pain of the needles will make you feel better." Now I am thinking of what I want to do next. Why not line up my entire right thigh with cute little flowers?
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Daydreamer…Adele
Saw my girl Adele last night at the Variety Playhouse. It was an out of body experience almost for me. I've been listening to her for about a year now, and I've responded to every song that she has on that album, I have even written some of my deepest entries based on the beat of some of her very profound lyrics. If this was in my writing days - which I am hoping to get back to - I would have written many a stories just thriving on the beat of her sound, she has that thing about it, just like I wrote stories based on Jill Scott. So to listen to her and to feel all those emotions going through me every time I listen to her and to have her sing it to me in person, it was just phenomenal. I almost cried.
She was so excited to be there, to see all of us there. Just like I was excited to finally hear those songs in person. I kept wondering that I wish I had been there when she did even smaller venues, when she did the songs stripped down, when she was still in the discovery phase, even before the Grammy. Though she did recount how excited she was at the Grammys and her 2 triumphs, but I just wish I had been there before it all.
That being said my only gripe about the show was that. I would have liked to hear an extended concert version of the music. Something a little stripped down, ad-libbed (even though she did change a few words here and there) but something spontaneous and entertainment driven. Artists always sing a different version of their songs on tour, they add riffs here and there and just get the audience to chime in every now and again, have a little break down section, just something different, a play on the music. She sang it just as it was on the CD, straight and unadulterated (except for a few words here and there) but the notes sounded exactly the same.
That was a bummer for me.
But I still enjoyed myself and...I almost cried.
Trip to Adele on St. Paddy's Day
Saw my girl Adele last night (St. Paddy's Day) at the Variety Playhouse. It was almost an out of body experience for me. I've been listening to her for about a year now, and I've responded to every song that she has on that album, I have even written some of my deepest posts based on the melancholic rhythm and in response to some of her very profound lyrics. If this was in my writing days - which I am hoping to get back to - I would have written many a stories just feeding of the energy of her music, just like I've written many stories inspired by the music of Ms. Jill Scott. So to listen to her and to feel all those emotions going through me every time I listen to her and to have her sing it to me live, it was just phenomenal. I almost cried.
She was so excited to be there, to see all of us there. Just like I was excited to finally hear those songs in person. I kept wondering that I wish I had been there when she did even smaller venues, when she did the songs stripped down, when she was still in the discovery phase, even before the Grammy. Though she did recount how excited she was at the Grammys and her 2 triumphs, but I just wish I had been there before it all.
That being said my only gripe about the show was that. I would have liked to hear an extended concert version of the music. Something a little stripped down, ad-libbed a little more (even though she did change a few words here and there) but something spontaneous and entertainment driven. Artists always sing a different version of their songs on tour, they add riffs here and there and just get the audience to chime in every now and again, have a little breakdown section, just something different, a play on the music. She sang it just as it was on the record, straight and unadulterated (except for a few words here and there) the notes sounded exactly the same, perfectly sung but not different.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
the green eyed giant
The greed that permeated through Nigeria and hindered our progress, civilization, growth and development has somehow made its way abroad and filtered through to America, and if I may say so, is somewhat the cause of the general economic malaise. Except that in the case of Nigeria, the unjust enrichment occurred with government staff, they personally enriched themselves and their families with government funds that were supposed be used to build a better Nigeria. But in America, it is just the greed of a few and the quest to remain the ever so wealthy, affluent and powerful member of society. Why else would there be Madoffs, AIG execs, and the need to trim executive pay, to name a few. Why else, what else could be causing this influx of greed?
It's just as well that I would talk about greed on this ever so green day, St. Patrick's Day.
It's just as well that I would talk about greed on this ever so green day, St. Patrick's Day.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Negativity be gone...
I don't know what's wrong with me.
I promised not to think negative thoughts during Lent, but occasionally they do cross my mind.
My co-worker seems to think that because the economy is bad you should not think of ways to advance yourself. I seem to think the opposite. I think maybe it's time you restructure yourself and find a way to make yourself better professionally, maybe go back to school, advance your skill because the market is tougher with more people in the marketplace so this may be a good time to sharpen your skill. This is what I told her. Instead she responsded that, you cannot sharpen your skill when you are at a current job you can only do that if you've been laid off. We can only sit tight and wait out the economy. I disagreed but I didn't air my opinion.
Why didn't I? I was already thinking negatively at that point, thinking, not many people are ambitious and if someone is not as ambitious as you are, you really shouldn't be having these types of career-oriented conversations with them.
But the reality of the matter is, people like me that fight hard, work hard, endeavor to stay ahead of the game, we don't get to where we want to thus far, and people like her that are lackadaisical about their careers, their careers just get to work out. Maybe it's part of God telling us not to worry and Ne will take care of everything, or just sheer luck. But me, I run around, try my best, do my best and I still do not get as far as I have hoped. But others just get there by chance.
However, that is a negative thought and I'd promised not to do those anymore, remember.
I promised not to think negative thoughts during Lent, but occasionally they do cross my mind.
My co-worker seems to think that because the economy is bad you should not think of ways to advance yourself. I seem to think the opposite. I think maybe it's time you restructure yourself and find a way to make yourself better professionally, maybe go back to school, advance your skill because the market is tougher with more people in the marketplace so this may be a good time to sharpen your skill. This is what I told her. Instead she responsded that, you cannot sharpen your skill when you are at a current job you can only do that if you've been laid off. We can only sit tight and wait out the economy. I disagreed but I didn't air my opinion.
Why didn't I? I was already thinking negatively at that point, thinking, not many people are ambitious and if someone is not as ambitious as you are, you really shouldn't be having these types of career-oriented conversations with them.
But the reality of the matter is, people like me that fight hard, work hard, endeavor to stay ahead of the game, we don't get to where we want to thus far, and people like her that are lackadaisical about their careers, their careers just get to work out. Maybe it's part of God telling us not to worry and Ne will take care of everything, or just sheer luck. But me, I run around, try my best, do my best and I still do not get as far as I have hoped. But others just get there by chance.
However, that is a negative thought and I'd promised not to do those anymore, remember.
Friday, March 06, 2009
Lot to say
At night, I think I have something to say, I have a lot of random thoughts going through my mind, but in the morning, or as soon as I open up the blog page, it escapes my mind, or I am just too lazy to compile the thoughts into one coherent passage. If I venture to write them down they would just make up random little sentences. Some of which are:
a) At times, I am thankful that I am single especially so when I am aware of the travails that can be inherent in a relationship, such as Rihanna's. I would hate to be beat up like that. I would hate someone whom I have termed my lover to turn round and beat me REPEATEDLY. I just listen to such stories and say, I am glad I am single so I don't have to deal with that. What The Fuck?!
I keep thinking, "Why would she let him beat her like that?" and "Why the Fuck would she want to go back to that?"
Forgiveness is good. But do not go back to that. He may change. We hope he changes. But we also hope she is not there to find out if he does or not.
But then again, why do I care? Only because she represents every woman who feels their life is over once they are single and they would rather stay in meaningless relationships represented by abuse or other ghastly acts such as self-neglect and infidelity, than stay, without hassles, struggling with their bills, dealing with an eternal loneliness but innate peace...like me.
b) On the flip side, at times when I struggle to balance my checkbook, or pay for vacations myself, I wonder, this would be so much easier (I think?) if I were to do this with someone else. It's like put an end to this already. But then again, if I got a pay raise, or THE job were to occur, the bills may not be so astounding. I don't know.
c) The world view on the dismal economy doesn't seem to be lightening up. The economy itself doesn't seem to lightening up. I keep wondering where did all the money go? One minute the world was fine, and slowly it began with housing and subprimes, and rising fuel costs, and before we knew it, the whole freaking world is on its ass wondering, "Where did all the money go?"
It's hard enough to deal with your internal problems, to live with your hopes and dreams and live in hope, even if it's just a flicker of it, that one day they will come through, but when there is a human race capsize, where is that hope to go?
d) I have come to accept why I do not have friends. I don't think I have met anyone like myself. I have different world views, I enjoy different things, I love to experience different things. This is not the same for most people.
On a sunny weekend what do I think of doing? Sitting out on the patio of some restaurant drinking the coldest beer possible. on certain week nights what do I feel like doing, going to listen to live music. Anything at all, as long as it's live. It could be off-key, boring acoustic nonsense, but it's live and that's all that matters.
When I go to vacation what do I feel like doing in the new city - visiting their museums. Spend a day at the museums and then walk the streets exploring the local culture (if it exists and if I am visiting that place, surely it exists.)
These are not traits that people readily enjoy. I haven't met anyone like me, and to a certain extent, I would be hard pressed to discover someone like me. So I have come to enjoying myself and taking and enjoying each day with myself as best as I can.
e) That being said, my phone doesn't ring. I think I have come into this year devoid of prospects, which is sad considering how optimistic I was when I went into it. This is like the driest of the spells, the roughest of the patches and the quietest of the times. I have this elaborate phone rate plan with text messaging capabilities, but no one calls me. I won't dwell on that. It will get better.
a) At times, I am thankful that I am single especially so when I am aware of the travails that can be inherent in a relationship, such as Rihanna's. I would hate to be beat up like that. I would hate someone whom I have termed my lover to turn round and beat me REPEATEDLY. I just listen to such stories and say, I am glad I am single so I don't have to deal with that. What The Fuck?!
I keep thinking, "Why would she let him beat her like that?" and "Why the Fuck would she want to go back to that?"
Forgiveness is good. But do not go back to that. He may change. We hope he changes. But we also hope she is not there to find out if he does or not.
But then again, why do I care? Only because she represents every woman who feels their life is over once they are single and they would rather stay in meaningless relationships represented by abuse or other ghastly acts such as self-neglect and infidelity, than stay, without hassles, struggling with their bills, dealing with an eternal loneliness but innate peace...like me.
b) On the flip side, at times when I struggle to balance my checkbook, or pay for vacations myself, I wonder, this would be so much easier (I think?) if I were to do this with someone else. It's like put an end to this already. But then again, if I got a pay raise, or THE job were to occur, the bills may not be so astounding. I don't know.
c) The world view on the dismal economy doesn't seem to be lightening up. The economy itself doesn't seem to lightening up. I keep wondering where did all the money go? One minute the world was fine, and slowly it began with housing and subprimes, and rising fuel costs, and before we knew it, the whole freaking world is on its ass wondering, "Where did all the money go?"
It's hard enough to deal with your internal problems, to live with your hopes and dreams and live in hope, even if it's just a flicker of it, that one day they will come through, but when there is a human race capsize, where is that hope to go?
d) I have come to accept why I do not have friends. I don't think I have met anyone like myself. I have different world views, I enjoy different things, I love to experience different things. This is not the same for most people.
On a sunny weekend what do I think of doing? Sitting out on the patio of some restaurant drinking the coldest beer possible. on certain week nights what do I feel like doing, going to listen to live music. Anything at all, as long as it's live. It could be off-key, boring acoustic nonsense, but it's live and that's all that matters.
When I go to vacation what do I feel like doing in the new city - visiting their museums. Spend a day at the museums and then walk the streets exploring the local culture (if it exists and if I am visiting that place, surely it exists.)
These are not traits that people readily enjoy. I haven't met anyone like me, and to a certain extent, I would be hard pressed to discover someone like me. So I have come to enjoying myself and taking and enjoying each day with myself as best as I can.
e) That being said, my phone doesn't ring. I think I have come into this year devoid of prospects, which is sad considering how optimistic I was when I went into it. This is like the driest of the spells, the roughest of the patches and the quietest of the times. I have this elaborate phone rate plan with text messaging capabilities, but no one calls me. I won't dwell on that. It will get better.
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
In reiteration
To reiterate my point below, right person, right spark, can also be classified as "following your heart", or "Following the trail of chemistry" or basically, "the quintessential search for passion." It could be any number of things, but once it's not there, the person could be the most eligible bachelor there is, but you could just not be feeling him.
After watching the shocking The Bachelor Season Finale, it's sort of solidified my piece below - Right person, right spark, is everywhere even on TV, even on prime time, even after a proposal, even with so much shame.
There are other things crossing my mind, but this is it for now.
After watching the shocking The Bachelor Season Finale, it's sort of solidified my piece below - Right person, right spark, is everywhere even on TV, even on prime time, even after a proposal, even with so much shame.
There are other things crossing my mind, but this is it for now.
Sunday, March 01, 2009
scribbles on a paper napkin
What is with men? It's like a riddle, that cannot be solved and we are all guessing who's the first to solve it.
It really is all about what feels good to you. If you meet someone, he might not be feeling you, he might be feeling someone else, who is, unfortunately, not feeling him?
In the last month, I've seen 2 movies that have reiterated my world view on men (and for them probably women) - He's Just Not That Into You and Two Lovers.
In the end, it's all about that spark, that thing that makes it feel right. I've always given into that spark and an internal list of attributes of what I want in a man. If that spark is there, it trumps everything. I may have a list of what I want in my ideal man, for example, non-smoker, and then I meet a chain smoker whom I am so attracted to, and I just chuck that attribute and give in. You just go with the spark, forsaking all else, the list, everything. That is it. You don't waste time trying to figure it out, what seems practical, and let your head give in, you just go with it, and ask questions later.
That being said, most times, when you're feeling someone and he's not feeling you back, for me I start to internalize it and wonder what did I do wrong, is it me? Nope, it's not. It's more of that spark, and sometimes, he might be feeling someone who is not feeling him as well. It's an endless vicious circle, that eventually ends up with "right person, right spark." Oh, but it takes forever to work itself out. And for impatient folks like me, forever is quite a while. And in between that forever moment, you just might have lost your mind, or lost hope or lost all faith in the belief that right person, right spark exists, and between you and I, something in me actually doesn't truly believe that it does. There's compromise, there's right moment, there's timing, there's great family, there's good upbringing, there's opportunity, there's fuck it I don't care anymore, there's every frustrating thing in between, but not quite right person, right spark. There's just enough bullshit to make you loose your nerve and in your faith in love and life. But there's never that it that just puts it all together.
That's just it. That's all.
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