Obviously I don’t work in the field of music. And still it seemed to completely overcome my life this past week. I worked on my first little twitterview, which was nothing more than some back and forth Q&A’s with an artist by the name of Quanstar. And though it was only maybe 7 or 8 questions, I still felt the need to blog it. And so I did. I wrote it over several times before posting it. Wanting to sound informed, and needing to give it purpose, I had to figure out a write around for the conversation. Tie it back to something bigger than my own curiosity; ‘what is happening to the culture of hip-hop’. I finally finished it mid week, and the sense of accomplishment was overwhelming. Again – no big deal or anything, but still huge for me.
You see I daydream about writing. Besides art classes in high school, English was my best subject. And not so much literature, though I loved to read, it was composition that was more my thing. I loved to write. Old coworkers were always taken aback to discover that I had gone back to school for a degree in Communications/Journalism (though not finished), instead of Fashion Merchandising. But why would I pay an institution to teach me what I was already being paid to do? I always thought that when I retired I would contribute to a fabulous magazine as a fashion journalist. I am slowly beginning to rethink that. And to be sure about my second thoughts I have decided to do some research. Finding and downloading albums by those considered to be the forefathers of hip-hop, The Last Poets and Gil Scott-Heron. If you can’t tell my genre of obsession is hip-hop. I have always been drawn to it. I am sure it has something to do with the images of a life I never experienced as a black person in America, living in the suburbs of Southern California most my life, that so intrigued me. There was a level off truth to be found in the culture of hip-hop that was not present in the peach track home developments of my neighborhood. I have decided to journal the experience of this journey through the life of hip-hop and will probably be blogging it as well shortly.; until then though we should probably get back to the now.
I had fallen miserably sick this past week. You know when you get the little tickle in the back of your throat, the precursor to something that is going to be anything but fun in the days to come? Yeah well I had the little tickle Monday morning. It had returned from two weeks prior when I thought I had killed it with a simple cup of tea (I later found out that He had spiked the tea with a shot of tequila which had provided the delusion of being cured). Of course I am the office martyr. I’m the one who refuses to stay home, spreading my germs, as a consequence, all over everyone and anything I come in contact with. Refusing, for whatever reason, to believe that my sick time is available for me to use at whatever time I may fall ill. It can't help that I sit directly under a vent that consistently pumps out sub zero air all day. It was not a pretty week. I felt awful day after day, getting worse still, but with far too much work to get done. The getting worse part was the worst part; especially after getting an email on Thursday morning that I was required to now attend the weekly business review meeting every Friday effective immediately. Perfect. Another meeting to attend. I swear I go to so many meetings that I have probably a total of 16 hours in a 40 hour week to get actual work done! The silver lining I suppose, as it was pointed out as such, was that this would be good exposure for me. And that at least was true.
The best part of the week by far, was when my cousin decided on a whim to come up Thursday night. She is visiting from Seattle for the summer and we had been so anxious to catch up. Hilarious, joyous, heartwarming, comical, entertaining, all could be used to describe the few hours we spent together. Funny how more often than not, you really don’t have to go anywhere to have a good time, when you’re with people you love, who loves you back. I am always surprised to re-discover that I am 8 years her senior. God I am getting old. It was midnight before she decided to head out. Making plans to go shoe shopping, so that she would never again make the mistake of wearing the Tracy Reece dress I gave her (bronze in color) with black flat sandals again, for Saturday afternoon. Perfect, because shoe shopping is one of my favorite things to do. It never matters how out of shape you are, or feel you are, a great pair of pumps always look good on your feet, and pump your esteem by like 100 points instantly. New shoes are better than ice cream after a break up, the perfect finishing touch to complete an amazing look, the best reward for yourself after a job well done etc. So I was excited for Saturday as soon as the plans were set not knowing that those plans were going to fall through the next day. At least this time she is here for longer than a week.
Anyway Friday was horrible, the worst day of the entire week. I woke up, tried to do my hair, and then sent my boss an email calling out, and climbed back into bed. I think I have wisdom's coming in because now, for no other apparent reason, my gums are completely raw. Did I go to the dentist you ask? Absolutely not. I am terrified of the dentist. A fear acquired after visiting about a year ago and discovering that I needed not one but two root canals. I have decided of course to bear through the pain for as long as possible. I know it’s not smart, but it is what it is. It makes sense though that my ear is now in pain. As long as it makes sense I am okay. I can live with the rest. I hope. I did start painting though. I’m really excited. If it turns out well, I will post it. If not, it will be like it never was.
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