Chronicles of Life … R&B music appreciation 101

Just a few of my random thoughts on some R&B songs on the ipod … There is a choreographer inside of me just waiting to get out. I have choreographed two songs from the Sasha Fierce album, “Radio,” the hip hop dance, and “Sweet Dreams,” the modern dance. Choreography is for three and up to five people. The problem is the moves are only inside my head. However, I did freestyle a Michael Jackson tribute to “Beat It.” It put a smile of my friends’ faces. Although, I think they were laughing at me, not with me … Whitney Houston is back. Granted, I wasn’t really feeling “I look to you,” but I do like “Million Dollar Bill.” My only question is can she still sing live? The juror’s out on that one … I have mixed emotions about the “Sweet Dreams” video by Beyonce. I didn’t really like it at first. It doesn’t make sense. Then again when do dreams ever make sense? I think I just wanted more choreography and less randomness. She should have used my choreography … Sometimes I think I could be a music video director. There are two songs on Chrisette Michele’s new album “Epiphany” that I have created videos for (in my mind), “Notebook” and “All I ever think about is you.” Chrisette, have your people call my people. … Speaking of Chrisette Michele’s album, LUVS IT. Absolutely luvs it! I can listen to that bad boy all the way through. Very few albums (Ryan Leslie’s debut album, Beyonce’s Sasha Fierce and John Legend’s Revolver) even get that distinction. The first time I heard Epiphany, I wasn’t interested. Then I actually opened my ears and was blown away. Sometimes albums have to grow on me … Dear Mario, why are you asking a stupid question in your song? Of course a woman would want to break up if you’re cheating on her. *Side note: For those that don’t know, Mario has a new song called “Break up” and it asks over and over, “When I’m loving you, why would you want to break up?” However, he blatantly talks about how he cheats in the verses. This is a no brainer.* Don’t ask stupid questions when you already know the answer. Signed Toni … At nearly 25 years of age, I am still not mature enough to listen to R. Kelly’s new song “Number One” which features Miss Keri, Baby. It’s just too much for me. Somebody will be conceived because of that song … Keri Hilson is everywhere, like on every song. I didn’t really like her at first, but she has indeed grown on me. The girl has nice chops … Drizzy aka Drake aka Wheelchair Jimmy has also grown on me. I heard a song he did over Goapele’s “Closer” and had to give him props … I am happily single, but sometimes certain songs make me want to be in a relationship so I can sing all the lovey dovey kiss kiss foolishness. But wait it gets better. Other songs make me want to have a bad break up so I can relate to the heart break hotel sadness. I just can’t relate either way it goes … Dear Mary J. Blige, I love the new song “The one.” Keep it up. Signed Toni … I love songs that touch my soul, not because of the lyrics or the voice but because of the music. Examples include “Irina” by Ryan Leslie, “T.O.N.Y.” by Solange and “Trust” by Keyshia Cole feat. Monica.

Chronicles of Life … The sum of all fears

I have really random fears. I probably need therapy to deal with them. Unfortunately, I can’t afford it. This chronicle will have to be a substitute.

1.Clowns. I used to like clowns, but one night I sneaked out of bed and looked at “Killer Clowns From Outer Space.” It started the fear. Later I read the book and watched the move “It” by Stephen King. My fear of clowns was further fueled my. I don’t even like Ronald McDonald. Happy Meals are a ploy to get you addicted to McDonald’s. Next thing you know it, you’re morbidly obese. Sheer coincidence that a clown is the mascot for McDonald’s? I think not.
2.Losing my teeth. I absolutely love my teeth. They’re not perfect, but I do have a really nice, straight and white set. I didn’t wear braces or have to use teeth whiteners. I take good care of my teeth by brushing several times a day and visiting the dentist every six months. People always compliment me on my teeth. Such would not be the case if I was Toothless Toni.
3.Crossing the street/ getting hit by a car. If you want to see me break out into a sweat, just watch me cross the street. It’s always a nerve racking experience. I think it’s because my daddy got hit by a car when I was in middle school. He was jogging on the sidewalk, but a drunk driver hit him and dragged him down the street. Since then I have had a deep fear of getting hit by a car. And how do most people get hit? By crossing the street.
4.Choking on pills/tic tacs. I once choked on a tic tac in college. I was talking to a friend when suddenly a tic tac got lodged in my throat. Tic tacs and pills are about the same size. If I can choke on a tic tac, then I can choke on a pill. I tend to crush my pills now and take them with tea, or just chew on them. Yeah it’s disgusting, but at least I don’t choke.
5.Flying on airplanes/ walking up stairs. I don’t have a fear of heights, because I’ll hop on a roller coaster in a minute. However, airplanes and stairs make me nervous. There is just something about being high off the ground in an airplane that makes me want to cry. And I have actually fallen up stairs. Don’t ask me how. I’m nervous that one day I will fall up the stairs bad enough to knock out my teeth.
6.Biting my tongue off. I have a problem with biting my tongue when I chew. It happens quite a bit. Twice I have bit a chunk of my tongue. Not off, but enough to have it bleed profusely for several minutes. It’s almost enough to make me want to stop eating. But a girl’s got to live. It’s only a matter of time before I have no tongue.
Franklin D. Roosevelt said, “There is nothing to fear but fear itself.” I beg to differ. There is a lot to fear.
The only thing I will say is don’t let your fears completely control your life. I still go to the circus. I cross the street everyday for work. And of course I eat.
However, each activity associated with one of my fears causes a chill in my spine.

A Lake City Chronicle ... The Ballad of Ink Face

O the ink ain’t on my dresses
Or caught up in my tresses
It’s all over my face, o can’t you see
I thought I wiped it off now
But it stayed on anyhow
So when folks mention Ink Face that is me

Just call me Ink Face. That might be my new nickname.
I had the unfortunate pleasure of wearing ink all over my face
recently. I don’t know when or how the ink got on my face. What I do
know is it was there, and it was a lot.
Sometimes if I pause when writing, I’ll turn my pen up and
inadvertently mark up my face. It’s usually a line here or there.
Most times I catch it, but such was not the case Monday night.
I had been writing a lot of information down. When I finished, I went
to talk to some people.
While talking to someone, I noticed out the corner of my eye a man
wiping his face and looking at me.
At first I merely thought he was awestruck by my beauty. Then I
realized he was trying to tell me something was on my face.
Immediately I thought he meant boogers. If only that was the case.
He finally said, “You have ink on your face.”
Well silly me thought a simple wipe here or there would remove it. I
didn’t even make a dent.
After my quick wipe, I continued my conversation and talked to several
other people.
It wasn’t until after I left the crowd, went to the bathroom and
looked in the mirror I saw the extent of the ink on my face. It looked
like a big glob of ink snot was coming out of my nose!
Why didn’t anyone tell me just how bad it was?
They all kept talking to me politely and never even mentioned it. I
can’t be mad though. I probably wouldn’t have said anything either.
I’ve seen men with their zippers down, women with lipstick on their
teeth and cracks showing when people bend other. I don’t say a word.
It’s not because I’m mean and want them to be embarrassed. I just
don’t know how to say it without causing unnecessary embarrassment.
“They’ll figure it out,” I think. So mum’s the word
However, after being the one in an embarrassing situation, I’m not so
sure that’s the best logic anymore.
There might be some embarrassment, but it’ll pass. Embarrassment after
the fact is 10 times worse.
Hopefully everyone forgets my ink ordeal. If not, well I’m worried all
the people I talked to are going to call me Ink Face.
I for one will not stand for it. I am packing up and moving to Alaska.
OK that’s a bit extreme.
I’ll just use pencils from now on. The worst I can do with a pencil is
poke myself. I’d rather sport a Spiderman Band-Aid anyway.

A Lake City Chronicle ... When nature attacks

There is a Teenage Mutant Ninja Lizard in my house! I might have a nervous breakdown.
Unfortunately, I now live next to the forest. Seriously, lions, tigers and bears are probably ready to grab me for a meal. And don’t even get me started on how I think Jason, Jack the Ripper or Michael Myers is in hiding in the forest too.
Worst of all there are reptiles: creepy, crawly, scaly reptiles. I think I may have just made an enemy with one.
A lizard came into my apartment today.
I was minding my own business about to leave for work, when a little one immediately came in. It just ran in like it lived here. Call me a punk all you want, but all reptiles make me squeamish, no matter the size.
Immediately I began to scream.
I tried to swat it back out, but I only managed to cut off its tail. At least that’s what I thought it was wiggling around. For all I know a baby snake could have made its way in too.
The lizard did at one point almost go out the door. But then it decided to hide out in the crack between the door and wall. Of course the screaming started again. Next thing I knew, it was back inside.
It finally came to the point of do or die, me or it, now or never. So I manned up and grabbed my ant/roach spray and covered the lizard in the toxic chemicals.
You should have seen it squirm and such. The whole ordeal made me nauseous.
Once the deed was done, I continued my journey to work and decided to get rid of the body when I came home later in the evening.
I called my daddy to tell him of my epic battle. He was not very sympathetic to my plight.
At least the dreaded lizard was dead. I was the victor.
Honestly I sort of felt bad about killing. I probably could have figured out a better method of removing the lizard had I not been so hysterical (PETA please don’t come after me with pitchforks).
But what’s done was done. The lizard was no more.
Or so I thought.
Tonight when I came home from work, I looked in the exact same spot where the lizard and its tail was. And what did I see? NOTHING!
I DON’T KNOW WHERE THE LIZARD IS! IT IS COMPLETELY GONE FROM THE SPOT WITH NO FORWARDING ADDRESS.
I have looked everywhere. There is no trace of a dead lizard.
I called my daddy again and he said there is no need to worry. Lizards are harmless.
That’s easy for him to say. He’s not the one with a lizard, and a potentially mutated one at that.
Part of me is relieved that I didn’t kill it. The other part is about to pee on itself from fear.
That lizard is probably hiding somewhere thinking evil thoughts about me. So now I’m sitting here afraid that a 10-foot-tall mutated lizard is going to grab me out of bed tonight.
I for one will be sleeping with both eyes open, a blunt object and 911 on speed dial.

Chronicles of Life ... lips do lie

Don’t let the moving lips fool you. I DO NOT talk to myself. I merely think aloud.
Thinking aloud is easily confused with talking to yourself. However, there is a slight difference between the two. You have to answer back to talk to yourself.
If you say something aloud but don't respond or hold a conversation with yourself, then it's OK. You're clearly not talking to yourself.
At least that's my story and I'm sticking to it.
I have no qualms about thinking aloud, but I have noticed with increasing alarm that I do it quite a bit. I do it at work, at home, in the car, in public, wherever, whenever, whyever.
My coworkers notice me thinking aloud all the time. They usually think I’m talking to them. Then they just shrug me off as talking to myself.
To the casual observer, it would appear that I am talking to myself.
Well, I do not have dialogues with myself. Of course, no one probably believes me, but it is indeed the truth.
Sure I mutter about this and that aloud, but I don't go off into a full blown conversation.
The problem is I think aloud so much I tend to forget people are around. I'm just waiting on the day for everyone to start pointing and calling me the crazy lady.
Maybe I need to get a bluetooth so I can just act like I'm on the phone when I'm talking aloud. I used to look at people out the side of my eye when I thought they were having a conversation of one. Then I noticed the bluetooth. I could sport one, and everybody would be none the wiser about me talking aloud.
Or wouldn't it be cool if I could wear an earpiece like the secret service? Those that stared hard enough and saw the earpiece would think I'm like a spy or something. Just call me agent 007.5.
Better yet, I might just learn how to be a ventriloquist, and then my voice could project from someone else. No more crazy stares at me. I'll carry around a dummy named Mortimer and show off my skills.
OK in all honesty, I'm not doing any of the above. I know I'll just keep thinking aloud. I do it too much to stop. I'm not sure I even want to.
I'm comfortable thinking aloud. The rest of the world will just have to deal with it.
We all think to ourselves. I just take it one step further and actually think aloud. I'm not a quiet person anyway, and I like to talk.
Why must our thoughts be confined to the head? That seems a little crazy if you ask me. How do you know the voice you hear in your head is you and not some multiple personality?
At least when I think aloud, I know it's coming from me and not Bertha, the 56-year-old, gruff and tough short order cook inside of my mind.
Shakespeare put it best in "As you like it" when he wrote, "All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances..."
Well this player tends to have extended soliloquies.