Would I like to make these? Yesssss!
Will I find strawberries WORTHY enough in a local grocery store? I can certainly try!
This always cracked me up when I was little. I don’t think I’ve ever been able to recite the whole thing. I haven’t heard it enough times, and I’ve definitely never seen it in print. Maybe I’ll learn it now that I have it.
Ladies and Gentlemen, skinny and stout,
I’ll tell you a tale I know nothing about;
The Admission is free, so pay at the door,
Now pull up a chair and sit on the floor.
One fine day in the middle of the night,
Two dead boys got up to fight;
Back to back they faced each other,
Drew their swords and shot each other.
A blind man came to watch fair play,
A mute man came to shout “Horray!”
A deaf policeman heard the noise and
Came and killed those two dead boys.
He lived on the corner in the middle of the block,
In a two-story house on a vacant lot;
A man with no legs came walking by,
and kicked the lawman in his thigh.
He crashed through a wall without making a sound,
into a dry creek and suddenly drowned;
The long black hearse came to cart him away,
But he ran for his life and is still gone today.
I watched from the corner of the big round table,
The only eyewitness to facts of my fable;
But if you doubt my lies are true,
Just ask the blind man, he saw it too.
You are beautiful. Strikingly. One time, my mom’s friend told her that I look like you. I wondered if it was a compliment to me, or… Well, yeah. I took it as a compliment. Even though my mom disagreed. She later said that I’m prettier than you are. I don’t know if she was being honest. She said the same thing when someone said I look like Alicia Keys. Anyway, I just look like me. You look like beauty. In this picture, you really remind me of my girlfriend who is also super beautiful. You’re aging gracefully, and that’s really nice to see. Especially these days, when so many people – women in particular – are obsessed with covering, lifting, colouring, re-making parts of themselves. It’s also nice that you’re not overly-sexy, baring it all, or popping booty all over the place. Though I suppose the booty popping wouldn’t do much for the music you make.
Your music. It is great. It’s so soft, soothing, and true. The words you sing are like actual feelings. They don’t seem like something imagined or dreamed or pretended. They could only come from a place of truth. Honesty. Reflection. With and of yourself. For you to share that with the world is beyond anything that anyone could ever ask of an artist. Baring the soul is difficult to do. Especially to people you don’t know and will probably never meet. But you do it. In ev.er.y song. That is commendable.
Some of my favourite songs by you are:
The song that gets me through rough days is definitely King of Sorrow.
It allows me to have a little pity party. By the time the song is over, I’ve allowed myself to feel all the awful feelings I would normally toss aside, and allowed myself to cry or do whatever I need to do to release the pain or sorrow. Then, I can move on, and leave the sorrow behind, in the song. Thank you for that. For giving me the license to FEEL. And to RELEASE. And to MOVE ON.
With thanks and appreciation,
WARNING: This may break your heart.
I like The Glee Project. In some (maybe all) of the episodes, they cover songs and do music videos. This one touched me, deep in my soul. It makes me think of the NOH8 campaign. I was supposed to do a photo shoot as a part of the campaign in Halifax, as well as a little spin on it, but never got around to it. I still want to do it. And I will. When I do, I’ll share the pictures here.
This is way too cool. This guy sets up a mic and stuff (I didn’t pay attention to the other wires and things) and beatboxes, welcoming people to sing/rap into the mic. Super cool, right?! Things like this never happen in Nassau (Bahamas). Ever seen anything like this in your city?
People dish out compliments on some weird things sometimes. Sometimes, they miss out obvious things. Maybe because they think some things are over-complimented. Maybe it’s because they feel like it breaks them down to build someone else up. It’s so much easier to “hate” on a person than it is to say, “You know what? This certain thing in particular about you… It really freaking ROCKS, and you should know it.” Or they just don’t take the time to notice. Or feel the need to comment. Or a million other reasons. *shrugs*
What do I never get complimented on? This is tough. I’ve even been complimented on my feet, and I think that is just STRANGE. My feet are not great, by any means.
Oh, I know! My ears! No one ever tells me I have great ears. People tell me I’m a great listener all the time, but they don’t seem to notice the body parts that make it possible. It’s a shame, really. I do have great ears. They’re beautiful. They’re even more special now. They don’t match. I had surgery on my right ear, and it’s not quite like the left one any more.
The Surgery Story
I got my tragus pierced in July 2010. It was quick, easy, and painless. It looks great. I’ve never taken the ring out of it. It’s a captive bead ring. Stainless steel. Plain and simple. I get compliments on it all the time. People think is super cute and different. I just plain like it. Ok. Fast forward to 2011. I decide I want my rook pierced. It’s super cute. I want the barbell. I get Babe to go with me to have it done before we headed to Atlantis to chaperone my nephew’s sleepover. I looked at the chart of the ear and its various piercings and decide that I should do the snug first. Those would be my last two piercings. The snug, and then the rook. I choose a ring with green balls on the ends. I’m excited. I get it pierced. It doesn’t really hurt. Feels fine. I’m thrilled.
WELL. Days later, it’s quite swollen. And red. And oozing. I clean it like I’m supposed to. I insist that it’s fine and it should be swollen and a bit oozy at first because of where it is. I keep going back to the piercer who tells me it’s fine, and we just need to keep squeezing it to get the crap out. Eventually, she takes the ring out, and I go there daily to have it squeezed. Weeks later, Babe has had enough. It’s far too large. It even looks painful. She calls a relative who is a doctor and he suggests we see a particular doctor. A plastic surgeon.
Here’s how the visit went:
[Doctors enters room]
Doctor: Ok, so what can I do for you toda— WHAT. DID YOU DO. TO YOUR EAR?!
Me: [nervous laugh] Pierced it.
Doctor: Oh, my GOD.
Me: Oh. No. It’s not good if you’re saying, “Oh, my GOD.”
Doctor: No. It isn’t good. Your ear is badly infected.
Me: [blinks] Oh.
Doctor: We are going to have to operate. Right now.
Doctor: Yes, right away. We can do it here. It’s very serious.
Me: [tears roll down cheeks]
Doctor: Listen. We have to do this. You could lose your entire ear. We’re going to try to save it.
Doctor: Do you want to call someone?
Me: *shakes head*
Doctor: Ok, this is what is going to happen. [foreign language and combinations of words I’m not listening to at all b/c my brain is stuck on SURGERY when I thought I’d come in, and he’d use a needle really quickly to drain my ear.]
Me: [cries quietly]
Doctor: Are you sure you don’t want to call someone? Is that your friend out in the waiting area?
Doctor: Do you want me to call her?
Me: *nods while crying quietly*
[Doctor goes out of room. He comes back with T who looks very somber and sits down next to me and hold my hand. The doctor explains that he’ll do the surgery in house which is better than going to a hospital and staying overnight. He tells us that he will stick me a few times to numb my ear, then he’ll make two incisions (one at the front and one at the back of my ear) to drain the infection out. He makes it clear that he will do his best, but can’t guarantee that he can save my ear, or that it will ear look the same again. This is when I cry more. T makes a call to my sister to let her know what was up. My sister wants to be there, but she can’t leave work due to a training session. She calls our older sister who is off from work (not feeling well), and jumps up and flies to the doctor’s office to be with me.]
RANDOM NOTE: PEOPLE. PLEASE. Piercings are really cool, but BE CAREFUL. Do your research. find the best piercer possible. Ask questions. If anything seems wrong, go back to your piercer. If you have any doubt about what he/she says, see someone else. Another piercer. A doctor. Even at a walk-in clinic. Online forums are good too. I posted ONE picture, and they told me right away that something was VERY wrong.
Well, the procedure took a few minutes. T held my hand the whole time, and my sister rubbed my leg and told funny stories. I just laid there, quietly crying. When it was done, the doctor had to pack my ear with gauze, to give it shape. The infection ate away at my cartilage, so he really had to build it back. My entire ear was covered when he was done, and the gauze was wrapped around my head. I looked like I could have just had brain surgery. This was done on a Monday. I went back on Wednesday and Friday for dressing changes. By the next week, I didn’t need the full headwrap. I could dress it myself. But I didn’t. T did it for me. Every day and night. About a week after that, I graduated to just a bandaid at the back because the front had healed. I refused to look at it for about a 2 weeks. It was dark and weird-looking. As the doctor promised, it has lightened up and shaped pretty nicely. My right ear still doesn’t match my left ear, but I still have it. I can still hear. And listen. So it’s okay if people don’t think it’s pretty.
Seriously?! Make my own goldfish snacks?! Uhhh… YES, PLEASE!