rememberance can often be soothing

i was just watching and janet jackson performing "rhythm nation" on youtube.com and it reminded me of the late 80's when i was really into her! i bought dang near anything that had her pretty face on it and her feathery voice in it. of course, that was before the libido monster ate her alive. i still dig janet, but in more of a nostalgia type of way. it's like she reminds me of an old friend whenever i see her now. she's not the "rhythm nation" girl i used to love. it's cool though. people change.

and then just last night, i was futzing around on one of my favorite sites on the web, allmusic.com, and rediscovered how much i used to be into michel'le. she was the r&b singer on eazy e's ruthless label back in like '89. she had a squeaky speaking voice when she talked, and a throaty alto when she sang. (sidebar: did you know mahalia jackson was the same way? where did that voice come from?! lol)

anyway, this stuff was all well and good back then. but i'm looking now with my grown-up eyes and sensibilities and what not thinking. "i can't believe i listened to this stuff on repeat." lol those were good times, but i've just noticed that you really can't repeat them.

i'll often notice the way sunlight hits the grass and trees and the very color will remind me of an entirely different time and place. this morning, the light coming through my window reminded me of the light in the dining room of the house where i grew up. and then i remembered how the light would kinda glisten through the crystalline sugar bowl we kept on the kitchen table... and then i remembered how i would b**** and moan if there were lumps in it from my grandfather using the same spoon he stirred the coffee with to spoon out the sugar. heh. i was a brat. it's funny in retrospect. but i was really mad about the lumps.

right now, that house is owned by someone else... who rents it out to someone else. i hear that they've taken the awnings off of the front of it and changed it's color from flax and brick to something pastel, loud, and more suited to a mexican villa. of course, my papa passed away almost 7 years ago.

but even if he was still alive, and the house was still the right color, and all of our furniture was back in it, in the right place, with all the discolorations and weathered markings that made it the place i remembered... i still couldn't recreate that moment. i can replay it in my mind, but that was once in a lifetime. all i can do now is try to pinpoint the next few moments that will come by and make me smile like that. and if i'm really astute, i'll know them while they're happening and enjoy them the first time around, instead of decades later.

“tito! my hair's on fire!”

OK, not really. But I am in that mode where most everything is about putting out fires. Runhere, dothis, changethat, finishthis, phonesringing!, hurryupandwait, runandgettoit, balancethisjugglethat, rattlethempotsandpansandlookgooddoinit, and over time it does feel like spaces just kind of disappear from all the words said and they just blend into one long imperative sentence that would have an exclamation point on it... if it ever ended.

The sad thing is, I think I like it like this. I didn't really kick into gear until there was too much pressure on... until the deadline was right before me. Seriously though, I must figure out why when I'm doing creative things, it seems like I don't get inspired until the day of. It's almost like you'd put your hands on your hips and bark at your idea, "What. You couldn't have gotten here any sooner? Everybody was waiting on you."

I feel like I'm on now. In reference to the previous rant, the lawnmower is beginning to do what I know it can. Now... if I can just get it to do it a little faster, we can really be in business. The graphic design queues are as full of interesting projects as Julie Andrews' hills are alive with the sound of music. I just finished a flash eCard promoting WOW Gospel 2006. I've got upcoming promo design work to do on Amel Larrieux's new album, plus individual sites for Kenny Lattimore and Chante Moore, another site for clothing line called HunterHill, and leave us not forget that school is starting on Monday.

And speaking of Monday, Monday is also National Mute Math Day. I'll be going straight from my new and wonderful classes at CSUN to CBS's television studios to see Mute Math tape a live performance on The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson, and then from there to The Troubadour in Hollywood to see their headlining live show, and then from there back home to await the airing of The Late Late Show so I can tape it, and make my Mute Math experience complete. Heck yeah. Ain't it grand?

once an idiot...

i wonder if it will ever end. i'm miles away from the virtually totally socially inept nerd i was in high school (and for a bulky measure of time up until). i've since caught on, and these days, i can often pass for a charming, good looking guy. if i had my way, i would disavow any knowledge of prior idiocy... but then, it happens.

an otherwise witty, well-timed remark is spoiled by a hitch in the delivery, stuttering, or just not letting food fly out of your mouth while you're saying it. it feels like i have to go back to square one... like i just landed on the monopoly square mandating that i go to jail, sans passing go, sans collecting $200. in times like these, i'm glad i'm a nice medium brown. any paler skin tone would give way to blushing more often than i'd care to let on.

we've all seen something like this at least once in life. someone isn't paying attention and doesn't realize they're about to trip and fall over something in their path. you're too far away to warn them or stop them from the impending accident. now, if you were in this position, you would know that the best thing to do (if you can't just avoid the whole thing) is to hit the ground quickly and rebound as soon as possible so as to at least minimize the number of people who can make fun of you first hand.

however, that's neither common knowledge or common practice. all you can do is watch in slow, slow motion as their foot catches, their arms flail in a clumsily vain attempt to regain balance, they let out two or three unintentionally comical yelps that serve to draw unwanted attention, and then hit the ground with as many people gasping in horror (then subsequently doubling over in laughter) as possible.

it can't get worse unless you go for extra points and either make a funny noise with what ever you crash into, or slip and hit the ground again while trying to recover from the whole debacle.

now imagine this physical travesty... reinterpreted vocally... just last weekend... by yours truly. it was a moment of oratory awkwardness that would have made porky pig proud. imagine the face of the person desperately trying to reconcile the mess of spoonerisms and diced gibberish sputtering from my mouth with any pattern of recognizeable English speech.

it looked just like the face of someone watching a poor sap with bad motor skills, trip, flail, yelp, and thud. embarassment does not begin to encapsulate the feeling that it brought upon. in retrospect, i count it a blessing, that it was only in front of a pair of people whose ascribed M.O. is to minimize embarassment rather than publicize it.

still, if i had my way, i think i might have chosen to take a light tumble down a half flight of stairs. the rationale for which is, that people who are just clumsy physically can often apply acquired sympathy to their wounds to speed their healing. but there is no sympathy for the mouth of an idiot. you just want them to shut up (and if possible, back away a minimum of roughly ten paces).

it's just seemed to be like that recently. maybe it will pass after a few days like light flu symptoms or faster like irksome hiccups. i don't know what it is, but just to be on the safe side, i think i'm just gonna not talk for a few days. so the bible says, and it still is news: "it is better to keep silent and be suspected a fool, than to open one's mouth and remove all doubt."

lawnmower man

i can't seem to get started. you pull, you tug, you grunt, and sweat, but the motor doesn't seem to be going. and it's hot. and nobody's around to help you. and you can swear the grass is getting taller while you're trying to get it together to knock it down one good time for the next two weeks.

it's been years since i had to mow a lawn. but that feeling of having to start the mower hasn't gone away. if i could just get it going, i was fine. it would pretty much run itself, i just had to guide it, make judgement calls, and then clean up after it. but man. the effort... getting up early in the morning, dragging that bulky tank out of the woodshed, and then trying to convince it to work was about the worst part of the whole task.

i, sir, am a webdesigner. among other things, it's how i pay rent. i'm to the point where i can no longer coast on saved up funds from months gone by. i have to get out there and work. and praise God, there are offers. not just offers, but great ones! high profile ones, God-gifted ones, ones i've been looking forward to for months. now is not the time to disappoint.

but i doubt the tasks will get any harder than trying to drag my skills out of retirement and smack 'em around. i know i can do this stuff, i just need to jump in there and make time for it to bring out the best in me.

blah blah blah. i haven't come up with any bright ideas while writing, so this equates to naught but venting and whining. i either need to be sleeping or working, but i don't have any time to waste in between. there's money to get. get me? :)