The "Boy, I hope you SUFFER" Song.

Courtesy of Kathleen Edwards.

Some of the best parts of "Back to Me":

I got ways to make you crazy
Wear all the things you always wanted me to
I got ways to make you run
And my Daddy's coming for you...

I got ways to make you hear me
Just by whispering your name
I got ways to make you think
You'll never be happy again.

Great guitar, and as mean as they may seem....Clever lyrics. And its rock, and it's country, and its just...Right.

Watch the video if you have time.

I'm tellin' you right now. Someday I'm gonna sing BTM to a man.

That I hate. ;)

More About Me...

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Carry A *What*...?

This morning, I lay in bed, earphones in, listening to the radio.

You know those epic rock songs from the 80s?

*sheds a tear for Chicago*

There's this song...I'm tellin' you...It's been bothering me for years. It didn't matter what the verses said. Whenever the chorus came up, from what I could tell, it was all about this chick named Carrie A.

Or so I thought.

Carrie A lays along the road that I should travel...

Still. Something told me that I didn't have things quite right.

And so this morning, I tried to listen with new ears. At last, I thought I had it. "Mmmm...." I said to myself in my hazy morning fog. "...It's called 'Carry A Laser'".

And I just felt soooo clever. I was gonna come in here and blog about how wonderful it was that I finally managed to figure out the title of the song that had eluded me since childhood.

And then I went to Google.

The first entry that came up after typing "Carry A Laser" had a blurb that mentioned "Kyrie Eleison..."

I pressed on.

"Kyrie Eleison" is actually Greek for "Lord have mercy".

And so, even in a simple, nagging quest for knowledge...The Lord speaks.

Ruminations: "*Thy* will be done..."

aka "You Can't Always Get What You Want...And You Don't Always Deserve It, Either"

One of the most worthwhile and selfless things I've been able to do in my prayer life may seem at the outset to be obvious to some...Yet in reality, it can be very, very hard.

Namely, surrendering to God completely, especially when we want something.

Because when we ask the Lord to help us out....

*sigh*

Let's face it. We human beings are a selfish bunch. And trust me. I know from selfish. I'm an only child. In my lifetime, as much as I try to defend it...I've been spoiled with a capital "S".

This fact has yielded both blessings and curses.

On the bright side, it has fueled my sense of focus and ambition. When it comes to what I want, I am not afraid to ask.

At the same time, my getting my way has proven to be detrimental. When I can't get what I want in this life, I may hem and haw and pout. Figuratively and, sometimes, still, literally.

It took losing someone for me to surrender my sense of...selfish.

I think it's sad that a death had to occur before I started to put things into perspective. And yet if that's what it took for me to see...Then the loss was not in vain.

Because no matter what we want, regardless of what we do...No matter how we may try to manipulate circumstances...Or ask that the Lord would do so in our stead...We don't hold the keys to our destiny. Only God does.

And I'm convinced that we don't have the right to push when he says pull.

Some of you might think I'm a moron for saying this. You might say to yourselves, "But, neofundamental, I know what God has in store for me...He has revealed it all...Now it's up to me to bring the heat and make it happen."

To you, I offer a challenge.

Forget what you think ought to happen in your life. If you've been around in Christian circles, I'm sure you've heard this well-worn axiom:

God is in control.

At this time, I ask you to consider it. Seriously, as if your life depended on it.

Because it does.

I realize that for a time you may struggle and resist. "I know how this story is supposed to go..."

Look.

I know what it's like to have a vision for your life. I know what it's like to have a focus. But think of this simple illustration from my own life:

Unless you've been living under a rock, if you've been with me for a while, you know that my passion has been teaching.

I got into my first choice for teacher's college, blah, blah, blah...I'm a hellacoolwicked teaching superstar.

And I am. ;)

But I graduated in June. Since then, save for a few tutoring positions, I've been having a terrible time trying to get a job. I've had a few interviews. NOTHING has panned out.

Interestingly...I think my level of faith at this point is reflected in my attitude.

Back in the day, I would've been all depressed and angry. Statements like "God...What're you trying to do to me?...What did I ever do to you? What did I ever do to deserve this level of CRAP in my life?" would have swirled in my head.

Instead, my mind is, for the most part, at ease. I have been asking, "Lord, what are you trying to teach me?" No matter how hard the situation, I am convinced that there are lessons to be learned. Because in spite of what I think and how I may feel...God knows (literally) what I've been through. And quite frankly, the following may be what he's thinking:

1) Perhaps I need a rest. Seriously. I didn't miss a beat nearly all summer.

OR...

Here's a hard one that I contemplated resisting...

2) Perhaps he wants me to do *gasp* something else. I've always thought I was a talented, versatile human being. Opportunities could easily arise in other avenues.

In the end, will I be heartbroken if I don't get any time in front of a class?

Yes and no.

The thought of teaching and being able to touch young people's lives has filled my heart for so long now...I'm terribly disappointed that I'm not in front of a class this very minute.

On the other hand, God has known my end from my beginning. He created me. This life is meant to go according to his plan. Not mine.

So what do I say to you who remain determined to have your way...Because, after all...It's YOUR life?

I promise you this: The more you fight what God wants, the more likely you are to meet what my mom refers to as a person's "Balaam's Donkey".

For those of you who don't know, Balaam was...Well...You can read about him here. Pay attention to the part that starts with "The next morning..." .

Essentially, Baalam's the poster child for people who want what they want, over and above what the Lord has in mind.

So once and for all. Give IT up. Whatever IT is.

Father knows best.

Forget Kids. PREACHERS say the darndest things. LOL.

Check it out.

:P

So my girl, *marlo girl*, reviewed

that Emily Rose movie.

Favorite quote? Recognizing its flaws, she notes:

NO ONE talked about emily rose at school. i mean, if you knew someone who shrieked her head off at everyone who looked at her, wouldn't you talk about her behind her back? i know i would. "ooh lawd, girl. don' go talkin' to dat emily rose. dat chile CRAZY. wuhloss!"

LMAO.

You can read the rest right here.

Recently on Nykola - Proof that I'm not crazy.

I ran into this gem: The 36 Year Old Virgin.

Now, I'm not 36. I haven't even cracked 30. Yet. LOL.

However, when it comes to my relationship with God, I'm stepping into a place of peace: I'm learning the beauty of really waiting on the Lord, and trusting him for the fulfillment of his promises. In all things. Including love.

I find that I have to be especially careful about guarding my heart. (Proverbs 4:23) But I won't go there right now.

*ahem*

In the meantime, chil'ren...What has reading about Ms. Garth reinforced in my mind?:

1. There's nothing wrong with waiting.

2. People who do decide to wait for marriage before they have sex aren't necessarily fugly [sic] or dull as dirt. In fact, the opposite is often true. I am a living example of this...

But I digress.

The most significant thing Ms. Garth reminded me of is this:

3. If you align your dreams with the Divine, you are not aiming too high.

And yet...

A part of me wants out altogether. Hence my musings about being bald.

Straightening my hair hasn't changed my intellect one whit. Nor has it altered my sense of humor, my laughter, my talking or singing voice, the way I walk, and on, and on, and on...

Wearing my natural hair didn't make me a rebel, a hippie, a pot smoker, a punk, etc., etc.

Hmmmm.

Hearing about the hair-related stereotypes on both sides, it reminds me of the days when I used to be a Seventh Day Adventist. After I left that denomination, I remember wondering if I'd go poof if I wore a bracelet or got my ears pierced...

New india.arie and a Thought or Two

How many of you have heard her latest, "I Am Not My Hair"?

That song came my way via the boards on Nappturality, at--I'm sure you know now if you've read recent entries--a particularly poignant time.

On occasion, I wish I was bald. Perhaps then the madness would cease.

But in my lifetime...Or make that, in my twenties, when I first decided to try to love what the Good Lord gave me and accept it as is, I have endured what can only be called a litany of resistance. Beginning and ending with the classic anti-natural warnings:

No one will ever like you. No one will ever love you. No one will ever marry you. No one will EVER hire you. You are NOT beautiful. You do NOT look nice. People will be ashamed to be seen with you. I am ashamed to be seen with you. How can you possibly ever think that THAT is acceptable? Only SOME PEOPLE who have any sense are going to tell you the truth about the way you look, and you do NOT look good.

Did I miss anything? Let me know. LOL.

Which brings me back to ms. arie's music.

I get and love what she's trying to say. I understand her song completely. And yet...

As for me, I tend to think that I am my hair. In that I want to be real. And I feel the most authentic when I'm not hiding or pretending.

Not that my relaxed hair doesn't look good. It's fine.

*rolls eyes*

In a dry, crispy sort of way.

I do not mean to speak ill of those who relax their hair and enjoy it, or those whose natural hair texture is straight. But if you would like to learn more about why relaxing hair is dangerous, and what I mean when I call mine "crispy" read this. In particular, note this sentence:

Relaxed hair is always dry. This is why we’re constantly putting something on it.. oiling our hair and scalp two or three times a week...

I won't into the perpetual damage that I now have to look forward to.

However, in spite of the fact that, depending on how I style it, I look even less like a teenager than I usually do--for which I sincerely thank God...

I miss being me.

We all have the right to be ourselves.

*huge sigh*

Random Morning Thoughts...

Upon awaking, I thanked God, and I prayed...For friends, for family, for insight into the strange, silent circumstance that I am facing.

God has a plan for me, and I'm dying to know what it is!!

Then my mind was drawn to my MSN pic. It's of Jill Scott. I was thinking about changing about another lovely black woman that I've admired...Maybe Dorothy Dandridge...

Which immediately calls to mind Carmen Jones, and Ms. D being sung to--and singing with--Harry Belafonte...

"You is my Joe..."

"I is your Joe..."

What is it with this media-marketed idea that black folks shouldn't speak proper English?

And then I remember that bad grammar makes me want to poke out my eyes. I can handle colloquial language, but not when it's used in extremes or as serious speech.

And then I set off to begin my day...

RIP - My Hair as I Once Knew It: January 2004-September 2005

Last week I relaxed (permanently straightened) my hair. Just to please someone else.

I tend to feel I was coerced. How and why aren't up for discussion.

*sigh*

The jury's still out on whether or not I actually like my new 'do.

Out with the old...

In with the...

OLD?

Coming home and blogging again has me running amok, fixin' things. Behold, my old pink template is back. If you hate it...Too damn bad. :P

Why Blog?

It's a sunny Saturday afternoon, and rather than enjoy the splendor of my hometown, I am inside, surfing the web. I looked up--and found--several teaching jobs this morning. I applied for those which I am qualified.*

But right now I'm taking a break, wondering why it is that I blog. What compels me to expose myself online?

Something in me just simply doesn't have enough to do, it seems.

I'm alone, but not lonely, and yet...Deathly bored.

Since returning home I've only gone for a walk once. How sad is that?!

If I was back in Toronto, my legs would be sore and I'd probably be taking a nap--I'd have tired myself out from one of my typical weekend walkabouts. Through Chinatown, Yorkville, Kensington Market, and on, and on, and on...

What was I saying...Why blog?

A part of me is lonely and, IMO, wants some attention. The other part is interested in making a valid contribution, if not through teaching, then through communicating.

* Which is, if you know me, harder than it sounds. In my heart and soul I long to teach--to make a genuine, meaningful contribution to society. There's nothing like job-hunting to make me wish that I could be all things to all people, i.e. a teacher who specialized in French (which I adore) or math (which I'm deathly afraid of).