Let me show you how to keep the dice rolling…

Hello again, dear readers,

So, in my own special brand of randomness, I was inspired to write this blog because the significant other mentioned the level of pleasant surprise exhibited by his friends at the ability of his mild-mannered, well-spoken, well-read, highly-educated, literarily-inclined, big-ten-graduate EIC girlfriend, to spit from memory the lyrics to Busta Rhymes’ raps (and while we’re at it, DMX and Eminem lyrics, too) verbatim. It’s like I’m a Clark Kent/Hyde changeling…and maybe I am, since I pick up on song lyrics the way I wish I understood French — Comment dit-on…ridiculous? I can belt out a song I like the second time I hear it (albeit, terribly off key, so don’t get your hopes up to see me on TV vying for votes). I love a killer beat and that covers a wide range of music (which shockingly includes some country songs—but take that secret with you to your grave…to your GRAVE I say!).

I know what you’re thinking, because it was what I thought…why do people think the two are mutually exclusive? Or better yet, why can’t I like Shakespeare, Charles Dickens, Ambrose Bierce, Stephen King, and also like Busta, Eminem, DMX, and Jay Z? In my opinion—which is all I have—it’s because we fail to recognize alternative form of creative outlets for what they are. Some rap is terrible, sure (and you know who you are and should be ashamed of yourselves), but some rap is epic (what Busta can freestyle do on a single breath of air is like witnessing the modern incantation of those people who recited epic poetry…I would compare it to witnessing with awe the first person who recited Paradise Lost from memory…but that is still way too epic…maybe if he did a 10 minute song :)). Most rappers/singers are as passionate about spreading their message as any writer, maybe even more so, as they are dedicated to the daily hustle and the grind of getting their work out there. They get up and go for it every day, they never give up and they never let someone else tell them they can’t do it.

I needed that little realization. I like knowing that something can survive in the face of objection/rejection…and I guess, since I blogged it, that mayhaps, you would like knowing it too. I suddenly feel like Lloyd, from Dumb and Dumber – “So, you’re saying there’s a chance!” It is a fun little thrill to see that I can still surprise people with my own special brand of uniqueness—since realizing that you are only one in a pool of 2400 applicants who ALL “love to write, think that part of the country is beautiful, has mad love for the faculty, want to teach, willing to volunteer” can make one feel pretty run of the mill. But at the time I worried that putting “I can work miracles in a kitchen, while singing any of the three thousand songs on my iPod, while dancing to the music, while carrying on a conversation with the significant other, while concocting a 30-page fiction story in my mind, while working on three 8-10 page research papers and day-dreaming in French” would make me seem unprepared for the rigors of the terminal degree. Ha-ha, hope you’re having as good a day as I am though, dear reader.

So, this blog has a soundtrack, rather than a recommended book list, because I’m still stressing over MFA programs…and you know me, if you want that stuff, go to the AEIC’s blog:

1. Hot Tottie – Usher feat. Jay Z
2. Love You Like a Love Song – Selena Gomez
3. Carry Out – Timbaland and Justin Timberlake
4. Under Pressure – Dr. Dre and Jay Z
5. Girls on the Dance floor – Far East Movement
6. Moves Like Jagger – Maroon 5 feat. Christina
7. Gimme The Light – Sean Paul
8. Turn Me On – Kevin Lyttle

Nothing like some Sean Paul to get you off your fanny and on your feet dancing; no worries, I almost broke my ankle too the first time I tried the “heel-toe” step at 3:15, it comes more naturally after you practice 🙂 And before you send me messages about how it objectifies the female body, these last two are Jamaican reggae music and it is a culture that celebrates the female form…yes, celebrates. The round voluptuous curves of a woman’s body are seen as highly sexual objects, but make no doubt, the women are in charge of these sexual objects they wield. They learn to love those bodies in an entirely different way and choose to flaunt it at Carnival in a way that liberates them sexually, while freeing them emotionally because they embrace these curves. I’ve been to Carnival once…it was freakin’ AWESOME!!!!!!

…aah, an oldie but goodie just started, Ain’t no Sunshine by Bill Withers. We miss you, sir, but we are forever grateful for the music. EDIT. Just found out the man is still alive (thanks Kristen), the egg is mostly gone from my face now, but still love you sir! So, until we meet again, rock out when you get the chance because it releases mega endorphins…which make you a happier person!

I remain, as always, your intrepid (and still fearless) leader,
The Editor-in-Chief, Women in REDzine
*I’ve attached the two videos that you most likely have not seen/heard below.

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