JOther

Im not PC.

Bunch of friends talking ...

K: "Comment T appelle tu?"

E: "E. But you are pronouncing it wrong."

ME: "Oh come on E. You are French Canadian - that means you are wrong in Two Languages at once!"

 

 

Great advice from people with odd names.

A few months back, I took a Blues Class from a Girl Named Mike.

In it, she demonstrated one of her key principles ...

Mike: "It doesnt matter what you do, its how you do it."

(Mike starts doing the Pee Pee Dance)

Mike: "Check it out. I am doing the Pee Pee Dance. It looks lame, right?"

(Everyone agrees and laughs)

Mike: "But now, Im going to really DO that dance."

(Mike does it again, but truly commits to the dance)

Mike: "Doesnt that look awesome?"

(Everyone bewilderly agrees)

Mike: "The point isnt Lets All Do Mikes Awesome Pee Pee Dance Move ...

The point is ... whatever move you do, FUCKING OWN IT."

 

This didnt really sink in at the moment. But it did set off an internal buzzer.

 

Maybe a month later, at a class with a guy named Topher:

Topher: "Jay. What are you doing? I know you can do this move. I have seen you do it."

ME: "Uhhh."

Topher: "Your problem is that you are trying too hard to be nice to the girl."

ME: "Uhhhh..."

Topher: "Instead, just trust her and your connection. Focus on *your* movements. Make them solid as all fuck. And when you do that, she will have to follow - there is no other alternative that isnt extra work."

Again, this didnt quite sink in.

 

But some time in the last month, it all happened. Almost like magic. At some point, my subconscious brain just understood what it knew, and decided to test it out.

My dancing has not been the same ever since. Once this happened, it was an almost immediate jump in dance skill. And when I kept getting positive feedback, I knew I was on to something.

 

So I have been experimenting with this concept ... of "owning the dance". I have even taken it as far as grabbing a good follow, and dancing to music types that I dont know. Or mashing a whole bunch of styles together in one dance.

 

It works. And when it works well, girls will tell me it was their favorite dance of the night.

 

I have no idea why I had to hear these golden nuggets of information. I should have already known them. Because it all comes down to CONFIDENCE. And I already know that is one of the biggest keys to success ... in life.

So I put this out there for others. Plant it as a seed in your mind, and let it grow.

Then reap the rewards when it finally blooms.

 

 

For some reason I keep forgetting ...

Whoa whoa whoa. Hold the phone.

 

I have noticed that in the heat of moments, I keep forgetting certain things. Namely - that I bring a lot to the table in most situations. And also, that when I am mentally on my game, I own the situation I am in.

 

I see this in dating, relating, and especially dancing.

 

In general, I think I am usually the one holding myself back. Now I just need a plan to change that. It doesnt have to be an especially good plan. In fact, one of the "Thats so crazy it just might work" variety would do.

 

Hrmm...

 

I feel a great sadness for this world.

Yesterday morning, I was sitting on the curb of the landscaping outside the hotel I was staying at. I was just staring out into the sky, thinking, and drinking a cold Cherry Coke.

From behind the bushes, a yellow lab bounds up towards me and makes a face.

I noticed right away that he was wearing a bright red vest. I knew what that meant, but I read the writing on it just to make sure. Sure enough "Service Dog - Do Not Pet Me". So I stood up and looked around.

There was no one in sight.

I began to panic. I got nervous as I thought about all the wonderful people I have met, who needed a dog like this. I got anxious as I thought about how the owner might feel to have lost a life companion. The dog was ambling away in the bushes. And I panicked further, knowing that we were a mere 40 feet from Highway 99. So I pleaded internally, "Please dont let this dog run away from me. Please."

I began calling the dog in a very soft voice. "Hey buddy. Come here. Come here."

He came. And I pet him. I scratched his ear and asked, "Can you wait here please?" And I started to reach for his collar. "Thats a good dog. Good dog!"

He moved a bit. "Buddy, I need to look at your tag. Please stay."

He sat. "Good dog!" He chuffed and licked the air between his mouth and my face.

After a few minutes of mucking around with his collar and my phone, I got the number and called. We lost connection before they heard my Hello. I called again and explained the situation. The woman asked if she could call me back, because her phone was about to die. So I gave her my number. I heard something off in the distance and the dog went bounding towards the hotel.

I saw a woman in an electric wheelchair, smiling and cooing at him. He was wagging his tail furiously. So I inferred that he was her dog.

"Is this your dog?" I asked her as I approached.

"Yes. I dont know how he got out. He is not being very good - he should be at my side!" She replied.

"Oh okay, well I just called the number on his collar to report him missing."

She thanked me and told me that she would just explain to them that her dog had been returned. She told me that she was from Chicago.

A moment later, I got a phone call. The woman at the service center was audibly fretting. And I explained that I just returned the dog to his owner. She confirmed that it was the woman in the wheelchair.

And then she said:

"You are a Hero. Thank You" 

 

I didnt feel this was correct. So I said that it was nothing. That I didnt do anything. It was just a phone call.

She replied, "Most people dont make that phone call. They dont even think to look at the collar. She must have been distraught to be without her companion. So yes. You are a very kind soul, and a Hero."

We wished each other wonderful weekends and hung up.

 

And you know what? This makes me sad for the state of affairs in this world. Extremely sad.

Since when is doing the Right Thing so abnormal? Since when is it so out of place ... that a simple phone call is enough to warrant a proclamation of being a Hero?

I am not a Hero. I didnt risk anything. I didnt really even do anything that required work or time. I just made a phone call. I just have empathy. And wanted to do what was right.

And if that does make me a Hero. Well ... the world is very dark and filled with indifference.

Dont contribute to that. Ever.  

There are no words to describe this.

These guys are FUCKING AMAZING:

 

 

 

You have no idea how much money I would pay to be able to move even close to that. Incoporating that into other dance styles (and partner dancing) is one of my main goals.

The Thing About Nice Girls.

Its quite simple really.

I have been meeting a lot of really Nice Girls in the last few months. Good, Wholesome, Just Plain Nice Girls. The kind you would take home to your Mom. The kind that make you think of times in America, when Romance flitted on the wings of innoncence and purity. When courting was proper. And things seemed right, and unbroken.

The problem is ... 

 

I honestly dont know what to do with them. Its as if I fail to believe that they would really be interested in me. Cause Im not really a wholesome person. Or very pure. Or super Nice. None of these are things that I bring to the table. (I tend to bring different perspective, acceptance, extreme loyalty, and a genuine desire to try, or care ... among other things).

So whenever I witness something from a Nice Girl, that in "Normal Girl and Boy Speak" I would interpret in a certain way ... I just chalk it up to me interpreting it incorrectly. That they couldnt mean any of that. They are too Nice. Its just an innocent mistake - they arent sending Me a signal.

And its really confusing.

 

On the other hand ...

The great thing about me interacting with Nice Girls is pretty apparent. I dont know why ... but they really do something to me. They make me a better me, when I am not mired in the feeling of my own blackness in their presence. When I am not paying attention, they inspire me to be Great. Sometimes it almost comes naturally. Like a reflex. And I almost surprise myself after the fact.

I take extra precaution to consider them in the smallest ways. To pay real attention to them. To go the extra mile to make sure they are taken care of. To be even more gentlemanly in many ways. To tone down some of my crassity, out of respect for them.

 

Why this happens, I dunno. But I am willing to field some ideas.

Speaking of Charlie ...

Check out this hawt track:

 

 

The Zone

J-Live

 

Its a track off of J-Lives (aka Dom Popadapolous. aka DJ Ny Quil. aka MC No Doze) new album : Then What Happened. J-Live has a killer style. There is something hard, and raw about his approach. It resonates.

But ...

I have always loved Chali-2nas voice. This is a damn good pairing, because there is something really good about back and forth MCing that contains disparate voice ranges. Chalis deep resonating flow makes this track slammin and you just couldnt replicate that feeling with a higher register MC.

If you arent familiar with Chali, you can catch some more of him (and DJ NuMark) on any Jurassic 5 album.

And if you arent familiar with Jurassic 5 ... well, we need to talk about some good hip hop. 

QotD: Homes Sweet Homes

How many houses have you lived in? How is where you live now different from where you grew up?

This question is somewhat bogus.

What are we talking about here, really? Are we going by number of "dwellings" I have lived in? Are we strictly going by houses? Is a townhouse a house? What about an attic mother-in-law apartment inside of a house?

Well, how about this: my total number of places I have dwelled in, by my count is roughly ...

29

The breakdown is as follows:

Houses - 10

Townhouses - 7

Apartments - 8

Others - 4

(others include a lab, a study room in a library, my car, and a shed).

 

The longest I have ever resided in one spot is 3.5 years. During high-school.

This is why home is an interesting concept for me. Where the heart is, has a difinitively different meaning for me. Because I dont have a "real" home. Never have. Its all about where feels right, and who is there.

I keep telling you I am a wanderlusty vagabond!

Its the End of the World As We Know It!

(or ... Necio de Los Necios!)

 

Im sure that if you have lived long enough, you have experienced exactly what happens when this song from REM comes on at a social gathering...

75 percent of the people start singing along perfectly, "That's great, it starts with an earthquake, birds and snakes, an aeroplane - Lenny Bruce is not afraid."

And then complete aural chaos happens as everybody starts Mahnahmanahming the rest of the way through the intro. This keeps going for about a minute, as slowly but surely the mumbling gets quiter. People start looking around bashfully at other people and trying to avoid eye contact during these awkward moments.

And then everyone belts out in unison, at the top of their voices:

"Its the End of the World as We Know It! ..."

And after the chorus, the mumbling happens again. Risnse and Repeat.

 

 

Well. I have recently discovered that I personally do something similar with any Salsa song that I really like. Hell, I dont know half of the words (because I dont speak Spanish at all!). But I caught myself trying to sing it anyway, and mahnahming through the lyrics I didnt know. Total REM style. And then belting out the words I did know.

So it kinda goes like...

"Mahnah mah mahnahmah mah nah.... Cantante de Los Cantantes. Hector Lavoe!"

And then I usually get frustrated at my bilingually crippled self and just start trying to mimick the music. Yes. I sing the trumpet section. Yes I sing the piano. Or the mandolin (or whatever it is). 

And yes ... I sing each instrument in different "voices" trying to match their timbre.

 

So yes ... I am a Dork of All Dorks. 

 

Color Coded Addiction.

Here is my current Dance Calendar:

 

 

Dance Calendar

 

Yes. I dance a lot.

Inevitably, after dancing with someone for the first time or two, they will ask where else I dance. Sometimes its just casual conversation, sometimes I secretly believe its because they want to "accidentally" run into me again (I do both of these things myself, as well).

Then it becomes this crazy explanation of that picture. Not exactly the easiest thing for me to do, or for them to process. Sometimes, I think it would be better for me to print that badboy out on a business card. Then I could just answer the question with ... FwahhBAM! (Cal--en--darrrrrrrred!!!)

That might be a little presumptuous, and pompous. But it would be efficient.