no matter how hard I try, I find myself a little bit beneath it.
thanking God
that my father taught me how to speak apologies, without ever opening your mouth.
It is an art that the digital age is reviving,
but there is something in the caress of a person
who knows they were wrong
that will never be translated right via text.
Before Michael Baisden started talking about it, you heard it on the Chuck Chillout show.
#SupportLocalRadio
Generally speaking, I hate people. If given the choice between talking to adults all day and speaking to babies in an unnecessary high pitched voice, I will Mariah Carey the bejesus out of every single syllable.
For a few years I refused to believe this fact. I assumed myself to be hiding in a convenient semi-truth to avoid facing my own shyness and socially awkward tendencies. I have always been somewhat of a pessimist, when combined with a lack of patience, and a lot of sarcasm I am borderline rude all of the time. Despite this, customer service always came naturally to me…until now.
My least favorite and most favorite aspect of working in radio have proved to be the same thing. Listeners drive me bananas. It seems that I have gained an extended family that is thousands strong. It will be the death of me.
This morning I was told that I am what is wrong with the world; that I am giving someone a hard time because they are black and I am white. She wanted to know why Al Sharpton would have a racist working with his show. I wanted to scream and slam the phone down, I wanted to call this little old woman a bitch. Shit got real.
But as I begin to type this out I think of a conversation that I had with a colleague last week. He assured me that people do not like to be questioned, and those who get mad when you speak the truth are the ones benefitting from the lie.
The short of it is that I was asking the woman questions about her comment. I sometimes do this when callers seem unsure of how to connect their point back to the topic of discussion. Normally it works, and helps them better collect their thoughts so they don’t waste their airtime dancing around the issue. This woman took offense and assumed I was bullying her because she was so obviously a negro and I a white supremacist.
Truth be told however, she wasn’t saying anything. The question that Reverend posed to the audience this Easter Sunday is “Why do blacks and whites view things differently.” This prompted a barrage of phone calls about how white parents, society, and the media are training white children to be racist.
Does no one else see the double standard here?
In honor of National Poetry Month, I am reblogging Nicole Homer’s posts and attempting to get the creative wheels turning again.
I believe the body knows things — remembers things — that we are not aware of.
I also believe that modern life fragments us.
Today’s prompt is simple and built on the above two statements:
My [body part] knows* things my [other body part] does not.
Use it as a prompt, a ghost line, or any other way that’s useful to you.
*substitute other verbs as you will: remembers, talks, lies, forgets, spills.
The ghost of a scar misses you.
The brain knows nothing of this pull
but the heart has heard the rumors -
that the boy who used to live there may return.
We don’t think their true though.
It wouldn’t make much sense.
The girl who used to let you in hasn’t been around in years,
and the new landlord doesn’t seem too keen on letting us have company.
To be honest, not too many people have stayed there since you’ve gone.
She left not too long after - seeped out of this body like a fever.
It is as if neither of you ever really existed,
Or atleast that’s what brain keeps telling us.
We think he’s lying though. Ever ytime he says it left hip gets a tingle that only ceases when the thought of you does.
It has been said that your initials used to rest there,
a silent reminder of you. I think the girl knew she would forget one day.
But the ghost of that scar will not let you go.
This is EXACTLY how I feel! She is my soulmate.
We have all seen those Facebook posts. The ones about a hot button issue or topic that tend to make you sad. They usually throw in something about how ninety-seven percent of people reading them won’t share or repost, but the true friends of the poster or true supporters of the cause will share, like, or repost. It seems that these have become the standard when it comes to activism and my generation.
From behind our web enabled devices we are strong, we are angry, and we are opinionated. We want answers, we want change, and we are demanding justice. Unfortunately, we do not want these things bad enough to discount, or to stand firm in the face of adversity. We are the ninety-nine percent only in our free time.
I am not discounting the power of the internet when it comes to creating change and social reform. I am however stating that nothing beats some good old fashioned activism. Facebook is great, but face-time (not the iPhone version) is great.
The blogs have been a buzz about Karrine Steffans.
For those of you who either aren’t familiar, or did not care enough to commit it to memory, Karinne Steffans is most commonly known as Superhead. To put it bluntly, Superhead took trickin to a whole new level. A few years ago she got all Players Club on us and used what she had to get what she wanted. Basically home girl was a groupie, but instead of just letting her coochie be a hot spot, she took some mental notes and wrote several New York Times best Sellers! Her scandalous, tell all, vixen series took hip hop and rest of the world by storm.
Superhead became the poster child for hoes across America. Now video vixens (and I use that term with a giggle) and loose lips had someone to aspire to become. Rappers were being put on blast left and right and fantasies were being ruined. Eventually, everyone stopped checking for Superhoe and she settled down.
So how is married life going for Superhoe? Well, this popped up on the blogs a few days ago. Let’s call it “An Open Letter From Superhoe to the Dumb Ass Who Wifed Her Up”
It is hard to believe that Biggie Smalls has been gone for 15 years now.
It is hard to believe that he is even gone at all.
If you are like me, you come from a generation that may or may not have entirely understood the impact of Biggie’s untimely death on hip-hop while it was happening. But as you have aged, you have seen his musical reach. To this generation, Biggie isn’t so much a person, as a legacy. He is the rapper that our favorite rappers rap about. He is the sample that runs through the newest song. He is the man that we have never met but speak about as if we have known our entire lives; mostly because we have known of him nearly our entire lives.
But Biggie Smalls wasnt always Notorious. There was a time when he was grinding for a deal and dreaming just like the rest of us. When he made his demo tape (and I do literally mean demo tape), he did it because he loved to rhyme. He wasn’t trying to ride a wave or make a hot record and it showed in all the right ways.
I use all of the bandwith my job has. haha. Sorry
I always feel like I’m in buffering hell!
The Most Important Race In The World
(Source: epic4chan)
HOT 97 relaunched Who’s Next Online. It is an online community for underground hip-hop artists and rappers looking to break into the biz. Participants can upload songs, photos, and music videos and rate other users content. It is a near direct link to the HOT 97 programmers and DJ’s.
With the relaunch, came the launch of a blog called The M.I.C. which stands for music industry connection. It focuses on stand out artists in the community and offers aspiring musicians tips on making in the music industry. What kind of tips? Read on to find out, and make sure you sure show Who’s Next Online and The M.I.C. some love.
Rule #1 - You Gotta Spend Money To Make Money
Just because you don’t have a major label backing you is no excuse not to hold yourself to a higher standard. Artists aspiring to break into mainstream are fighting for the chance to compete on the charts against polished artists. Why not start closing that gap now? A lack of funding should not equal a lack of quality.
