Corona on Crack

Hands up.

Hands out.

Hands. Just hands.

Hands sideways.

Hands other sideways.

Hands up.

Hands up.

Jazz hands.

 

I watched the curious man perform the curious upper body routine. I was idling at a stop light, trying to covertly watch him perform this vigorous dance ritual. I nervously darted my eyes away when I thought he’d turn to face me. I didn’t want to get caught gawking and making eye contact. I didn’t want him to ask me for change.

He never even seemed to realize that I, or anyone else was watching him. He didn’t seem to really notice any part of the world around him.

dancing man

He stood on the concrete median, bare chested and beer bellied, all bare, flailing his gray-hair covered arms above and around his head. I squinted, not because of the sun, but in the way one squints when trying to really understand what is happening. Then, I squinted even harder.

And then I remembered: this man is likely on drugs.

Big cities are seemingly always hotbeds for naughty activities and Houston is no different. With all of the good things (lots of museums, shopping, sports teams) come some not so great things (an active drug scene and very, very creative drug users).

Being stuck inside most of the time is twisting my reality. A few times that I’ve been outside, I almost forgot that the coronavirus-related lock-down is happening. I also almost forgot that Houston is full of interesting characters, walking around like anyone else, except they’re actively in the grips of a wild drug trip.

I have seen people walk straight into oncoming traffic (I’ve actually seen this MANY times, believe it or not). I have seen people having sex and performing cunnilingus (Google it) in daylight. I have seen people urinating and defecating on the street. I have also seen people perform complicated, upper body only dance routines. Dare I say that the jazz hands dance was the most entertaining and the least offensive. Although, in full disclosure, I don’t have anything against cunnilingus.

I also once saw a man, wearing very expensive looking house slippers, walk in and out of a Starbucks, over and over and over again. Each time, he would perform a little jig, in the middle of the parking lot, make a twirl, and re-enter the building. I struggled to drive away; I was mesmerized by the oddity of his athletic ability coupled with his drug-induced behavior. “This man could have truly been an amazing dancer,” I remember thinking. I did not have the same sentiment about jazz hands on the median man.

The thing I thought most about jazz hands on the median man is this: it has now been 6 weeks (or longer) that I have been unable to find bleach. Where in the HELL did this guy find drugs?

Sigh.

3 Songs I am Embarrassed to Admit I Love

Do you ever sing in the car?

Like REALLY belt it out?

I sing in the car like my life and driving abilities depend on my singing. The music is usually very loud to drown out my own voice, but I wonder if I might have a really great singing voice. I’ve never sang in front of people, but even without the affirmation from other people, I know that I am no Whitney Houston.

But, maybe I could be a Miley Cyrus?

Part of my desire in creating this blog is to develop more comfort with myself through sharing more things about myself, with the world, metaphorically naked, for all the world to see.

So, without much more explanation, here is some information that is essentially the equivalent to me baring my soul. Here are three songs that I absolutely love, but am kind of embarrassed that I like.

1. Miley Cyrus: “Party in the U.S.A.”

How can you  not like this song? It’s essentially about a girl moving to a new town and feeling scared. I have done this, IN REAL LIFE, two times. When I first moved to Houston, I played Gwen Stefani’s “L.A.M.B.” album pretty much on repeat, to find courage to be here alone. I can totally relate to this song! Feeling out of place, feeling homesick, feeling pressured–all of those things SUCK! But, when a song you love comes on, you know you’re gonna be o-kayyy (like she sings in the song).

2. Cardi B: “Bodak Yellow”

BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITCH. I love this damn song!

Ok, enough profanity on this blog. But, do not click the link to listen to this song if you do not enjoy profanity. Here are some admissions I should make about this song: 1) I don’t know what the title means and I’ve never Googled it. 2) What is this song about, like, really, in the greater meaning of life and the universe? I have no idea at all. 3) I am perhaps totally shallow because I really enjoy this song, even though it’s primarily about being rich and wearing “red bottoms”. Those are Louboutin shoes, for all you people out there who are busy thinking about important things instead of designer shoes.

I became a little obsessed over this song, and eventually read about Cardi B’s life. Turns out, she was a physically and mentally abused stripper who hustled her way into the rap game. Like her music or not, you gotta respect her hustle and desire to get out of her less than desirable situation. I can literally rap along with this song, line for line. Please, no one tell my mother.

 

3. Train: “Drops of Jupiter”

I have been teased about my affinity for “White boy music” (whatever the f*ck that truly means) since I first began to listen to Alanis Morissette back in 6th grade aka a LONG TIME AGO.

More recently, I was teased for liking Train. A friend told me that “all of their music was garbage” and I just have to politely disagree. I love the lead singer’s unusual and somewhat raspy voice and I LOVE the quirkiness of their lyrics.

My favorite lyric is “Did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?” The lyrics don’t plainly make sense, but there’s something about this song that I just inherently understand and I don’t really know why.

 

So, there’s my embarrassing list! But, before I go crawl into a hole, tell me your most loved, yet most embarrassing songs.

Until tomorrow, my friends…

I <3 The Winter

I have a confession.

You might think I am a Southerner, but I might not be. I might actually be from the, ahem, gasp, NORTH! Well, at least in my heart.

As I have written on previous blogs, I have an affinity for all things and places that are cold and miserable. Bonus points if they’re both cold and miserable in the same day.

My favorite places are London, England; Portland, Oregon; Niagara Falls, Canada; Mill Run, Pennsylvania (technically, the Falling Water House is what I love in this location, but let’s not forget that it is in a very northern state).

For the past few days, winter has made a big arrival here in the Houston area, where I live. I did not venture out yesterday, but today I became a bit stir crazy. I decided that I ABSOLUTELY NEEDED some tomato paste and a taco making kit. So, I bundled up and drove, on the surface streets of course, over to the closest Target store.

I wasn’t expecting to see as much ice as I did, but it was kind of gosh darn wondrous. Is this what it’s like to wake up and see the ground be covered in cold, white stuff in the morning? It was amazing.

I did quickly, learn, however, that lots of folks were not as impressed with the ice and sleet as I was. People rushed by me as I walked slowly into the Target, admiring the frozen freckles on the bushes outside. People rushed by me as I drove the speed limit (for once) and admired the shimmering ice on the surface of Memorial Parkway.

The sun was the kind of bright that touches the spirit; the kind of bright that bleaches away sadness. The contrast of the warmth from the sun and the bite of the chilled air makes me so happy.

I will say that I enjoy doing enjoyable and leisurely things in the cold. Would I want to be a traffic cop in 19F weather? Nah, probably not.

How’s the weather where you are?

Until tomorrow, my friends…