Music makes my heart soar!

Hello, Tomodachi’s!

I have not been posting as often as I used to for a while now and I am sorry for that. I will try my very best to post at least once (or MAYBE even twice) a week from now on.

Anyway, in this blog post, I wanted to talk about something different since my last blog post was of me rambling and ranting. Here is something a bit happier.

Whenever I sing it usually means that I am very happy, and for quite some time when I was living in the Netherlands I stopped singing due to some personal circumstances I was experiencing at the time and I was very depressed. For several months I just did not care about anything anymore. It is also part of the reason why I failed my thesis and could not receive my Bachelors last year. I posted a short video about it. Anyway, I got to a point where I just did not care. In one part of my mind I really wanted to complete my thesis and graduate; and in another part of my mind I just did not care and just wanted to be left alone. I also stopped trying so hard which is something I would have never done if I were in my right mind. I guess that is what depression does to a person. It was a very unhappy moment for me and I stopped singing and interacting with people except for a few. I was like a mockingbird who lost her song.

However, since returning home, my mood has significantly improved, and I sometimes find myself humming and singing for absolutely no reason. I have finally returned to the person that I used to be. Not to mention, singing this song makes me even happier than I already am.

And here I am sharing my extremely happy moments with you all. šŸ˜ I hope you too are enjoying yourselves and if not, I hope that you will soon find your happiness. It just takes some time, but it will come.

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8 thoughts on “Music makes my heart soar!

  1. Nice! For me, music lifts me up, even when I get depressed, especially when it’s a song I know the lyrics to and can sing along even with my poor singing voice. But I can’t dance like that, I must admit.

    Liked by 1 person

      • Well, I must say you didn’t show your depression when you did those spoken word shows. Those were wonderful!

        And trust me, your dancing is much better than mine. I’m terrible in that area! LOL

        Liked by 1 person

      • Yeah, when I was on camera, I tried my best not to show it. I wanted to seem like the same old Angie, even though I wasn’t. And thanks for complimenting on my spoken word. I try my best.

        And you have me laughing at your last comment

        Like

      • Well, that’s good! You know that old saying, “Laughter is the best medicine”!

        But speaking of spoken word, do you remember that piece I wrote that you commented on? I re-wrote it, and would like you to check it out. It’s longer and a bit more gritty, Would you like to see it?

        Liked by 1 person

      • Here you go, Angie! Remember that I wrote it from the perspective of a young black woman who is curious about dating out but also scared. And it’s going into a new novel I’m writing.

        What’s He Got?

        What’s he got that my men don’t?

        He’s hard when he has to be,
        But soft at the right times.
        Nothin’ like the men I’ve known,
        Tryin’ to be hard all the time.

        He won’t get all up in my face
        Over some stupid shit he started,
        Like the brothah who busted my face,
        Who’s now among the dearly departed.

        But he’s all pale, but laid back and chill,
        Blond hair, blue eyes, a smile that can kill.
        He don’t wear a lot of fake-ass bling;
        Fancy rings, necklaces, that ain’t his thing.
        Minds his bizness,
        Owns a business,
        Ain’t all up in
        Someone else’s bizness,
        But still livin’ large,
        Can I get a witness?

        So what’s he got that my men don’t?

        I watch him from a distance,
        Wondrin’ if he can go the distance?
        I think maybe he can do me right,
        But why’d he have to be so fuckin’ white?

        I get all warm and tingly just thinkin’ about it,
        My juices flow just singin’ about it.
        I can’t go there, though, my homies would freak,
        But if I don’t do somethin’ real soon,
        My prospects are bleak.

        I don’t wanna be a baby mama,
        A side piece or a hoe;
        I want a real man,
        Who provides and protects,
        A real man with somewhere to go,
        Not a punk that goes out clubbin’,
        Wannabe gang bangin’,
        Rubbin’
        Up against me,
        Fakin’ he loves me,
        But really just wantin’ that punany.

        Sometimes I think about that dude,
        Tryin’ to sleep, alone in my bed.
        Ooh, if only he was here beside me,
        I’d cuddle up to him lyin’ next to me,
        Maybe it’s just a fantasy,
        I’d wake him up with some head.
        Then I’d ride him for all he could give,
        And hope my friends don’t find out
        And give us both the shiv,
        Dump us both in the river,
        With stones tied to our feet
        And blades in our livers.

        Now what’s he got that my men don’t?

        I keep tellin’ brothahs before my shows,
        Like the Queen said in her song,
        I ain’t a bitch or a hoe,
        But sometimes that don’t last very long;
        I’ve got my needs, and those can be strong.
        Dudes tell me some stupid shit,
        Talkin’ their game,
        Makin’ me all wet up inside,
        Where there’s no place to hide.

        Sometimes I give in,
        It ain’t no sin.
        But the sex…Damn, it be so lame,
        In and out, out and in,
        Always the same,
        Leavin’ when they’re through,
        Never carin’ if I came.

        Sometimes I fake it ’til they make it,
        While I imagine that guy,
        Pale skin, blond hair, blue eyes,
        Wonderin’ if maybe he can make me high
        With ecstasy I’ve never known,
        Make me feel alive, a woman grown?

        Sigh!
        What’s he got that my men don’t?

        Should I go to him?
        Let him know I see him,
        All the time?
        Give him a smile,
        Swing my hips,
        Show some tit?
        A wink of an eye?

        Though I’ve never met him,
        I just can’t forget him.
        Is he really the slave master?
        Or was that just his ancestors?
        They say that the fruit
        Don’t fall far from the tree,
        But does that apply to here and now?
        Does it apply to him and me?

        I’m so torn up and ragged inside,
        Down where no one else can see,
        Where nobody else can know,
        ‘Cept me.

        So someone tell me, please!
        What’s he got that the brothahs don’t?

        Like

      • Hey, Don. It sounds wonderful! Though I think you could try to improve on the second half of it, starting around the line “I want a real man” and go down because it feels a little choppy here and there. And it begins to smoothly flow again around the lines “Should I go to him? Let him know I see him?” Also maybe you could change up the wording of the last sentence in your poem. But other then that it sounds pretty good. You significantly improved on the first part you showed me on Facebook. Most of it flows very well. Keep up the good work!

        Like

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