All Hallows’ Eve is upon is! Time for some sweet spooky jams!
I’m pretty excited to be dressing up for Halloween this year. Admittedly, the boyfriend and I waited until last-minute to put our costumes together. The good thing is that we didn’t quite “phone it in” and managed to come up with something tastefully distasteful. Here’s a preview:
Eat your heart out, Stanley Kubrick (RIP).
Anyway, I digress. Here’s my top 5 songs for a great Halloween:
1. “Lullaby” by The Cure
2. “Werewolves of London” by Warren Zevon
3. “The Witch Queen of New Orleans” by Redbone
4. “Dig Up Her Bones” by The Misfits
5. “I Put a Spell on You” by Screamin’ Jay Hawkins
BONUS: “Thriller” by Michael Jackson. Because you can’t have a truly wonderful Halloween without listening to “Thriller” at least 13 times on the radio.
Let the jams move you! For any Google Play Music users out there, click here.
For anyone who doesn’t have a firewall set up at work, here you go:
Yesterday I made a post about November’s NaBloPoMo and creating a 30-day challenge for myself. When I sat down to create the challenge-a-day list, I gave myself prompts such as “describe the basics about myself,” and “describe how my favorite song relates to my life.” I made it through day 5 with enough ease.
And then I got tired, made a sandwich, and took a nap.
Upon waking up and reexamining the list, however, I came to the conclusion that writing in itself is the challenge. I’ve never really had the discipline to write EVERY DAY. The next month will be an exercise in discipline to say the least, and if I reach some semblance of self-discovery, that would be cool too.
The thought of imposing prompts on my writing is too overwhelming, to be honest. When I blog, I blog about a memory a song triggered, or the way I’m feeling at that exact moment in time.
Long story short, I’ve decided to forego prompts and write from the heart.
My heart has moxie, my heart has grit. I’ll continue to write like a motherfucker, and I’ll make that happen come November 1st.
November is fast approaching, and with that comes NaBloPoMo. As a new blog, I’m feeling a little in over my head, but I’m ready to rise to the challenge. I’m ALSO scrambling to come up with things to write about. I’ve been pairing songs with life experiences thus far, and I will continue to do that to the best of my ability.
BUT, I am working on a November post-a-day challenge for myself, just (a.) to give myself topics for the day, (b.) to give you all an idea of what’s to come, and (c.) to bring me out of my comfort zone a bit. I will hopefully have my post-a-day challenge list up by tomorrow afternoon.
For those of you who have found me via BlogHer, welcome! I can’t wait to start checking out your blogs!
Anyway, I’m off to the store to buy toilet paper and then back here to write like a motherfucker. With that, I bid you all adieux.
Coming out of both elementary and middle school, my self-esteem wasn’t anything to write home about. However, there was something about the summer leading into freshman year that hammered the last nail into the skewed-perception-of-self coffin.
Without going into too many unsavory details, the summer between 8th and 9th grade was a difficult transition for me. Eighth grade had ended, and because of redistricting, testing, and other life circumstances, my primary group of friends was forced to disband. I felt a strong need to be with these friends over the summer to help quell the anxiety I was experiencing about starting at a new school, but unbeknownst to me, my summer would not turn out as I had hoped.
My boyfriend is a light sleeper, and when I move in the middle of the night, he awakens in a panic, reaching out in the dark to feel for me on my side of the bed. Half-asleep, he whimpers, “No, don’t go, no,” holding me in place once he has found me in the dark. I cradle his head against my chest for a moment and assure him I am coming back, caressing his hair and kissing him. After a while, he calms down, and drifts back off to sleep.
I can stay asleep. I’m good at that. Getting to sleep is the issue. I’m having more and more trouble doing that recently.
Prior to this recent bout of insomnia, I would wake up at 6:45 AM and make my boyfriend coffee and breakfast. It was a nice way to start the day. Now, I wake up after 9 AM and I’m alone until 5 PM when my boyfriend comes home.
Sure, I’m content with the amount of sleep I get on average. But those quiet moments I spend with my partner are unparalleled. I miss them dearly.