Guess Who I Saw Today: Lenny Kravitz


So… The Other Sister came up with another feature for my blog in which I write about all of the concerts I go to. She suggested I take a picture of all of the stickies I collect and then blog about the show. It’s official now, it’s a new segment.

A little background: I almost called the Other Sister’s husband the Ticket-master instead of Jamie Starr – frankly it’s still up in the air. Why? Because he’s our hook up. If any of us want to see a show, we check with him first.

Anyways, Thursday he called up (I assume-he could have just asked her while I was sleeping) the Other Sister and asked if I would be interested in going to a Lenny Kravitz concert. I said I would totally be interested. Mind you, I’ll go to just about any concert/show because I thoroughly enjoy watching people perform. I truly was interested in seeing him though. Sidenote- I always feel bad going to shows and not knowing any/all of the words. Or worse yet, a few select words from the chorus of the artist’s most popular song.

I had gone thrifting earlier, and I had no idea what day the concert was or at what time. When I found out it was that day, and that we had to leave in a few hours, I had to rush to do a bunch of things. I threw on my ‘concert skirt’ (I’ve worn this skirt to 2 or 3 concerts), my black heels, and grabbed everything I could possibly stuff into my purse and then some. We (Me, Other Sister, Photographer, and Lil’ Ruffneck) piled into the car (because i’m still learning to drive) and headed out to meet Jamie Starr. I then got into the car with him and we drove to the venue. I sat in his office for a few hours waiting for the show to start. Here’s a picture of me ‘backstage’ doing what I do best- paying no attention to the people around me and reading a book (preferably dark or depressing). The office was empty when I took this picture. 
Jamie Starr took me to my seat and I read some more of my book to pass the time. It was only a fifteen-ish minute wait. So Lenny Kravitz comes out, and he’s one cool lookin’ dude. Honestly though, my eyes were almost always on his background singers ’cause they were so cool. SO COOL. I want to be them when I grow up. The horn section was amazing – they are usually my favorite part of any given show. All the musicians were amazing. The drummer and bass player were especially killer.. as was the guitarist. Whoops- I think that was everybody on the stage. Wait! The keyboard/pianist was killer too- his name was George (I think). Anyways, here’s one of his most popular songs, and you can see his background singers killin’ it at 1:07 and throughout.

Fast forward to the last quarter of the concert- my feet were killing me. I had stood the whole time. I’m not the kind to dance around at concerts, and standing in one position becomes more painful than moving about. That’s what I get for wearing those blasted 5 inch heels. By this point in time I was ready to sit down (I had been ready since the beginning really) but I didn’t want to be rude. Everybody in front of and behind me (but not beside me) were still standing up. If I sat down, I wouldn’t be able to see anyways. When I seriously considered sitting down, Mr. Kravitz says “Everybody stand up” so I ended up standing through the rest of the concert. You are probably asking yourself why I would have such a long rambling about standing up. There is (kind of) a reason, besides complaining (haha). So, Mr. Kravitz must have really been feeling the crowd, because he decides to walk through it. I just so happen to have an aisle seat. It didn’t really matter, because most people left their seats to get closer anyways. He hops off the stage, walks down one aisle, and makes his way towards mine. The lady from two seats over (who migrated towards the aisle) kept shoving me and I thought she was trying to get closer. I tried to stay out of her way. Turns out, she was trying to get me closer so I could touch him. Tangent- What’s with wanting to touch a sweaty stranger that’s not even looking your way? What’s with wanting meet/talk to someone who doesn’t want to meet/talk with you? I mean c’mon now. Anyways, she gives me one last shove and I almost knocked into the man as he comes by. After the hubbub subsided her husband who was seated next to me asked if I got to touch Mr. Kravitz. I said almost. This is the song in which he goes through the crowd. It was a long song.

A little more background: Drunk people love me. Or at least that’s what I tell myself and others. They like the way I talk, the way I dress, and possibly other things. I think it may be that I am slightly too polite/nice/freaked out to ignore them, or to weasel my way out of conversations. The last concert I went to, a friendly drunk struck up a conversation with me about the show, and my age, and all sorts of things. The show before that, I may or may not have been hit on. He told me to call him the next afternoon. For all I know it could have been for a job interview. Maybe I should have another feature on the blog called ‘Drunk People Love Me’.

Anyways, the concert was almost over, or at least it seemed that way before a twenty minute song started. Somebody taps me on the shoulder. A strange woman asked me if I was enjoying the show. I smiled and said yes. She then shouted “Then why aren’t you dancing?”.  I smiled and turned back to face the stage. My shoulder were grabbed and made to move about. I turned and smiled again, hoping maybe that would satisfy her. She leaves her row, comes to my seat, and shoves her hips my way. I had no idea what to do. So I did my awkward “Pat Boone snapping/clapping to Tutti Frutti” dance moves. I locked eyes with the security guy hoping he’d help me. That’s his job, right? NOPE. He just smiled and shrugged his shoulders at me. I thought this dance/groping session would never end. She finally went back to her seat (a row behind me and somewhere between 6 and 9 seats down) while commanding me to keep dancing. I looked around wondering if anyone else was taking in the absurdity of all of this and saw people smiling and laughing along. I then remembered they were all hammered. I remembered that that’s what people go to concerts and do. Pay money to see something they won’t remember the next day. This woman did this to me two more times, and threatened it a few more times also. Near the end she made me take a selfie with her. All of this to say, a drunk woman made me dance with her, and I was not comfortable at all. (I like to write as melodramatically as possible. I think it builds character.)

All throughout that ordeal, I kept hoping Jamie Starr would come rescue me. He came and got me at the very end, when there wasn’t much to be rescued from. But, boy was I glad to see him! You should have seen how quickly I grabbed my purse and followed him out. The excitement of not having to look over my shoulder lasted for less than a minute. After almost being knocked over dancing, and being shoved five too many times, my feet couldn’t take it any longer. It was like a two minute walk to the car, but I had to stop and put on my Keds. I felt so stupid not being able to walk the short while to the car, but I’m glad I switched out shoes. I would have fallen over if I hadn’t. Picture is of my poor tortured feet. See the marks around my ankles?
 I’m sure I’ve mentioned before that I’m a total downer. If I haven’t made it clear before, it should be fairly obvious considering I spent so much time harping on drunk people. All of that aside, the show was great. Mr. Kravitz even said so himself. Our show was better than the Dallas one, he said. Again, the show was great, my seats (I originally had two so I didn’t have to sit next to anybody haha) were great, and I ate a great burger. I’ll leave you now with some Lenny Kravitz.

I almost forgot! So, Mr. Kravitz points out a sign that a young lady was holding that said ‘wardrobe malfunction’. He said that he had already done that. Anyways that made me laugh, especially considering how loudly everyone cheered after he mentioned it haha.

All That’s Left is to Say Goodbye (I’m quoting music titles now) OH! And I give my condolences to anybody who read every word of my ramblings.

~Dahlia

Setting the Record Straight: Self-Portraits

“You mean selfies?” the children asked. Haha, but really, I hate the noun selfie. I feel so pretentious saying that I don’t like the ‘selfies’, but it really doesn’t matter what you call them; they’re still just an image of you. I bring this up because I just took my first selfie this week. I even posted it on Instagram! I feel like I have to turn in my ‘unaffected non-mainstream counter-cultural teen’ card. I’m not as counter-cultural or unaffected as I imagine myself to be, but I honestly hate feeling like a walking talking stereotype of a teenager. Anyways, I had no idea how to take pictures of myself (or anything for that matter) so I watched a ton of youtube videos on how to take Instagram photos. Here is my first selfie taken in true Instagram form. I was quite disappointed in myself, if that wasn’t already quite apparent.

IMG_0148.JPG

A little background: This isn’t my first-first selfie, for I remember taking pictures of myself on my first cell phone. I didn’t post them anywhere and I deleted most of them immediately, but the ones I kept (for the time being) made me feel good about myself. Not the pictures themselves, but the fact that I didn’t look too terribly awful in them. I didn’t take pictures of myself (or anything else) daily and usually only did it when I was bored – very bored.
This is where I start ranting- People are doing the absolute most in this Instagram culture. It is not just young people, plenty of older folks take part, so this isn’t necessarily a generational thing (Phew! disclaimer out of the way). The problem isn’t taking the pictures of yourself or your food or your kids or your dog (the list goes on), but rather the need to always share. The inability to privately enjoy things is the issue. In the time you spent digging out your phone and getting in the right position and pushing the record button you could have been fully immersed in a special moment. A shaky (or very professional looking) iPhone video will never be able to capture what makes any given moment special, no matter how many filters you apply. You could make something look better than it did in real life, but it will never be as wonderful as the real thing. (This rant turned into a ‘live in the moment’ type thing, which was not my original intent. This rant will now change directions.) When you have extensive documentation of yourself through extended periods of time, it’s easy to see how much you’ve changed but hard to realize how much you’ve stayed the same. People my age will post a picture of themselves from a few years ago and juxtapose it with a picture of them now. A before and after, if you will. They then proceed to equate the outer change with a positive inner change, which is not always the case. It’s not my place to label people as ‘good’ and ‘bad’ or quantify one’s personal growth, but when you pull the same crap you did in middle school but in a different form (drinking/drag racing/ smoking or even less ‘sinister’ things) this perceived growth you speak of seems to be nullified. A new hair cut and a mustache does not change you, nor does the posting of inspirational quotes and Bible verses. UGH! Bible verses posted by folks who hardly make an effort to uphold biblical standards and inspirational quotes posted by drama filled/racist/sexist/ignorant people (or worse yet plain old bullies) is so frustrating. Just because your feed looks nice doesn’t mean you are. People liking you does not make you a good person- that’s another rant for another day. Don’t even get me started on comparing yourself to others, being left out, and the amount of superficiality/fakeness that seems inherent with these sorts of websites. To end this lukewarm rant on a positive note, there are many good things that can come from social media, and I thoroughly enjoy scrolling through Instagram (although that may be because I mostly follow strangers). I think that may be where some of the good comes in. Connecting with people you’ve never met can be fun and enlightening. The opposite effect can be had when connecting with people you already know. In real life they aren’t that cool, nice, or inspirational. When they post pictures of parties you weren’t invited to it can be alienating. It can quickly become a competition. I tried to end this positively but I’m just a negative Nancy at heart. Just call me Dahlia Downer.

Anyways I thought this song was quite fitting considering my rant.

So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodbye (Now I’m making musical references!)

~Dahlia

Hold Tight!

*The names of all of the people mentioned can be found in the Name Directory over on the side bar. Is it a side bar? I don’t know.

So yesterday I went golfing. I didn’t actually golf, but rather picked up The Bell Jar for like the third time. Each time I read it I enjoy it more than the last. Anyways, I took some photos in true blogger fashion (actually I had the Photographer take most of them for me).

 The Other Sister took this picture of me in the golf cart (before she made me drive). She and I joked that I should have a segment on my blog called ‘Things My Sister Made Me Do’. We’d take a picture of me reading a book at different locations that sister encouraged (made) me go to.

 I sent the Photographer off to take some photos while I sat and read in the golf cart. I thought this one of Lil’ Ruffneck and Jamie Starr was too cute.

IMG_0062.JPGHere is a self portrait the Photographer took.

 Isn’t the golf course gorgeous? I didn’t realize until I saw this picture. The Bell Jar is hard to put down.

 A little background: I can’t drive. I never learned and never cared to. Now that I’ve moved in with the Other Sister and her family, driving is a necessity. I’m learning, but frankly, I suck. My sister made me drive one of the carts with the Photographer in tow. I only got lost  once. A few branches may have gotten in my way, but we made it out alive. In this picture, I’m actually driving on the road.

 The Photographer snapped this candid of me watching the golf game progress.

 Another shot of Jamie Starr with Lil’ Ruffneck.

 The Photographer was excited to find paw prints in the sand.
 The Other Sister in her golf cart, staring pensively off into the distance (or watching her kid… whatever).

IMG_0140.JPGThere was a bunny rabbit at the very last hole. The Photographer got pretty close.

I had ‘Hold Tight’ stuck in my head the whole time. It was quite fitting considering my less than satisfactory driving skills. The song was written by Fats Waller and sang most famously by the Andrews Sisters.

That was longer than I expected, and I pity any person who didn’t skim through it.

Pip Pip Cheerio and a Froot Loop (am I getting any better at signing off? Is that even what it’s called?)

~Dahlia

The Name Game

 

To protect the innocent and the not so innocent (and also just for kicks) I’m coming up with aliases for those who surround me.

A little background on my family – There are six of us kids. I’m the youngest, and I have three older brothers and two older sisters. The closest in age to me is a brother with an 8.5 year difference. The farthest in age from me is a brother who is 22 years older than me. I along with two of my brothers are adopted. We’re black and the rest of them are white. That’s pretty much the basic makeup of our family – I wish it were that simple in real life!

  • Mom- Mother Dear
    I began calling my mom ‘Mother Dearest’ after watching Pound Puppies because a character named Brattina called her mother Mummy Dearest. I loved it and changed it to Mother Dearest. A year or two later I found out about the movie Mommie Dearest. It’s become a bit of a joke that I would refer to her by a name  very close to that of the movie because I have such a wonderful mother!

 

  • Dad- Father Dear
    I couldn’t have a mother dear without a father dear. My dear sweet father needed a name too. This is how I actually refer to the both of them in real life.

 

  • Eldest Brother and Wife- Number 1 and The Vegetarian

At home, the caller id for my oldest brother is ‘Number One’. I stole it for this blog. He is a preacher with a wife and four kids. He’s also super clever.

1. Lumberjack -Number 1’s oldest son works in a lumberyard (they live in the South).

2. Pretty Girl-His one and only daughter is a very pretty girl.

3. Curly-He has curly hair (coming up with names is hard, OK?)

4. Slick-That’s his nickname in real life, ’cause he’s one slick dude. Seriously his iPod is personalized to say ‘This iPod belongs to Slick’.

  • Next Oldest Brother and Significant Other- Superstar and The New-Yorker

This brother is Raymond from Everybody Loves Raymond. I’ve never met someone who hasn’t relayed praise about him to me. He plays professional basketball, he’s light-skinned, he’s charming. I’d hate him if he weren’t my brother (haha just kidding, BUT I LOVE HIM DEARLY, DON’T GET IT TWISTED). He has currently has one daughter.

1. Drama Queen

In the life of Superstar’s daughter, everything is a tragedy or a comedy, but either way it’s always spirited!

  • Next Next Oldest Brother and Wife- The Artist and the Muse

This sibling is closest to me in age (8.5 years older) and is a super talented artist. He can draw like nobody’s business and his tattooing skills are stellar. I thought about calling him the Gentle Giant because he’s quite tall and very sweet. I call his wife the Muse because every artist has his muse.

  • Oldest Sister and her Husband- The Other Sister and Jamie Starr

She’s twenty years my elder but certainly doesn’t look it. She’s super cool. When I told her the story behind calling our sister the Nice Sister she said she wanted to be called the Other Sister. So that’s her alias. She has a husband (I called him Jamie Starr because he’s a huge Prince fan. He actually is the one who introduced me to Prince’s music) and two kids.

1. The Photographer

Their firstborn child says she wants to be a radio disk jockey when she grows up. I enlisted her help with taking photos because she’s always running off with my camera anyways. She also loves animals and has and endless rotation of questions. I toyed with calling her the veterinarian, DJ, or the inquisitor.

2. Lil’ Ruffneck

This cute little dude is always moving unless he’s watching television, and even then… He should play football when he gets older because he is fast and most assuredly knows how to tackle any and everybody.

  • Youngest Sister and Husband- The Nice Sister and The Judge

My sister is not younger than me, and is in fact almost twenty years older. She too is super cool. She’s the reason I started this blog. The reason I have dubbed her the Nice Sister is because when my best friend met her for the first time, she turned to me and said “Wow, she must be the nice one!” Mind you, I’ve never referred to my sisters as the nice one and the mean/other one to seriously differentiate between them, but now I do! The Judge (I call him the Judge because that’s his job. I also thought about calling him his nickname from college which was old man haha.) and Nice Sister have two children.

1. Prodigy

We’ve been wishing my sister good luck with her daughter for as long as I can remember because she is super clever, smart, and mischievous. But seriously, she started speaking in full sentences with correct grammar from the get go. She can draw better than me (not saying much). It’s nearly impossible to keep up with the things she comes up with. There are loads of stories about this one and her little brother.

2. Candyman

This kid’s diet is almost completely made up of candy. He asks me for candy whenever he sees me. He loves the superheroes and the Ninja Turtles. He too is quite the clever fellow.

  • Best Friend- Friend

I won’t tell you how many years we’ve been friends because we can’t agree on it. In fact we had a knock down, drag out battle about the amount of years and still can’t agree haha. I will say that we met in the fifth grade and haven’t hated each other ever since. I actually don’t call her by her given name in real life, I call her ‘friend’ and she does the same with me. We’re quite annoying, really haha.

Until we meet again (I’m being corny on purpose, I promise)

~Dahlia

Howdy!

I’ve seized the opportunity to use howdy as a greeting, because goodness knows I don’t use it in real life! And so it begins… I could say I hope you’ll join me in this journey to discover myself or something sappy like that, but I’d rather semi- explain the actual reason for this blog. I’ve toyed around with the idea of making a blog for ages. People nag me (compliment me) all the time saying ‘you should do youtube’ or ‘you should blog’ or ‘are you on youtube yet’ and ‘you’re perfect for *insert platform/activity here’. I didn’t want to start a blog just to satisfy others, because if did it for someone else, I would not enjoy it nor would it truly be mine. Plus, I had no idea how I wanted to frame it. I now have a clearer idea in my head of what I want to do. There will be music and dancing. There will be fashion and history. There will be an abundance of stories. There also will be some teenage angst. I won’t be a teenager for much longer, but I think the angst lasts forever (haha). This will also be a bit like a stream of consciousness (that is a thing, right?). Strange things are always on my mind. I also rant a lot.  My sister came up with the blog name and tagline (she’s the coolest). She figured that because I’m frequently ranting about society at large and on a small scale, I should be posting it to the internet so as to set everybody straight. I also love music and have begun to amass quite the record collection – hence setting the RECORD straight (she’s so clever, I’m telling you). All of these words just to say this blog will have my musings along with other stuff like crafting, clothing, cultural things and pictures – there will be pictures I promise! One last thing: I totally did not start three consecutive words with a ‘c’ on purpose. One more last thing: I love to overuse parentheses and ‘…’ it brings me joy.

Until next time (ugh how cheeseball can you get?)

~Dahlia