Filed under: Stuff
I live at home still, not paying phone bills
Hydro or rent and my mom makes most meals
So it’s so ill, I don’t need no scrill
Only cash for gas when I borrow my folks’ wheels
(But you can’t drive) Whatever our van died
(Get a good bike) Who I look like, that lance guy?
I ain’t pushin no banana seat, lookin like some 8-year old kid on your grandma’s street
You can go ahead and call me lazy, I just retired real young ya’ll, call me jay-z
Or maybe I just hate these crappy jobs, call me crazy,
but I refuse to work em man, it’s miserable
Can’t do it ‘less it’s due to circumstance
And I need the cash to feed my astronomical appetite
But for the time being ya’ll, I’ll sacrifice
And have a life minus a couple of luxuries
Just cutting my budget schemes
And getting some stuff for free
Like whys a brother need a dentist?
It’s expensive and my gums’ll bleed
They do every time when he scrubs em clean
And every year they try to bump the fee
Plus he’ll prolly recommend braces – there you go
That’s another G!
Well thanks a lot doc but listen
I can brush my teeth all on my own
So you ain’t gonna hustle me!
So that takes care of the dental plan, now heres a potential scam
Getting my toes crushed by a rental van
Then if I sued the driver and the rental guys
Enterprise or whatever, I bet they would settle nice
Court adjourned, now I just gotta pay for the law forms
That’s easy – spend 2 weeks eatin popcorn
Like students ‘cept I’m grown and it’s not dorms
So it’s a bit more pathetic – ok a lot more…
But what ya’ll gotta mock for (mach 4)?
What’s wrong with my mach 3?
Ya’ll gotta be macho and mach more
Well not me and I do not need to change blades
It’s all my own hair I shave, chin back face legs
And the rashes rarely last more than 8 days
Usually so that’s cool with me – I can save great
And hygene ain’t no reason to buy things
Like soap or Visine or getting clothes dry cleaned
I don’t throw away dough on no facials
Yeah I make rolls of my penniesI even pay folks
In clubs out this case full of pesos I lug
Get em exchanged? Nope, I’m waiting til the rate’s low
Don’t hate yo
Just cause ya’ll wasteful
Ya’ll wanna make your bruh the scapegoat
It’s bugged…
It’s all nuance
Use your head – why get a bed and couch
When you can slouch on a futon instead
If you got a little bread like croutons
Download them new songs and spread them coupons
If you happy when you save 2 dollars a week
You steal your neighbors empty bottles
And keep all your receipts and only treat your girl
Yearly to McDonalds to eat
Don’t be ashamed, pop your collars mang – holler at me!
If ya’ll are this cheap
This is for acknowledging peeps
That gotta track every dime usin columns and sheets
If you strip search the mall for the bargain to beat
Like everyday you’re just a penny safe from starved in the street
Keep carvin a niche
I’m started in a jar for the wee
Little shaddies still to come for their college degree
Yo I figure starting early on the market is key
I plan on havin smart daughters all Harvard md
And regardless we gon never put a car on the streets
‘less them gas prices lower and the parking is free
And no parka for me
Not even gloves scarves or a fleece
I may freeze but I’ll keep savin marvellously… holla!
Filed under: Stuff
Alright, so maybe lyrics of the month isn’t enough. Let’s go weekly and see if I can remember to keep it up. There’s just too many good songs out there to only do one a month. So here you go. Preacher Man Jason shared this guys tunes with me, and I’m hooked. Thoughtful lyrics, beautiful guitar, simple to sing along with. This song hit me especially close to home this week. Reminded me that I need to change my heart to be in tune with God, rather than in tune with my comforts. Loving it, and you should to.
Instead Of A Show :
I hate all your show and pretense
The hypocrisy of your praise
The hypocrisy of your festivals
I hate all your show
Away with your noisy worship
Away with your noisy hymns
I stomp on my ears when you’re singing ’em
I hate all your show
Instead let there be a flood of justice
An endless procession of righteous living, living
Instead let there be a flood of justice
Instead of a show
Your eyes are closed when you’re praying
You sing right along with the band
You shine up your shoes for services
There’s blood on your hands
You turned your back on the homeless
And the ones that don’t fit in your plan
Quit playing religion games
There’s blood on your hands
Instead let there be a flood of justice
An endless procession of righteous living, living
Instead let there be a flood of justice
Instead of a show
I hate all your show
Let’s argue this out
If your sins are blood red
Let’s argue this out
You’ll be one of the clouds
Let’s argue this out
Quit fooling around
Give love to the ones who can’t love at all
Give hope to the ones who got no hope at all
Stand up for the ones who can’t stand at all, all
I hate all your show
I hate all your show
I hate all your show
I hate all your show
Instead let there be a flood of justice
An endless procession of righteous living, living
Instead let there be a flood of justice
Instead of a show
I hate all your show
Filed under: Stuff
yes, i’m still stealing nic’s ideas. i really hate drugs. not because i’m judgmental of people who do them. i did them for years. but lately, it feels like its affecting lots of people that i love, causing them to make poor choices, destroying families and lives. and it’s a trap that feels impossible to get out of. i heard this song and it just hit me. reminded me of where i’ve been and the effects of these choices. plus, it’s an amazing song. so i thought i’d share.
If she wants to dance and drink all night
Well theres no one that can stop her
Shes going until the house lights come up or her stomach spills on to the floor
This night is gonna end when we’re damn well ready for it to be over
Worked all week long now the music is playing on our time
Yeah we do what we do to get by
And then we need a release
You’re gonna mix up with the wrong guys
You’ll get messsed up on the wrong drugs
Sometimes the party takes us places that you didn’t really plan on going
When people see the track marks on her arms she knows what they’re thinking
She keeps on working for that minimum
As if a high school education gave you any other options
You know
They don’t know nothing about redemption
They don’t know nothing about recovery
Some people just aren’t the type for marriage and family
No mother ever dreams that her daughters gonna grow up to be a junkie
No mother ever dreams that her daughters gonna grow up to sleep alone
No mother ever dreams that her daughters gonna grow up to be a junkie
No mother ever dreams that her daughters gonna grow up to sleep alone
Shes out of step with the style
She don’t know where the actions happening
You know that down town club scene aint nothing like it used to be
You reach a point where theres not a lie in the world that you could use to make the boys believe you’re still in your twenties
They keep getting younger don’t they baby
Shes not waiting for someone to come over and ask for the privilege
She can still hear that rebel yell just as loud as it was in 1983
You know there ain’t no johnny coming home to share a bed with her
And she doesn’t care
No mother ever dreams that her daughters gonna grow up to be a junkie
No mother ever dreams that her daughters gonna grow up to sleep alone
No mother ever dreams that her daughters gonna grow up to be a junkie
No mother ever dreams that her daughters gonna grow up to sleep alone
No mother ever dreams that her daughters gonna grow up to be a junkie
And if she had to live it all over again
you know she wouldn’t change anything for the world
Filed under: Stuff
it was the first rap song i had ever heard. it was the late 80’s or early 90’s, and i remember my brothers telling me i had to hear this wicked cowabunga song. i’m pretty sure bart simpson was at his high point at this time. so that night, we pretended to go to sleep, but when the door was closed, we turned on the radio and waited. which was annoying, because you never knew when you would hear the song you wanted. plus, i hated the radio guy. i used to always call in and request bryan adams “anything i’d do” and he would call me clair on purpose. when i was a kid, i thought he was just making an honest mistake. but as i have grown older, i understand he was just getting a kick out of the 6 year old kid calling in and requesting a love song. finally after waiting for what seemed an eternity, the song came on. 2 legit 2 quit. my introduction to rap/hip hop. the nexy day/week/year (i don’t remember) my brother mark brought home a tape he had borrowed from a friend. vanilla ice. ice ice baby. for those that know me, you will know the love affair i have with this song. i can rap from start to finish. i got skillz…we listened to that tape for hours before bed. my parents ignored it and didn’t think much about it until joylyn or kerilyn (aka little rat finks) complained that they wanted to listen to music before bed. so mom took our tape player and turned it on. it just happened to be on some 
song talking about having sex on an inner tube. needless to say, that got my parents attention…when my 3 & 5 year old sisters were introduced to nastiness on an innertube. the tape was thrown away.
rap/hiphop and i have had a conflicted relationship ever since. i’m not entirely sure what constitutes rap, and what exactly is hiphop, so i’ll just call it rap-hop in a general understanding that there are elements of both that i loved. i’m pretty sure that one of my friends reading this who is a legitimate fan of this style of music wants to punch me in the mouth for that. middle school was filled with bad 90’s music. dance mix 93 was my personal fav. between “jump around” and “whoomp, there it is”, our relationship stayed cordial. the songs were fun enough to sing along with that i still enjoyed it. high school, things started to get a little more choppy. i became a punk rocker at heart, and to be a punk rocker meant i had to divorce rap. it was an unwritten rule at the time. the two just didn’t mix. and i was conflicted, because i loved screeching weasel, mxpx, dbs, etc…but i had also just listened to eminem and discovered tupac (years too late, i know…i was behind the times). and so i made my choice. i divorced rap/hiphop. it wasn’t a messy break up. it was quick and clean. after all, i was in grade 9, and we didn’t have any children together. it was then my job to mock rap/hiphop. any time i heard the bass pumping in some goons car, i would shake my head and mock them. what losers, i would say. all the while, i still knew that deep down, ice ice baby was engrained on my heart. i had betrayed my first love, and was feeling the shame. but punk rock was real. i wasn’t faking my love. it was true and pure, but all the while i knew that i had left my first love. even though this love of punk rock was greater, there was still a tug at my heart. dr dre’s “the chronic 2001” came out, and the conflict grew. tracks like “forgot about dre” reminded me of the one i had left behind. but there was no turning back. at this point, i had to choose, and the only choice was punk rock. so i began to despise rap culture, and rightly so. hoes, money, cars…useless crap. it was easy to begin to forget the love i had. once in a while, it would creep back with a catchy beat, but i shut my feelings off. punk rock was my life. and i have no regrets in choosing punk rock.
more recently, my love of rap-hop has come back to haunt me. artists like emmanuel jal, k-os and most importantly, SHAD (june 8th in regina, be there!) have reminded me of my first love. artists with incredible beats and lyrics about something important. a perfect mix of all the things i had convinced myself were reasons to dislike rap-hop were staring me in the face. and i can’t say no. i can’t choose. i still love my punk rock. it has shaped me and influenced me beyond measure. but i can’t say no to something just because it’s expected of me. i am breaking out of the boundaries punk rock has placed on me. and i think that’s more acceptable now days. in high school, it was unheard of. today, i will only get a slight reprimand. because i can’t choose. i think that makes me a polygamist. a music polygamist, don’t worry melissa. i’m going to my first rap-hop show next week. 
SHAD is promoting his new album TSOL (which you should go and buy right now. throw your computer in the garbage and run to your local music store…or i suppose you could just buy it on itunes and save yourself thousands of dollars. your call) and i can’t wait. make sure you listen to Shad and Emmanuel Jal if you haven’t yet. so i’m a musical polygamist. if you have a problem with that, i just have one thing to say to you. i’m 2 legit 2 quit, and you can’t stop it. 
you can never please everyone. it’s a fact. to do one thing will upset another, and vice versa. unless you have figured out some magical way to please the world, i’m pretty sure we are stuck here. in this place where someone will always be left unhappy. it’s frustrating to me that this is the way it is. why can’t everyone just understand that I have the answers and follow me. oh wait…that just sounded like i was calling myself Jesus. but that’s how i feel most of the time if i’m honest, that i just wish people would listen to reason…my reason.
growing up in salmon arm, bc was awesome. who named that town anyway? someone convinced me when i was a kid that it was because they found a salmon with a human arm on it long ago. i believe it. but it was an amazing town. just saying it brings back a flood of memories. one day, peter and i decided to walk home together alone after evening service. mom had stayed home sick, and so dad said that as long as we stuck together, we could walk home. my lousy, stinking parents always stayed forever after church. you would think that church is about relationships or something the way they would carry on with people afterwards. give me a break. so we walked home to find mom fast asleep in her room. i don’t remember if it was my idea or peter’s. i’m pretty sure it was his, at least that’s the story i’m sticking to. but we decided to trash our house, make it look like a robbery. it seemed brilliant. dad would walk in, scared to death that something had happened. then we would jump out and scream “GOTCHA!” and he would laugh. we’d all laugh. and we would go down in history as pranksters above all pranksters. that made perfect sense to us, so we started to trash the place. we flipped over tables. threw magazines on the floor. tipped the couches over. set the house on fire. actually, we didn’t do that last one. can’t go too overboard. we even put a steak knife into the ketchup bottle and put it on the floor to make it look like blood. brilliant, right? right? with our house freshly demolished, we ran to our room to await dad’s return. we laughed and were so excited for a few minutes. but then i remember this feeling. this feeling in my stomach that said maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. i forgot about the fact that my dad loved us and might think we were dead or kidknapped. i forgot about the fact that my mom had stayed home from church, and he would be terrified someone had hurt her. we didn’t really think through the ramifications of our brilliant decision. but it was too late because dad walked into the house. all i remember was him yelling for my mom at the top of his lungs. i could hear his footsteps running from room to room looking for her frantically. it was about this time, i decided to lay in my bed and pretend i had been asleep. after all, it was all pete’s idea anyway. i still remember pete walking out of our bedroom and saying, “hi dad” as if nothing had happened. thinking back, i think that is the funniest moment of the whole thing. but when pete confessed it was our doing, the metaphorical poopy hit the ceiling fan. i don’t remember our punishment. i am pretty sure that i’ve blocked it out for sanity reasons. but what seemed like a brilliant idea that would serve pete and i well for 10 minutes of hilarity hurt and terrified my dad. i still say it was funny. it’s my dad’s fault because he just has no sense of humor..
you can’t please everyone. dad wasn’t happy. mom wasn’t happy to be woken up to my screaming father. i’m sure mark and keri-lyn had a moment of pure fear when they heard and saw my dad’s reaction. but me and peter were sure pleased we had gotten our way. until we suffered the consequences. now, putting my dumb story aside for a second, i hate that i can’t please everyone. i desperately wish i could. i try so hard, but it always gets me in trouble. you promise something to one person to make them happy, but it ends up hurting another. you say you’ll do something you really don’t want to do, and then you don’t do it and disappoint them. or you do do it (i just said do do) and grumble the whole time, with an awful spirit. i wish we could please everyone. i wish we could all get along. i wish dad had a sense of humor. i mean, all we did was make him worry he had lost half his family. HILARIOUS! no? oh…ok. i’m feeling the weight of disagreements at the moment, and i wish so badly we could all just do the right thing and that would make everyone happy. but what’s the right thing? who decides? the obvious answer for the follower of the way is Jesus. but who decides what Jesus thinks? you see, it’s tricky. i would personally say he always agrees with me, but that’s just me. you can choose to be wrong by disagreeing with me if you want. because we would all love it if everyone could be happy. but it’s impossible. everyone won’t be happy. someone will be hurt. others will be stepped on. words will be said that can’t be taken back. and all we can do is follow our conscience and be honest with one another. these are some simple ramblings from a tired mind on a tuesday afternoon. if any of you know how to make the world happy without excluding another, please let me know. i’ll even give you $5 if it works. that’s right, i’m a big spender.
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