I want to become a yogi. Isn’t that what they call people who are masters at yoga? Yea, I want to be one of those. I do not like to excercise. Yoga is one form of excercise that I wouldn’t mind doing on a regular basis. My problem? I have no clue how to do all those poses! I also can’t set up a regular schedule because work consumes my life. I have a groupon for 8 sessions of hot yoga that are sitting in my email collecting dust. I have to work on this. I need a nice tone body by mid-June. I need to be banging by July. I think I may start doing some Netflix yoga to get the ball rolling. Is there yoga on Netflix?
I’ve loved the movie Love Jones ever since the first time I watched it oh so many years ago, but I’ve never been explain why when asked. You’d be surprised how many times I’ve been asked. Yesterday a homie of mine finally put words to my inarticulate thoughts. I love it because of “that balance between courting, game, love and pride.” It’s realistic. Sure, I love Love and Basketball, Brown Sugar and all of the other black love movies that came out when they were the trending topic of America. But all of those movies have some unrealistic element. Granted, that element makes those movies just a little more exciting. I’ll stick to my real life scenario.
I want to take an Afro-Jazz or Afro-Cuban dance class. Adding that to my summer bucket list, which is already pretty long. Sleep will not be a close friend of mine this summer. I’m fine with that though, we have cold winter months for sleeping.
I’m going to straighten my hair soon. It hasn’t seen a flat-iron since I cut it all off in the spring of 2008 and rocked the fade joint. The only reason that I have decided to allow heat to touch my kinks is because I need to get my ends trimmed by a professional. If I’m going to spend money at a salon, I should go all out right? Right. I’m going to put the process off as long as possible, but my hair is going to rebel against me soon.
I experienced my first not so great concert at the Childish Gambino show in Baltimore the other night. It wasn’t him, he was great. In fact, my crush on has escalated to a Code 10: Crazy Fan. The crowd is what made the experience one that sucked. Those white people just stood there!! Literally! I’ve never been to a concert where the audience did not vibe with the artist. They didn’t sing the words, jump, clap or even wave a hand or two. Such a disappointment. I hope I never have to suffer another lackluster audience like that. Poor Childish still told them that they were one of the best crowds so far on his tour.