Your Love is Mine

Speaking of Corinne Bailey Rae, I heard a song featuring her today that I had never heard before. It's by The New Mastersounds, on their album and it's called Your Love Is Mine. Very fresh sounding.

Corinne Bailey Rae Emerges

Corinne Bailey Rae's debut album is still in heavy rotation in my household. Her songs are like moonlight. I was saddened to hear when her husband died of an accidental overdose in early 2008. Not much had been heard from her since then, but an interview has surfaced with her. She looks lovely as ever, beautiful hair growing out, sad eyes with fleeting smiles. She's working on her 2nd album, and I am very excited to hear it. Here are some excerpts from the interview:



Corinne went home to her house in Leeds and began writing songs, just her and her acoustic guitar. One of the first she finished was called The Sea, a powerful elucidation of loss that was based on a family story that had been passed down to her about her grandfather's death in a boating accident. It climaxes with the lines, "The sea, the majestic sea, breaks everything, cleans everything, crushed everything, takes everything from me."


She says now, "I don't know if there was something in the air or what, but the songs seemed different, a bit darker. With The Sea, I was just thinking about loss, about the impact losing your father would have on you as a child, how one event that big could colour your life, bleed into everything else and force you into a certain shape."

Another song she wrote around that time was called I'd Do it All Again. It was written after an argument with her husband, Jason Rae, a gifted jazz musician who often played saxophone in her band. It was a testimony to the strength of her love for him, a song about how nothing, not his restlessness or the occasional rows it precipitated, could ever make her question that love.


"It was written literally just after me and Jason had this massive disagreement, a big argument, a bad one," she says now, faltering. "Almost as he was leaving the room, I just sat down and wrote it. It's just about how I felt about him at that time. Even right in the middle of the worst times, I remember thinking that I would choose this exact life again, that I would do it all again. It was me saying, I'm not wishing myself out of this situation. I'm 100% committed to this person. I don't have any regrets about this relationship even though there are all these difficult times."


I'd Do it All Again begins: "Oh, you're searching for something I know won't make you happy/Oh, you're thirsting for something I know won't make you happy…". It sounds now like a plea, a calling-out to someone to accept the life they have been given. "I just wanted him to be content," she says.


She wrote I'd Do it All Again in January 2008, and "just kept on writing and trying out ideas". Then, on Saturday 22 March, she was in a taxi in Leeds when her phone rang. A voice she did not recognise said that it was the police, that they had been trying to contact her all day, and that they needed to speak to her in person.



The police asked me to meet them at a certain place so the taxi had to do a U-turn and go back the way we came," she says now. "I always think of that moment when I had to turn back. My life was going in one direction, then, in an instant, it was turned around."



The coroner's report found that Jason Rae, aged 31, had died of an accidental overdose of methadone and alcohol. The coroner described Rae as "a naive user", which brought a strange kind of comfort to the young widow who was struggling to make sense of a death that seemed so random, so senseless. "The word 'naive' jumped out at me," she says. "It's like Jase was playing with something he didn't know the consequences of. He was impulsive, I guess. He liked to have a drink, have fun. It could easily have turned out to be one of those stupid, drunken things you do that you get to talk about afterwards – 'You'd never guess what I did when I was pissed?' – that sort of thing. It's unbelievable that this one didn't turn out like that, that this was the drunken, curious thing that went wrong."



In the living room, she picks her way through guitars and amplifiers, and sits down at a piano in the corner with Steve Brown. As he plays a slow meditative melody, she sings I'd Do it All Again. It is breathtaking; sombre but defiant, and imbued with a whole other layer of meaning – and longing – since Jason's death. It feels almost as if I am listening in on someone singing to herself.



"A year ago I could not have imagined going out and playing these songs live," she says afterwards, "but now I'm looking forward to it. I want to play live as much as possible. I want to get to that place where it's just coming through. It's not a performance, it's not self-conscious, you're outside of time, outside of yourself."


Later, I tell her that the "before" songs have now come alive in a different way, maybe because she is singing differently, inhabiting the songs in a much more forceful way than before. "They have," she says, "they definitely have. What surprises me most is how the songs I wrote before it happened resonate almost as much as the ones I wrote after. The circumstances have cast it all in a different light. It began as a 'before and after' record, but it's become an 'after' record."



For a long time, she continued to refer to her late husband in the present tense, seemingly unable to grasp that he was gone for ever. About three months after his death, she tried to record some of the songs she had written, even turning up at a studio to meet a producer. "I laugh now at how deluded I was," she says. "I felt like everything would somehow go back to normal if I got on with things but, in reality, I was still in shock."


Then came the strange inertia that grief instils in those left behind, the long, terrible numbness that is, in itself, a kind of death. "I didn't do anything for a year. I mean, nothing," she says, still sounding as if she can barely believe it. "Everyone was asking, 'What have you done?' But I had nothing to show them. I didn't go anywhere. I didn't write anything. I didn't work. I sat at my kitchen table for a whole year, people came and people went, life drifted by. It was just bleak. Bleak."


Did she think that she might give up music altogether? "I did think that I could never do this sort of thing again because if anyone asked me about Jason, I would just explode. For a long time, I didn't even try and write. It was just too big a thing, too raw. It was just too destructive to make anything creative out of. All I wanted to do was destroy things. And I'm really not that type so it was all these emotions that were totally alien to me. It was just a bleak, empty, hollow nothing."

Earlier this year, though, Corinne began tentatively recording again. She had started writing after playing a few low-key club gigs at the end of last year. The intimacy of that set-up had led her to Limefield Studios, where she has worked at her own pace for months now.



Most poignant of all, though, are a pair of songs written in the wake of her loss: the plaintive Are You Here? and the slow-burning I Would Like to Call it Beauty. The first is a love song, or, more precisely, a lost-love song. It begins, "He's a real live wire, he's the best of his kind, wait till you see those eyes!" When I ask her about it, she says, "I actually don't remember writing it. That was one of the songs that just came through. It was like I was wishing him here. It's a song about grief and loss and that's really what the whole record is about. It's like I want to tell people about this thing, this thing that I could not make sense of and could not find anything I could read, or listen to, that would help me make sense of."



Anyone expecting the same kind of well-wrought, if hardly challenging, pop songs that made her debut such a big seller is in for quite a surprise. In her place is a singer of immeasurably sad songs, someone who has transmuted her well of grief and anger into something beautiful and raw. "I definitely feel more serious," she says. "I feel more impassioned. I have total belief in these songs and when I sing them in front of people, I want to pass that on. I don't think there is anyone of my generation saying these things, singing about these things. And it happens, you know. It can happen to anyone at any time. I want to be out there on stage with my hands out going, does anyone else feel the same way? That's what it's about, too."



Full interview and a video clip here.

Twins Getting Crunk in Indian Village

THEY'LL KILL US ALL!!

Walk around Kodinji village and you'll think that you have double vision. The village is home to as many as 230 sets of twins. Nobody knows why there are so many twins in the village of 15,000 people, although one local doctor suspects it might be due to the water.

In fact with about 35-45 twins per live birth, this village in North Kerala, India, has four times more twins than normal. Not surprisingly, the village has been dubbed "the twin village." The latest official estimates by the Kodinji's Twins and Kins Association (TAKA), which conducted door-to-door surveys at the start of the year, found that there were 204 sets of twins.

Based on births since the survey was conducted, there are probably now around 230 sets of twins in the village, locals said. That number is set to rise as there are five women pregnant with twins.

Full article here. P.S. Read the last sentence of that linked article. That was a non-sequitur like a muhfugga, wasn't it? Like, did the author have no other possible way to end the story?

Eric Frimpong

Peeps, I feel so sick inside when events such as the following occur in this country. Progress is progress, but too many people--and specifically, minority racial group people, fall through the cracks (or get stomped through them, it seems). This is a long read, so take the weekend if you need to. However, I implore that you read the whole case. Share it with a friend. Post it on your blog. Don't be silent if this moves you. If it doesn't move you, maybe you're just used to it; too far gone over the bitter fence. If there's another reason, please share. I have pasted excerpts from the article to give a more concise version of the following case:

Eric Frimpong was an immigrant from Ghana who came to the US recruited to play soccor at his college. He was accused, convicted, and sentenced for rape based on virtually no evidence but the victim's testimony, who herself was heavily intoxicated and admitted to not having much memory of the night, AND with evidence of her boyfriend's semen on her panties the night of the rape. I have pasted excerpts from the article to give you a somewhat concise understanding of the following case:


Back in Ghana, in western Africa, he and his three younger siblings were raised by their mother, Mary, in the poor farming community of Abesin, but her job as a typist with the government forestry department allowed the family to have plumbing and electricity, unlike many of their neighbors. Eric was an engineering major and a midfielder for Kwame Nkrumah University of Science and Technology, in Kumasi, when he caught the eye of UCSB assistant Leo Chappel, who attended a 2005 match to scout the son of a Ghanian pro but ended up offering a scholarship to Frimpong instead.


Everyone around Frimpong was buoyed by his success: his mother, friends and classmates, prominent locals who had helped him out along the way with invites to dinner, rides to the store and, when he struggled with homesickness during his junior year, a fund-raiser that yielded $3,000 for a ticket to Ghana. "We all tried to pitch in, because Eric's so darn likable," says Tim Foley, a booster who made Frimpong a regular guest at his family's home. "He was an American success story."


The Monahans were especially proud. Frimpong had met his "American parents" on move-in day in 2005, and they promptly invited him to spend Thanksgiving in San Diego. They gave him his first cell phone and laptop and took him on family vacations. They sat in their kitchen for hours listening to his stories about Ghana. They were also impressed by his knowledge of the Bible, and his quiet spirituality helped bolster their own faith. "He was going to graduate, play professionally, make more money here than he ever could in Ghana and bring it back to support his family," Loni says. "Eric really had it all."


Frimpong's journey from soccer hero to convicted felon began a little more than halfway through his senior year. (The account that follows is based on police reports, interview transcripts, court proceedings and comments from trial observers.) The night of Feb. 16 began for Frimpong in the same place where he started most Friday nights, on the couch in his house at 6547 Del Playa Drive, watching a movie with housemates. His girlfriend, Yesenia Prieto, was working late, but Eric had reason to celebrate, fresh off an impressive 10-day tryout for the Wizards, so he showered and went to meet friends at a party at 6681 Del Playa Drive. It was outside that home, at about 11:30 p.m., that Frimpong met Jane Doe, a UCSB freshman. They struck up a conversation, then walked back to his house to play beer pong. They arrived just before midnight, and Eric introduced Jane to his roommates before taking her to the patio, where the two of them played beer pong for a few minutes until, according to Frimpong, Doe said she wanted to smoke, so they headed for the park next door. At the park, he says, Doe approached another male, who appeared to have followed them. When she walked back to Frimpong, she started kissing him, but he wasn't interested because she smelled of cigarettes. Doe became aggressive, he says, and stuck her hand down his pants. He pushed her away, then headed to the home of his friend, Krystal Giang, who'd been expecting him. By 4 a.m., he was in bed at Prieto's apartment.


About an hour and a half earlier, Jane Doe, accompanied by her sister and two friends, checked into Goleta Valley Cottage Hospital emergency clinic, claiming she had been raped. She was transferred to the Sexual Assault Response center downtown, where a nurse discovered a laceration to Doe's external genitalia and bruises on her body, findings consistent with sexual assault.


"Yesterday was a really good day," Doe told sheriff's detectives Daniel Kies and Michael Scherbarth when they arrived at her dorm room the next morning, according to a police transcript. The reason for cheer: The 18-year-old Doe had just regained her driver's license following a juvenile DUI conviction. At around 9 p.m. on Feb. 16, she went to a party. After stopping at a second party, Doe left the group and headed for a fraternity bash on Del Playa. "That's where I saw the guy," she told police.


From there, Doe's story is mostly consistent with Frimpong's, up to and including their game of beer pong. "He was really nice," she said. But their accounts differ sharply after that. According to Doe, the next thing she remembers is being on the beach, where the nice guy turned violent, knocking her to the ground, striking her in the face, holding her throat and raping her before fleeing. Having lost her purse, Doe walked to Del Playa, where she stopped a passerby, student Justin Hannah. Using his cell, she phoned a friend, her father and then her friends, who picked her up around 1:30 a.m. Doe, who admitted to drinking heavily throughout the evening, couldn't remember anything between stepping into their car and going to the hospital -- a period of one hour -- but her friends would fill in the blanks: At first Doe didn't want to go to the hospital because she was worried about getting in trouble for drinking. But back at the dorm, her friends kept urging, and she relented. Sitting with the detectives that morning, she described her attacker as a black male who spoke with an "island accent" and had "big lips" and short hair. His name? "Eric, I think."


Sometime around noon on Feb. 17, Kies and Scherbarth spotted Frimpong hanging out with friends at the park on Del Playa. When Kies asked if he would accompany them to the station to talk about "what happened last night," Frimpong agreed to go, despite being unsure what the detective meant. Once at the station, Kies reminded Frimpong that he had come voluntarily and asked him to describe what he'd been doing the previous night. According to the police transcript, Frimpong told Kies about watching a movie at home, then going to a party and eventually meeting Doe, whom he described as one of the "random soccer fans," and playing beer pong with her before heading to Giang's house and later to Prieto's. Kies then asked for Frimpong's consent to collect the clothes he'd worn the night before. "Yeah," Frimpong responded, "but I still don't know what's going on." Kies explained that the girl said that they'd "had sex" on the beach. "Wow," Frimpong responded. Kies then informed Frimpong that he was being detained and read him his rights. Minutes later, he explained the rape accusation. "I didn't have sex with her," Frimpong insisted. Charged with felony rape, he phoned Paul Monahan, who spread the word. Vom Steeg couldn't believe it: "I'm thinking, Frimpong? Rape? No way." (The coach later asked Frimpong directly. "I said, 'Eric, is there any chance you had sex but you thought maybe it was consensual?' He said, 'Tim, I never pulled my pants down.' I said, 'If you did this, DNA will prove it.' He said, 'Coach, I'm not stupid.' ")


When the test results came back in March, Frimpong's DNA hadn't been found on Jane Doe's clothing or body, but Doe's DNA had been found on Frimpong: in two nucleated epithelial cells, found on his scrotum and penis, and in an unspecified trace under his fingernail. (Epithelial cells are found inside the body and in body fluids like mucus, saliva and sweat. These tested negative as vaginal cells, but such tests can be inconclusive. When the case went to trial that November, the defense argued that the findings were consistent with Frimpong's claim that Doe had grabbed his genitals.) Also, semen found on Doe's underwear didn't match Frimpong's -- but it was a match for that of Benjamin Randall, Doe's sexual partner throughout her freshman year.


Despite having DNA evidence matched to him, Randall was never a suspect. Neither was the man who retrieved Doe's purse, which she said she'd lost either on the beach or at Frimpong's home. It was delivered to the sheriff's department the next day, minus $30, by someone described in the police report as a "can recycler." But because of a "language barrier," he wasn't questioned. Frimpong was the only suspect, even though there was no apparent sign of sexual activity -- no blood, semen, vaginal secretions -- or any scratches or other telltale marks of rape on his body or clothes. The absence of abrasions was odd. Doe told authorities she was wearing a "thicker ring" on her right ring finger and that she hit her attacker so hard, "all my knuckles were screwed up." There was also very little sand found on his clothes.


Throughout the investigation and during the trial, Doe admitted to gaps in her memory. In her interview with detectives, she claimed she had consumed "a couple shots of vodka" before leaving her dorm. In an interview that April with assistant district attorney Mary Barron, the lead prosecutor, Doe said she'd consumed more throughout the evening. "I know I had beer," she said. "And I know I had rum." She also acknowledged that her memory after beer pong was hazy. "That's when it starts to, like, cut out," she told Barron. According to the transcript, Doe had little memory of going to the beach, and her recollection of the rape itself was scattered. Asked whether she recalled going outside to smoke, Doe said she "probably" smoked but didn't remember when. "I don't even know, since there's that chunk missing."

So what happened on the beach? Doe said Frimpong may have tried to kiss her, but when pressed by Barron she admitted, "I have no clue. I'm just assuming…" She also said, "I remember him biting me on my face," even though she had told the emergency room doctor she thought she'd been hit, and when questioned by detectives, she said she didn't know about being bitten. Doe continued, "I saw him, like, feel around -- take off his belt -- or something on his pants -- I don't know." She said she remembered being penetrated, and "it felt like a penis." Barron asked if the attacker was the same person she'd played beer pong with. Doe said that while she couldn't recall going to the beach, she remembered the attacker's accent, his eyes ("They were white") and his lips ("They're big"). She was also fairly confident that the rape lasted "15 minutes at the most… but then, since there's that huge chunk of time that I don't remember, it could be anything."


Many of Frimpong's supporters believe that race is at the heart of the case. Santa Barbara County has nearly 425,000 residents, but only 2% are black. "I love this town," says Foley, a resident for 30 years, "but there's no question there's racism here." Thanks to Frimpong's celebrity status, he wasn't flying under the radar. "I'm 100% convinced that they were going to nail this guy before he walked into the station," Foley says. (At the trial, Burns testified that in a Feb. 22 phone call from Kies, the detective asked her to expedite her usual process, reminding her that this was a "high-profile case.")


The jury began deliberating on Friday, Dec. 14; the next Monday, just after 3:30 p.m., came the guilty verdict. On Jan. 31, 2008, with Frimpong in jail awaiting sentencing, the defense filed a motion for a new trial, citing several factors, including a development with the jury: In a written declaration to the court, juror Ann Diebold stated, "I regret the decision I made in finding Mr. Frimpong guilty." Among her many points was the court's refusal to provide the jury with evidence they had requested for review, including Doe's testimony and Frimpong's interview with Kies -- the latter because some jurors stated that they wanted "the opportunity to hear Mr. Frimpong's side of the story." (They were read only Doe's direct testimony, without cross-examination, because Judge Hill said "it would take some time to gather the additional information," Diebold wrote.) Diebold also claimed that the jurors rushed through deliberations so they could conclude the case by the Christmas holiday. "I felt pressure from the judge and other jurors to reach a verdict by Dec. 18," she wrote.

Sanger's motion was a last-second heave, but it allowed him to put his own forensic dentist on the stand. Defense expert Charles Bowers fell ill during the trial and was unable to testify, but at the hearing on Feb. 28, he delivered his opinion: Frimpong's teeth could not have made the bite, but Randall's (the victim's boyfriend) teeth could have. As Bowers spoke, there was a buzz in the gallery. But Judge Hill was unmoved. He began the hearing by saying that in his 27-year career, "I've not seen a rape case with so much incriminating, credible and powerful evidence," and ended it by dismissing the motion. Three days later, he sentenced Frimpong to six years.


"It's a terrible thing that happened to me," Frimpong says. "Being in here, I keep asking myself why God put me in that situation. And then it struck me: Maybe I can reach more people, help more people, if they hear my story." His supporters say it's working. "All you have to do is look at Frimmer's camp -- he hasn't lost anyone," Vom Steeg says. "In fact, since the trial, he's actually gaining supporters." In Ghana, Frimpong's plight is well-documented by the media. In Santa Barbara, people continue to proclaim his innocence, even when it's not easy to do so. After writing several opinion pieces in the local papers, Kim Seefeld was inexplicably subpoenaed to appear at the hearings on the motion for a new trial. (She was never called to testify.) "I got harassed by the DA, subpoenaed and threatened, all because I stuck my neck out for someone I believe is innocent," says Seefeld, who plans to continue her writing. "That's what happens to a citizen who dares to question our justice system in Santa Barbara."


And then there are the letters from all over the world, many containing donations. "These are people who don't even know Eric, have never spoken directly to him," Loni Monahan says with awe. "Eric was born to be a pro soccer player, but he's realized he has more impact in the direction he's going. There's a groundswell going on." The key addition to Team Frimpong is Ronald Turner, a Sacramento-based, court-appointed appellate attorney who has filed the opening brief in an appeal with the Second Appellate ­District of California. The process gives Frimpong hope.

Full article here. Originally peeped here.

Uganda Bravebirds

In a land far away where the sun doesn't spare a soul
And a twisted tradition has a girl in a strangle-hold
Lies a desert with the footprints...of little girls with a secret
Of a pain, that you and I could never know



Uganda's President has banned the practice of Female Genital Mutilation (FGM), or female circumcision. This practice is done on young girls with a crude, often unclean knife or blade with no numbing or anesthetic, often removes the clitoral hood, and/or vaginal lips, and often is stitched back up into a small opening. This cultural practice transports them into womanhood and makes them marriageable, from what I understand. I have read often that the subsequent pain is supposed to ensure the woman's faithfulness, as she will not seek out sex for pleasure thus ensuring the husband's paternity and control/domination over his wife. Complications include reduced-to-no sexual pleasure, infections, pain and possible life-threatening complications in childbirth, maternal and infant mortality, and increased susceptibility to diseases such as HIV.

Little feet running fast as they can like a bird in flight
Through the sand with the fire in the sky and the indigo nights
She ran away from a life spent...being witness to other unwilling participants
Of a pain, that you and I could never know

The song in this post is attributed to Waris Dirie (but also others like her, I'm sure), who underwent FGM at the age of five years, and fled from an arranged marriage at the age of thirteen years to London. She has written an internationally bestselling book about her life and worked on a film of the same subject. She became a supermodel and is still an activist against FGM.



As she speaks you can tell that the words are not easy to say
Cause they have the power to transport her to that impossible day
But she hasn't any regrets, cause she won't become a woman with a secret
Of a pain that you and I could never know

Several other African countries have officially banned FGM, but in some countries apparently, the practice is still rampant. This seems really difficult to police effectively, but I truly believe just recognizing the dangers and human rights violations of this practice and stating sanctions against it is a hugely important step for women. Awareness is key so I think this is a giant leap forward every time a country bans it. I am always respectful and mindful of other cultures but I do think a line has to be drawn when it comes to blatantly harming, disabling, and often incapacitating another human being for the sake of marriageablility and womanhood. If there are those more knowledgeable on this subject, I invite your thoughts as well as those of all my readers.

You're a bravebird...of the rarest kind
You may be one of the walking wounded...but still you fly
You're a bravebird...you put yourself on the line
When you shared your secret with the world...you saved another mother's child

Peeped here through here.

Bravebird - Amel Larrieux

Arab, Middle-Eastern...White?

I have always been fascinated by multicultural studies and racial/ethnic classification. One under-studied facet of race has been the racial/ethnic identity of Middle-Easterners and Arabs. The United States officially classifies people from these regions as white. However, I have never thought of them as what we consider white (although some do "look" white), and I am willing to bet many of you haven't either.

Discussions on race/ethnicity are of course always based on the foundation that race is a social construction. We know this, accept this, and move on. But operating within and under this social construction, there are still many valid points and feelings because self-identity is a crucial component of individual and societal development.

I recently read an article about Middle-Eastern and Arab students applying to UCLA and not having an option to check the racial/ethnic classification they were looking for. Most did not identify with being "white" so some checked other options. Here are some quotes from the article, in italics:

For years the federal government has classified Arab Americans and Middle Easterners as white. But confusion and disagreement have led some students to check "Asian" or "African," depending on what part of the Middle East they came from. Some, like Salame, simply marked "Other."

This is interesting to me because if you think of countries and regions usually associated with the Middle East (including but not limited to Afghanistan, Iran, Iraq, Jordan, Kuwait, Lebanon, Saudi Arabia, Syria, and Yemen), you rarely hear them in the context of the continent they are situated in; they are usually mentioned as a totally separate entity from Africa or Asia.

The UCLA students said having their own ethnic designation goes beyond self-identity and has real implications for the larger Arab and Middle Eastern communities.

The "white" label can hurt them with universities and companies that use the information to promote diversity, they say, and can result in the gathering of little or no statistical data on important issues, such as health trends in the community.

The Arab American Institute estimates that including Middle Easterners in the white category on the census has led to a population undercount of more than a million, said Helen Samhan, who works at the institute. There are more than 3 million Arabs in the United States, the institute says.

I also feel it's important to make a distinction between Middle Eastern and Arab people because not every Middle-Easterner is Arab and not every Arab is a Middle-Easterner (North Africans, etc.). Also, people further assume Middle Eastern and/or Arab equals Muslim and that is not always the case either.

I feel that we, especially in the United States, have a lot to learn about the nuances and distinctions between people of Middle Eastern or Arab descent and issues of racial and/or ethnic classification and self-identification. What comes to your mind when you think of Middle Eastern people or Arab people? Do you agree with their classification in the United States as white people? Why or why not? I also welcome any discussion/enlightenment from people more knowledgeable than me on this subject.

Pygmy Jerboa

As cute as this little Pokemon-looking creature is, if I saw homie hobbling through my hallway my first instinct will still be to reach for the nearest flamethrower (yes, I have several flamethrowers, don't you?). When my husband and I saw this, we were expecting it to attack the camera and then you would just see blood everywhere for no reason. But it didn't. What a cutie!

Pygmy Jerboas are apparently the smallest rodents in the world and are found throughout Central Asia.

Originally peeped here via my husband.

Let the Right One In

I recommend you see Let the Right One In. It's a Swedish vampire film about love, friendship, fear, and loneliness. It is not a typical vampire movie where the violence and gore take center stage, and that is part of its charm. I love films that are magical aesthetically, and the Swedish setting and cold environment is shown off beautifully. The main characters are children which makes the story that much more haunting. This instantly became a favorite movie of mine. Here is the official website. You can buy, rent, or Netflix it now. Here is the official trailer:

Dog Tells Owner She Has Breast Cancer

Look at the expression on the dog's face. He's like, Yeah that's right bitches. I smell cancer. Tell all yo' homies bout me.

From the article:

When her normally boisterous dog Max began moping around the house, Maureen Burns wondered if he was coming down with something.
But it turned out she was the one who was sick - and she believes the nine-year-old collie cross was deliberately acting out of character to alert her.
After Max began sniffing Mrs Burns's breath and then gently nudging her right breast, the 64-year-old examined herself and discovered a small lump in the same breast.

Mrs Burns said: 'When the nurse told me I had breast cancer my first response was, 'I know, my dog told me!'. I expected her to laugh but instead she told me she had heard of similar cases.
'Max is usually such an excitable, loving animal but he became very sad and had stopped doing all the things he used to - such as sharing our bed or jumping on my lap for cuddles. Instead he would touch my breast and back off unhappily.'

She said she finally realised there was something wrong last May when Max watched as she examined herself in the mirror.

'As I felt it I just happened to look over at Max, who was lying on my bed. Our eyes met and I just remember he looked so sad.
'I knew in that instant that something was badly wrong.'

She had an operation to remove the cancer, and is now in remission. When she got home after the operation, her dog was happy and jumping around like a puppy. Crazy, huh? Scientists believe dogs might be able to be trained to sniff out cancer; with their highly sensitive sense of smell.

Full article here. Originally peeped at Jezebel.

Suggest A Song Monday-Wake Up Alone

Good morning! Welcome back to Suggest A Song Monday. Here are the rules: I suggest a song that I love and that I think you would love. You listen to it. Tell me what you think in the comments. Then, you also recommend one song to me and I will listen to it and tell you what I think. You don't have to limit yourself to a particular genre, just any one song that you love.

Today we have Wake Up Alone by Amy Winehouse. The lyrics deal with a relationship that seems to be spiraling down quickly. The lyrics convey that feeling of having the heaviness of ongoing hearbreak and trying to do all you can not to think about it during the day; but at night the loneliness and emptiness wash over you; the lyrics are very creative and moving. The music and melody has that kind of 50's lounge, diner-esque feel.

Wake Up Alone - Amy Winehouse

It's ok in the day, I'm stayin' busy/Tied up enough so I don't have to wonder where is he/Got so sick of cryin'/So just lately/When I catch myself, I do a 180/I stay up, clean the house/At least I'm not drinkin'/Run around just so I don't have to think about thinkin'/That silent sense of content/That everyone gets/Just disappears, soon as the sun sets/(chorus) His face in my dreams seizes my guts/He floods me with dread/Soaked to the soul/He swims in my eyes by the bed/Pour myself over him/Moon spillin' in/And I wake up alone//If I was my heart, I'd rather be restless/Second I stop, the sleep catches up and I'm breathless/Cause this ache in my chest/Cause my day is done now/The dark covers me, and I can't run now/My blood runnin' cold, I stand before him/It's all I can do to assure him/When he comes to me, I drip for him tonight/Drowned in me, we bathe under blue light/Chorus

Goats!

In case you didn't know, I looooooove the Morocco aesthetic. I fantasize of turning my home into some sort of Moroccan lounge. In the book I have below, I saw the following picture:

Yes. There are goats in the tree. They are straight up having a goat festival in the tree. Apparently, this happens throughout Morocco. The goats say eff the grass and climb the trees to eat the leaves and stuff.

Fainting Goats

These goats have a genetic condition that causes their muscles to freeze up when they're startled. As they get older, they learn how to control it a bit.

Color My World

I want to share some photos of items from my home that illustrate my love of vibrant color and patterns.


Enamel jewelry box

Asian/chinoiserie style slippers

Mexican blanket I got on my honeymoon

Patina-tile mirror

Tiffany-style table lamp (I have 2 of these and 1 floor lamp)

Indian-sari table runner

Bohemian-graphic kitchen towels

Indian throw pillows

Dining room wall panel-My favorite is the second to last one on the right; the orange-brown panel where if you look closely, you will see a peacock.

Seeing all of these items with the colors/patterns grouped together is inspiring to me. I am a visual person and just the presence of multi-colored items comforts me and enables me to dream and do good work. What do you have in your home that inspires you?

I Love the 90s Friday: Deborah Cox

I have never had any beef with Deborah Cox's music. I feel with the right material, she could have gone very far. Not to say she hasn't been successful; because she has. This Canadian songstress has such a strong voice, and she is gorgeous. She is of Guyanese descent; apparantly Canada has a significant Guyanese population. I digress. Here is my favorite 90's song by her, Sentimental.

Under the Sea (and River!) News

Transparent fish






Since 1939, scientists have thought the "barreleye" fish Macropinna microstoma had "tunnel vision" due to eyes that were fixed in place. Now though, Monterey Bay Aquarium researchers show that the fish actually has a transparent head and the eyes rotate around inside of it.
Full article here.

Giant stingray caught




This baby-eating (baby-eating not verified) beast weighs 771 pounds and is 7 feet by 7 feet. It was found in a river. Imagine a mother-flippin' Yao Ming sized stingray coming atcha. Well, since it's 7 feet BY 7 feet, imagine TWO Yao Mings, coming at you in a T-shaped formation with vampire-like wings of death and a venomous sting on the butt. Full article here, originally spotted on Yahoo.

All of this supports my theory of a giant, possibly evil and soul-stealing octopus dwelling in the depths of the ocean somewhere waiting to wreak havoc. Soon my pretties, soon...

Whimsical Eye-Candy

One of my favorite inspirational blogs is My Marrakesh. Maryam and her family moved to Morocco to build and open their own boutique hotel called Peacock Pavilions. She has a wonderful way of weaving thoughtful words and magical images together and inviting readers into her life. For one of the boutique hotel rooms, painters from Modello Designs created this fanciful wall mural:

I have always been part-unicorn so I love this type of aesthetic. I can't wait to see how the room will look when it's completely finished.

The same painters created this floor design for Maryam's son's bedroom:

Love that they included a Barack Obama quote.

So creative, and just a perfect complement to a child's imagination. I think everyone could use an inspirational spot in their home.

Maryam's son is at the age where innocence can be harder to hang onto, and the cruelties of other children and life come into play. She wrote:

If only she could provide some protection against the hardening of his nine-year old heart.

Perhaps if he slept among the wise words, among the magic numbers, among the street signs, it would penetrate some how and leave an indelible imprint just below the surface……… for times when he felt lost in the maze of his little boy life…..

Click on the link above the floor design to see more of her blog.

Notes From The Weekend

Jesus Christ on a cracker. Back to your regularly scheduled blogging program.

*So I up and caught the flu for no reason. Or at least, "flu-like symptoms". How the hell do you know if you have the flu or flu-like symptoms? I am at the end now (I hope) and I thank you all for your well-wishes, especially ChocolateOrchid for checking on me periodically!

*I am the Natural Belle of the week over on Hairspiration, check me out! Thank you again for featuring me (it says natural for 4 years, but it's been 3 years and some change)!

*I watched The Wrestler, Bubba Ho-tep, and Pineapple Express over the weekend.
The Wrestler: Good movie, wonderful acting.
Bubba Ho-tep: If this isn't one of the brokest movies of all time, I don't know what is. That's what the appeal is though. I met my demise toward the end of the film where the villain/mummy starts cursing in hieroglyphics.
Pineapple Express: This movie was a tad over-hyped (and so unnecessarily violent, lol) but it did have its funny moments. "FUCK THE PO-LICE (in slow-motion)!"

*I have recently been in awe of all the big-ass pickup trucks I see driving around Houston. I mean like unnecessarily, Canyonero big. I am in awe because:
1. I wonder why I'm just now noticing all these big-ass trucks because
2. This MUST be a Texas thing right? MrsMaryMack, Tanijoy, Desiree, TheHoustonGirl, any other Texas lurkers help me out. Are ya'll seeing these too?
3. It makes me realize that not only does one country have a unique culture, but regions cannot be under-estimated for their own culture. Like seriously, you wouldn't see this in New York, California, Oregon, etc.
4. THAT makes me then wonder how much we underestimate other regional cultures of other countries. Vesper, does Canada differ noticeably in culture depending on region? What about England? I know Italy and South Africa do. What about Australia? Anywhere else?

That's all my congested ass can---wait that sounds gross. That's all my congested self can think up right now. Blogging shall resume! Have a magical day!

Obama Inspires Black Iraqis

I read a most interesting article on CNN a couple of weeks ago. The article highlighted the experience of black Iraqis (mostly male). This is something that I (and I imagine most Americans) never hear or read anything about. We hear about religious conflict all the time, but never consider the race problems other countries can experience. The article also reflects how much people in other countries are affected by stories in America. The fact that black Iraqis see Obama's rise to success in a foreign country and it gives them hope that their circumstances will change in their home country is amazing to me. Here are some of the highlights from the article:


BAGHDAD, Iraq (CNN) -- Their faces and darker skins make them look different. They are routinely called "slave" by the majority, whatever their profession. But Iraq's black population hopes that Barack Obama's rise to the White House will mark a turning point for minorities not just in the United States, but also in their country.


Jalal Thiyab Thijeel, general secretary of the "Movement of Free Iraqis," followed every detail of Obama's election campaign. "Inspiring," he calls it. Inspiring politically, and personally. Like Obama, Thijeel has family roots in Africa.



Thijeel's organization estimates there are approximately 2 million black Iraqis. The country's total population is more than 28 million, most of them ethnic Arabs. It's impossible to verify Thijeel's estimate, since the government does not keep statistics on race, but there is no denying there are many black Iraqis in the southern city of Basra.



Their history goes back 1,000 years to the time when Africans were brought as slaves to the south of Iraq to drain marshes and build Basra. Many Iraqis still call blacks "abed," an Arabic word that means "slave." Thijeel grimaces when he pronounces it. It's demeaning, he says, and he wants the government to forbid its use. Many white Iraqis claim the word isn't meant to offend, but Thijeel says they have no idea how hurtful it is. "I never want my son to go through this," he says.



The Movement of Free Iraqis was founded two years ago and on January 31 it will run the first slate of black candidates in Iraq's modern history. Thijeel hands me the party's documents that spell out its demands. Foremost is that the government recognize blacks as an official minority in Iraq. This is key, because power in Iraq is apportioned along ethnic, religious and even tribal lines. The party also wants an apology for slavery, although it is not asking for financial reparations. The movement also wants laws to combat racial discrimination.

Full article here.

New President, New America

How lovely and wonderful was yesterday? It was such an awesome moment to see all the people there to witness the swearing-in in person, and even to think of the millions who tried to catch the live feed on the internet at work (like me). I work at a university so it was nice seeing all the students standing up for the national anthem and just enjoying the moment. Also, seeing the faces of some of the older folks in the crowd and what this moment meant to them; I could almost feel what they were feeling. I am really excited about my country's future.

In natural hair news, did ya'll know Michelle Obama and her daughters are natural? They get presses instead of relaxers. I think this is just icing on the cake of being role models for black beauty in our country. I hope this inspires that certain number of women out there who want to go natural but still want the option of straight hair. Believe it or not, this option (though I don't personally recommend straightening hair) is healthier for your natural tresses than putting the harsh chemicals of the relaxer in your hair year after year. Look at how many of our older women either wear wigs or have thin, brittle hair. *steps off soapbox*

Michelle Obama was a goddess at the balls last night. That dress was beautiful on her. Again, I cannot stress how hopeful I am about this country's future (that was a complete non-sequitur, but just roll with it).

Sand!

One of my greatest goals is to see the world, like many people. I have many wonders that I want to see. I have a fascination with the different colored beaches that exist, and want to set foot upon one in each color. We all know about the white and tan sandy beaches, but I want to share with you the magic of the lesser-known colored beaches. Join me, won't you?

Black sand beaches

These are found throughout Hawaii's Big Island. When I visit Hawaii, this is the island I want to experience first. It is not as touristy as some of the other islands, and many hotels do not have TV, phone, or internet. It's just you, your hammock, and nature. The black sand was created by the volcanic activity on the island; when the lava meets/met with the ocean. Black sand beaches are also found in Santorini, Greece.

Pink sand beaches

These are found in the Bahamas, specifically Harbour Island. I hope the next reuinion I go to in 2012 I can visit more of the outer islands, and Harbour Island is on that list. The pink sand is a result of the color of the shells of a microscopic creature. Check out these lovely pink sand beaches in Barbuda that Farsighted Fly Girl posted about. Pink sand beaches are also found in Bermuda.

Red sand beaches

This is found in Hawaii; Maui specifically. It's secluded and not really meant for swimming. Word on the street is nude sunbathers often visit here. Look at the gorgeous contrast with the ocean; I love it! There is also a gorgeous red-sand beach surrounded by breathtaking cliffs in Santorini, Greece.

Green sand beach

Another Hawaii beach--I am so wanting to do an island-hopping spree--this one is also on the Big Island. The sand gets its coloring from olivine crystals. This beach is supposedly difficult to access; a lot of hiking involved etc. If you have an adventurous spirit, this will be worth it. There are only two green sand beaches in the world--here and in Guam.

Slumdog Millionaire

This is my favorite movie of 2008 and one of my favorite all-time movies. The protagonist, Jamal, is a contestant on India's Who Wants to be a Millionaire? and he has answered all the questions correctly up until the final question for the big money prize. Officials suspect him of cheating and have detained him and torture him to figure out how he cheated. Jamal and the officials go through how he came to know the answer to each question and this takes the viewers through his life. This is a wonderful film about love, life, fate, and timing and it is beautifully done (I may be a bit biased because I love Indian culture). It is mostly in English and subtitled for the non-English parts. It's out in the theaters now; consider seeing it! I think you will really enjoy it.

Here is the trailer: