Please do not read this blog for etiquette tips or how to properly host a Southern Living type soiree or have tea and mint julips with Southern ladies on the back porch. I mean, I assume you kind of guessed that by the picture that starts of the blog, but just in case there is ANY confusion, this blog does not provide any Southern Hospitality /Southern Living magazine type of guidance, oh and neither does the song.
Its Spring here in Georgia and when its spring I listen to Southern Hospitality, Ludacris (stop highlighting his name in red spellcheck person, that’s how he spells it!!) Style on my playlist. Essentially I am not “Overall Georgia” because I was raised in New England, so I have no earthly idea why I turn into a rapper when I’m jogging\walking while I got my jammed up beats just MURDERING my ear drums. Hip Hop/Rap music or whatever you want to call it, moves me, to move. If I need to exercise, I play it. If I need to clean the house, I play. If I need to go to the grocery store, especially in the spring and my windows are rolled down, Oh YEAH I crank it loud. So loud in fact, I tweeted on the subject matter: I luv that my bass is so loud it draws looks of concern. (hasthag! Bass, beezintthetrap, momswagger, momhumor smiley face emoticon)
Technically I am not DTP by jogging through my neighborhood with my dre beats glued into my innner ear canals. (disturbing the peace, term coined non other by the illustrious man pictured above, and am I supposed to capitalize Dre Beats?); yet sometimes, I wish I was DTP. Not in a war~like manner, more in a less~anxiety~ridden~housewife~in~the~suburbs~omg~why~dont~my~kids~listen~to~me~ever….type manner. As in, I need to freaking relax a little. I’m wound up pretty damn tight when it comes to all the “hously” chores and keeping my kids in~line. I need to lay off a little bit and essentially just join in the DTP mode with my gremlins whose motis operandi is to DTP at all costs.
Again, herein lies the oxymoron, polarizing personality within my soul.n I love extremely boisterous, or as the hipsters and youth pinpoint as “ratchet” music. However, I try to mediate every morning, and I cannot concentrate on any task if my kids are being “RATCHETLY” loud. It makes zero sense to me either as I tweeted yesterday “the rebirth of the BASS EXPLOSION in the springtime, is as intoxicating as the spring birdies”. I guess that truly sums up my personality, if one were have to tweet a 140 character summation of character.
Currently, the song I listened to on repeat today is “GET BACK” by Ludacris. In a nutshell, the moral of this song is “GET BACK GET BACK YOU DON’T KNOW ME LIKE THAT” , well take a listen. If you dislike profanity, maybe listen to the edited version. It’s a fabulous song if you are feeling boxed in and need some space.
I’m drawn to this song right now because I feel like everyone all up in my grill, lately. My woman’s group I attend to glean spiritual placidity (without sanctimonious religious overtones infused with hellfire & brimstone) would frown upon my “back the eff off” disposition; however writing is my salvation and maybe loud bass thumping music, “DTPing” in my ears, is MY salvation for peacefulness right at this very moment. I know right, I simply could not be more polarizing if I tried.
Well, as the “Stay Thirsty my Friends”, dude and Ludacris says, in so many words..May you forever keep disturbing the peace in a manner that brings YOU PEACE. Peace Out Bitches.