Sunday used to be my day. My little girl would go to church with her grandad and I would spend the morning chilling in pyjamas and listening to the silence of my calm, empty house. Then once that got old, I’d throw on the pink headphones and sing along to loud, endless rock.
Now, I have one extra baby and a mboch, so I rarely have the house to myself . The baby is my nephew, and he’s a pretty cool addition. He’s a happy little bundle, and everyone around him gets these wide unprompted smiles. He doesn’t seem to like me though. See, I’m the designated daddy figure. I leave before he wakes up, give him a quick hug when I get home, and pay all the bills while my ‘wife’ – #NoHomo – does all the cooking and the cleaning and the cuddling and the feeding.
On Sundays, my ‘wife’ – again #NoHomo – goes to do her churchy things, and I’m left with staring contests and the baby. I can feed and change and bathe him, but the neighbours always know when ‘wifey’ isn’t around because the baby stops laughing and starts … well … that other thing that babies do. Meh.
Anyway, today the weather was really bad, so the mboch chose not to go and do her churchy things. And since she’s really attached to the baby, she chose to keep him occupied while I kept myself busy harassing the Zuku guy. Story for another day. After he was gone, I was free to throw on the pink headphones, sing along to tuneless rock, and get some blogging done, so yay!
In slightly related news, I finally got ♫ Canon Rock ♫ as my ringtone. Yay! The only problem is … it never rings long enough for anyone to know what it is! So it sounds like my phone calls start with loud, long violins. Oh crumbs 🙁
One of my favourite rock songs is ♫ Place for my head ♫ by Linkin Park. There’s a line that goes ‘You tried to take the best of me! Go away!‘ The line is whispered four times with increasing intensity, then Chester yells it four more times, just to make sure you got the message. That man makes me sooooooo happy!
But not all rock songs rock … for lack of a better word. For example, ♫ All these lives ♫ by Daughtry was awesome until I figured out what it was about. Now it just makes me sad. ♫ Kangaroo cry ♫ by Blue October is depressingly sensible. And ♫ Crazy ♫ by Simple Plan is just plain annoying.
Here’s the thing. Rock is poetry, and poetry shouldn’t have to be explained. It should be intrinsic. Rock songs don’t say ‘You broke my heart, you cheated on me, how could you, I want to stab you, let’s go save the elephants!’ They say ‘Wanna put my tender heart in a blender, watch it spin round to a beautiful oblivion!’ They don’t say ‘He slept with my best friend and called his name, my life is over!’ They say ‘I’m six feet from the edge and I’m thinking maybe six feet ain’t so far down.’
They don’t say ‘Throw my pager out the window coz you’re buggin me buggaboo’. They say ‘Communication, telephonic invasion, it’s your fault I gotta screen my phone calls!’ They don’t say ‘I tried to call you and got so scared that I hung up.’ They say ‘I practised all my lines to the telephone while you were sleeping.’ They don’t say ‘I don’t ever want to see you again.’ They say ‘I forgive you! Forget you! Goodbye!’ So, for example, a song like ♫ Haemorrhage ♫ by Fuel is beautiful because it’s deep and dark and angstious, all full of symbols and hidden images, and it’s not until you watch the video that you realize it’s a song about abuse. Which, by the way, is why I don’t watch rock videos.
I sometimes wonder why I like rock music. Both my brothers enjoy it, so I suppose it could be how we were brought up. Sisi ni mabaabi, but one bro went through a ragga phase in high school, and the other has ‘eclectic taste’ that ranges from Trance to Zouk and Jannele Monnae. No, I have no idea what those are, but I find them on my computer each time he fixes something on it, so yeah.
In high school, rock was the in thing. Capital FM had just started, and liking rock was considered a PB Thing. But I soon realised that I knew all the lyrics to Capital songs before they started playing them so I suppose my love of guitars preceded FM Radio. Plus, none of my schoolmates still listen to rock. They’ve moved on to coffee house music and neo-soul. *shudder*
I still don’t know why I love rock so much. I suppose it makes me feel like the angstious teenager I never was. My brother keeps saying it’s not a sin to like other kinds of music, but I find that when I enjoy non-rock songs, there’ll be a guitar or snares or syncopated rhythms in there somewhere, whether I’m consciously aware of them or not. I do like Michael Nyman’s ♫ Piano ♫ and ♫ Nara ♫ by Posthumous, and there’s nothing remotely metal about them.
True rock-heads would call me a wuss though, because I can’t handle metal or kerrang, though I’ll admit it’s a really cool word. I don’t do mosh pits, gauntlets, black make-up, [any make-up!] Mostly I like alternative rock and Emo, which is the musical equivalent of saying that you enjoy hipster joints and indie films. *shudder* Plus, I mostly like bands from the nineties. These new guys are annoying, and they hang out with rappers way too much, as proved by the fact that Lil Wayne does guitars. *blink*blink*
What am I going on about? Nothing really. I’m just saying it’s Sunday, I have music, and I’m happy. It’s been a long time since I felt like this, and I’m totally savouring the feeling. The baby knows his ‘mummy’ is around, so he’s on his best behaviour. He’s actually been giggling all day, and he’s slept for the last five hours while I sang and typed away. I don’t envy whoever has the night shift with him … but I’m glad it won’t be me …. because you know … I have to be up really early … somebody has to put bread on the table! *insert evil grin* I am such a guy =)
Sometimes I worry about all my butch tendencies. But I don’t think I could ever be gay because, well, girls scare me. And the few boys that know me know I’m all pink inside, gutters notwithstanding. There’s one guy that turns me all mushy and feminine. When I’m around him, I’m giggly and flirty and he gets me into sundresses and everything, so I know he has a way with me. Now there’s a sentiment someone should put in a rock song. It’s just not the same when Shania does it.
I’d like to get that feeling of contentment. I’m not in a relationship, and God knows if I ever will be. But I like a boy who likes me back, though nothing could ever come of it. I have a job that’s mostly fun, though I wish I earned I whole lot more. I have a pretty, homely flat, but I wish I owned the title deed. I have perfect hair and perfect feet, but I wish that I had perfect eyes.
I want to learn to count my blessings … and to do it without thoughs and buts. Until then I’ll settle for the lovely lyrics of pre-fruit-nickname Gwen, as I Google the words and realise I’ve been singing them wrong for years! Oh well.
♫ Sorry I’m not home right now♫
♫ I’m walking into spiderwebs ♫
♫ So leave a message and I’ll call you back ♫
♫ Spiderwebs ♫ No doubt ♫
22 thoughts on “Of rain, mboches, and rock music”
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