I’m a Cancer and I’m sensitive about my sh*#

I can close my eyes and imagine myself as a late 90’s EBadu wrapped up from head to toes and glowing.  I’d be silent, waiting for the crown to hush…”shhhhhhh”…thinking “I’m about to drop some deepness”…music comes in…enhale…”I’m gettin’ tired of yo shit…”

“Tyrone” was an insane song for many reasons.  Reason #1 for me?  She laid it all out there and it was funky, shit-faced funky.  If I had an alter ego, EBadu would be an inspiration (I’d name my alter ego Erykah Marie or Teena Badu, betcha can’t guess another alter-ego-inspiration).  Because, as I am the quintessential emotionally intelligent Cancer, I am also not that open.  Hell, I’m more likely to play host inside my shell than to come out of it.

You see, Miss Badu was brave just putting it all out there.  Her disclaimer, “Keep in mind that I’m an artist and I’m sensitive about my shit,” would have caused me to think twice then exit stage left.  Do you hear me?  Deuces.  Take off my head wrap.  Remove my ankh bracelets.  Put on my some sweats and call it a night.

BUT here’s the rub.  There’s just some stuff I need to get out into the ether.  I don’t mean that to say that what I have to say needs to be payed any attention to, or that I have some Earth changing revelation to bestow on the masses.  I’m just saying that between my head and my heart and my journals and my iPhone, I am running out of space.   I’m a little cooped up.   And, well, I’m ready to crawl out of my shell and purge a bit.  I just wanted to let you all know so that you can keep in mind…you get my drift.

Granted, I’m writing this as if it’s my first blog post.  I’ll just call it my “disclaimer after the fact”.  Count it as another rambling of an emotional intellectual.

While you’re here, and in cased you don’t know that song I’m referencing:

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