Category: Raw

Raw

Jazz

FanTC

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Mm, baby, that's soul.

A friend took me to my first jazz club last Monday night in Chicago. I have been introduced to jazz on and off through the years, but being the humble music listener that I am, I never understood the history or prestige surrounding the genre. So we walk into this little club. It’s dimly lit, yet you can see the beautiful artestry depicted on the walls. Mood lighting illuminates these paintings, lamps are hidden behind architectural accents. There isn’t much room. Beside the bar, there are only a handful of tables and a few chairs in front of the stage.

My friend explains the structure of the music and that each instrument will play solo from the others throughout a single song. We sat beside the drummer which was a great choice because that boy was on fire. I was so impressed with his skill. True to my friend’s words, the next hour was audio delight. The pianoist/vocalist was a bomb, that sax so sweet, the bass pleasantly deep, and, as earlier stated, the drummer was amazing.

I really enjoyed myself. It was a great experience and I’d love to go back, or maybe find something in my area. I have tremendous appreciation for music and love learning something new.

I feel kind of old talking about jazz like this which is…you know…your grandma’s soul music. Lol. There were a lot of grandparents there that night, bless their beautiful hearts. But I’m so in with that crowd! Send me back to the 60’s, baby!

Fanny T Crispin

Raw

Gardens – Real and Imaginary

FanTC

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Spring has arrived. The memory of winter is melting into the forgotten realms. It is this time of year that I feel the most creative. I get out and dig my hands deep into the soil, sow tiny seed pods, and let the water from the hose run down my arms. The sun is warm and not yet hot. Strong winds fill the trees and rustle unfurling leaves with an impatience I myself feel during this season. I impatiently await sprouting flowers, I hover over wet soil for green shoots, and I keep myself from picking at weeds-or-could-they-be-flowers? plants.

My flower garden is small. Because of my impatience and visionary expectations, it is mostly filled with figurines. Mushrooms, pinwheels, gnomes, fairies, and–yes–even a garden wizard I found on clearance one autumn day last year. Although, clearance or not, I was going to own that wizard. I see strange plants coming up and can’t identify them. This frustrates me to no end. I keep checking and re-checking them for signs of familiarity, but there are none. I want to pluck them out, but I refrain, because they might be the very thing I intended.

Although, most likely, they might be weeds.

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It’s this spring time season that turns my thoughts to the imaginary. I dream of fairies, watch them flutter in my peripheral, and longingly stare at the landscape to catch a glimpse. As a child, I fanciful named myself a female Peter Pan (he was played by a woman all those years), and that same refusal to age bred within my spirit. I’m still a twelve year old child. Sure, I work three jobs, pay bills, and can drink alcoholic beverages when it strikes my fancy, also coffee, but when I lay my head down at night, listening to the lull of leaves brushing against my pirate ship tree house, I return to my youth.

I account this to the reason that I write young adult books. I never cared to even read adult fiction. It’s surprisingly different from YA and I found it doesn’t capture my attention. I read books that I can fly through, ones that set my spirit free. In like manner, I write the books that inspire my inner Pan. Life is too short for serious stories.

I’ve had people judge me accusingly for not reading certain books–“classics”, or other worthy works of literature. The truth is, I hate it when people force their interests on me. I try very hard not to do it to them, because they might not be capable of appreciating my same ideals. With some cases, they just might not have time! In like manner, it’s difficult for me to enjoy a work of literature when it is being shoved in my face. With that being said, please, share you book loves! But respect my decision if I choose not to read them. One book will not a life-long friendship make, and neither will it tear asunder a preexisting relationship.

So when it comes to the books I’ve written, you really won’t find me harping on them too much. Within my writerly circle, yes of course I’ll want to expound on the latest plot or character development, but so do we all. I won’t beg you to read my books, or tell you how amazing I think they are. Your time is valuable to you, I want you to read a book for your own interest, on your own time, so that you’re able to enjoy it. And if you love the book, if my words made you laugh, or shiver in excitement, if your imagination ran wild even for a moment, than that’s all I need to hear. What makes you happy, makes me happy. Because that’s how the world was meant to be–putting others before thine own self.

In the words of Ellen Degeneres, “Be kind to one another” and Dream Big!

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Fanny T Crispin

Raw

Not Complaining

FanTC

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You know when you start to post that status or that blog and all you do is complain and you know you’re complaining, but you’re going to post that status or that blog anyway? I try not to do that. One negative thread leads to another. It’s a thorny path. With no roses. I almost had a moment like that. I was writing up a storm and it was depressing. I was tired of writing that. I realized I like reading uplifting blogs, not depressing ones. How much more would I enjoy writing uplifting blogs?

***

I’m still figuring life out. I’m a young author, I still have to work two jobs. I’ve only been blogging for a few years and recently took it seriously. I’m learning and growing.

But on the topic of being young, all you single people out there who relate to the above picture, raise your hand. Yeah. That’s what I thought. Doesn’t it drive you crazy when people accuse you of being single? What if you simply don’t have time for a needy companion and you’re totally okay with it? Who are they to say you should be something you’re not? I look at the couples around me and, I gotta tell you, it looks like a lot of work. And I’m not a domestic girl either, I’m an artistic soul (which is a nice way of saying I am messy and eat ready bake pizzas on paper plates way too often).

All this to say, I’m okay with my singleness. That doesn’t mean I don’t get lonely or wish I could snuggle up in big, safe arms, I’m not saying that. But I’m happy. I’m happy when I go home and can visit with myself. I’m happy when I look at my schedule and don’t have to worry about making special time. I’m happy with and by myself. So after years of struggling and heartache and nights of loneliness and finally, finally being content with my life, why would I want to change that?

Concerned individuals, please, I don’t need a man to define myself. I already know who I am in Christ!

Free bird.

Settling. That’s a scary word. Have I settled? Sometimes I think so, sometimes the religious world says you should be making big, scary changes. It says you should dump your life and become a vagabond giving the gospel in some jungle somewhere across the world. Which is legit, I guess. It is the great commission, after all. But what if my jungle is right where I’m at?

I recently watched the new Avengers movie The Age of Ultron, which was amazing, and I turned that post-amazing excitement toward reevaluating my life. Movies that make me stretch my imagination remind me there is a spiritual battle all around us, in a plain of existence we can’t always see. So on the way home from the theatre, I was listening to KLove on the radio and Francis Anfuso came on with his snippet of inspiration. This is what I like to consider as God-moments. While I was questioning my Christianity and fruits of the spirit, Anfuso said this,

There are three questions each of us ask ourselves everyday: Am I enough? Do I have enough? Have I done enough?

Am I enough? Is fed by our insecurities, and can only be answered when we receive our Creator’s approval. Do I have enough? Is fueled by our fear of tomorrow, and our insatiable appetites. And lastly, have I done enough or not done enough? Is stirred by the guilt of unachievable ambitions. The truth is, when God is enough for me, I realize I am enough for Him, I have enough in Him, and I don’t have to do enough to please Him. He’s already pleased.

Fanny T Crispin

Raw

Break Downs in the Raw

FanTC

I had my first melt down at work last week. A full year in the month and I managed to hold out this long. I survived the Christmas season, I survived nights of angry, unhappy, and vengeful people. I don’t normally post about my miserable experiences in retail, but this story must be told.

I went into work feeling good. It was going to be a good day. In fact, it was a good day. I was in full humor and ahead of schedule for my closing duties. So what made this incident so special? It was the last hour. One could say this woman tipped the scale, but it would be more accurate to say she kicked it over and then stomped on it for good measure. At that point, I just stopped caring–about her, about retail, about chores or customers or the last hour dragging by like a lame sea lion. I got her out of my line, and I made it. As soon as she was gone, I couldn’t hold it together any longer, but it wasn’t like I could run off to an empty aisle to compose myself. No, I had a whole rush of last-minuters to contend with. Now this is why I hate retail–no one noticed. I have been deathly ill, I have been falling asleep on my feet, I have been in shaking in pain, and now I have been in the middle of an emotional melt down, and no one noticed a damn thing even though they had front row seats to me falling apart. Well, one woman noticed.

I finally got to the last customer. I’m wiping my eyes on my sleeves and trying to sound cheerful and pleasant, because the show must go on. This little Hispanic woman lays her items on my counter. I ring them up. I go through my standard speel. She starts to pay for the items. But then she stops and says to me,

Oh, you have allergies?

… … …

“Yep,” I told her. “I have terrible allergies.” Damn, awful allergies. Every damn day. 

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Fanny T Crispin

Raw

Internet Dilemmas

FanTC

So a few months ago my blog persona ceased to be ‘The Ginger Ninja’ and became the author Fanny Crispin. I did my best to purge the Ginja in my attempt at a new start. You know, rather than letting her float around cyberspace as a blank entity.

Guess who showed up today, out of the blue, when someone replied to her comment from eons ago. No, no, guess.

Yep. The Ginja’s back. I suppose you never stop being a ginger.

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Fanny T Crispin