Express Life, Word prompts

Moon over water | Reflecting

In response to this week’s word challenge – Reflecting.

A shot of the moon taken by my best friend of ten years who has mental illness. « Sometimes, we get caught up in the process of trying to find who we are — our purpose and value in life — that we tend to lose sight of what’s important, » she says. « But what we often forget is that our light has already been made for us long before we were even born. »

FUN FACT: There is actually a word to describe the road-like reflection of the moon on water — MANGATA — and it’s Swedish!

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Express Life, Now Playing

A most misinterpreted song: Push by Matchbox 20

She said « I don’t know if I’ve ever been good enough
I’m a little bit rusty, and I think my head is caving in
And I don’t know if I’ve ever been really loved
By a hand that’s touched me, and I feel like something’s gonna give
And I’m a little bit angry »
Well, this ain’t over
No not here, not while I still need you around
You don’t owe me, we might change
Yeah we just might feel good
I wanna push you around
Well I will, well I will
I wanna push you down
Well I will, well I will
I wanna take you for granted

Matchbox_20_-_Push

Recognize these lyrics? Yes? No?

They’re from Matchbox 20’s 1997 hit ‘Push’. It’s one of the band’s most popular (and misunderstood) songs.

Yes, as the lyrics and the song title suggest, it is a song about a man being physically abusive towards his partner. Yes, it’s about a man who wants to take a woman « for granted » and push her around.

Or is it?

With an album cover of five guys brimming with conceit in their eyes, this 20-year old song sparked controversy and outrage among feminist groups when it first came out. Labeled as a ‘misogynistic’, groups of feminists once tried to ban the song because it encouraged violence and hatred towards women. However, this didn’t stop the song from hitting the top of the Modern Rock Tracks and thus, became one of the American rock band’s most successful singles.

Upon learning that people’s interpretations of his song somehow didn’t align with his original intentions, Matchbox 20’s front-man Rob Thomas stressed the importance of ‘reading before reacting.’ He spoke in an interview that the man in the song (possibly Thomas himself or some fictional dude) is the one being abused physically and emotionally. It’s the man who is experiencing the suffering. It’s the man who is being pushed around by the girl.

What’s that, Jodie? I hear you say…

Read the lyrics again.

The guy is basically narrating what the girl said to her throughout the entire song, making it as if these were his words. Lyric-wise, this is actually a creative way of conveying a strong message to the listening public. Notice how the song starts with « She said… » This goes on for the rest of the song. Thomas said so himself that he turned around the song’s viewpoint to make it more creative and interesting. This subtle nuance, which most  people failed to see pushed the song along the long lines of misinterpreted lyrics (No pun intended there). Still not convinced? Watch the official video and you’ll see Thomas in a dark alley playing with a stick puppet, his face buried in his hand, busking, in chains and in a room with no windows at all. The video has barely anything to do with being abusive towards women. It’ all about emotional manipulation.

Now, I’m not taking sides here. Well, okay. Matchbox 20 is a classic favourite of mine, but I was also victimized by this song. I was only a pre-teen when I first heard this song. Initially, I fell in love with the melody, especially the intro’s guitar riff. In fact, it was one of the driving factors behind my passion for playing guitars. However, as I matured I, too, jumped down Thomas’ throat. I came to the point where I even questioned myself for listening to this type of song.  It was only recently did I learn the true meaning behind this controversial song.

So guys, read before you react.

Simple as that.

Express Life

This Is My Love For Words And How I Wish I Could Have Few With You.

The Oxford Dictionary defines ‘word’ as a single distinct meaningful element of speech or writing, a unit of language comprising inflected and variant forms.

I love words. Words like idiosyncrasies, cantankerous, schlep, philocaly and petrichor. I love words that pique my interest, curiosity and inquisitiveness. We all use words to express our sympathy, empathy and gratitude towards others. It goes without saying that it is through words, countless sermons and discourses that famous people became, well, famous.  Not to mention Martin Luther King, Jr, Barack Obama and Malala Yousafzai. And even the worst speakers out there gain recognition through their poor choice of words.

We all started as novices in speech, with each one of us starting with mere babbles. But as we grow and develop our speech and language skills, babbles slowly turn into words and then into sentences. I was only 8 months old when I said my first word. And when I started school, I was elated about the prospects of learning more about the ABC’s, sharing them with others and most importantly, finding ways to build a solid foundation of learning for the little me. When I got into middle school, words came to me at every direction – good, bad and neutral. I learned more about nouns, adjectives, the language, the culture. Words. I learned to love words. I was only 7 years old when I nailed through every single quiz bee within our school. And when I had the privilege to go to high school and university, I learned to love them even more. I learned that embezzle is a bad thing. But I love the word because it sounds like bedazzled. Although I wasn’t as intrepid as other kids were, I still love it because it means to be resolutely courageous. I love words like oblivious, obsequious, panacea and impeccable. Deride, despot, diligent and lithe – jubilant is the word to describe my zeal for unwonted words.

And maybe, true love.

Now in my twenties, when I meet someone I always interpret their character through words– whether they are demure, modest or eloquent and feral.  Whether or not they are erudite, maverick, meticulous or venerable. But no biggie because I don’t just judge people based on my own words. My own discernment. After all, the way we talk is just the tip of the ice berg. I just love to play with words. I mean, where would we all be if there had been no words at all? Words are friends, but they are enemies too and so you ought to learn how to be careful with them.

As I grow and mature every day, I also learned that words are powerful and difficult. And problematic if not thought through. I often find myself in times of predicament and when I do, I’d become taciturn, but not impertinent. Inevitably though, words do have the potential to vex someone or worst, someone dear to you and me. And when they do, I just cannot seem to find them – or the right ones, at least – to compensate for the jarring, inharmonious and relentless words that flew out my blabbermouth like endless rain. And suddenly, I become morose and lethargic. But I remain optimistic, hoping that one day you will accept my arsenal of apologies. Of words.

And if only I could have a few with you right now.

Reblogs

My Neighborhood Is Becoming Gentrified By Jobless, Selfish Assholes

Hmm. Whatcha guys think?

Thought Catalog

Flickr /  Alex SchwabFlickr / Alex Schwab

A bunch of white kids moved into the apartment below mine last month. There was something I didn’t like about them right away, something I couldn’t figure out, which I unearthed tonight as they threw a raging party. The narrow hallways in my building smell like weed, their friends keep paging my apartment by accident, there are people shouting on my stoop after one in the morning.

It’s obvious: These kids have no respect for anyone but themselves. They don’t have jobs, they run a “recording studio” out of the basement. They unsheathed dad’s credit card like a shining silver sword and butted out the black and Hispanic families that live here, a full hour outside Manhattan by train.

I was uncomfortable being on the front line of gentrification when I moved out here a year ago, realizing as I lugged my bed halfway up the…

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