music
And speaking of music (as I go for the second post of the day), I've realized home is where there's music. If music is playing (and I like it), I'm home. Last night walking through my neighborhood, someone was blasting hip-life and I felt safe. It's weird, but everytime our neighborhood is abuzz with music I feel soothed, and I feel empty when it isn't there.
AND I'm buying a dondu drum, a.k.a. a little talking drum. It's the one that changes pitch depending on how tight you hold the strings and it's used for that dance class last night I was writing about. So hot. It's 300,000 cedis, or about $30, so I thought, why not? I'd kick myself if I didn't do this.
So yeah... music is my happy place. My security blanket. Even in my own head... it's gonna get me through anything...
AND I'm buying a dondu drum, a.k.a. a little talking drum. It's the one that changes pitch depending on how tight you hold the strings and it's used for that dance class last night I was writing about. So hot. It's 300,000 cedis, or about $30, so I thought, why not? I'd kick myself if I didn't do this.
So yeah... music is my happy place. My security blanket. Even in my own head... it's gonna get me through anything...