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March 4, 2010

I do this almost every Spring. The iPod gets dusted off and I’m outside with the workout playlist on. All of the sudden I find myself transformed into a tight Apple-jeans wearing, new weaving strutting, cocoa butter smelling, crunking self. I’m not pushing a jogging stroller – I’m stepp’n sideways down the sidewalk. Yep. This white suburban mommy gets fired up over Tupac.

When Danny was in Iraq for his third deployment I binged on Tupac documentaries. When I go through this phase I have to re-mourn his death. I wish I was Black. Now I feel guilty for enjoying it while living on the East Coast (Tupac, I lived in Northern California for about four years, does that count?). His lyrics are nothing short of brilliant. He was an amazing artist, powerful revolutionary, wayward spirit, profound poet, beautiful man, and nothing gets at me like Tupac.

(I know all you want is Naftalie, but I’m seriously in a Tupac high right now (so much so that it’s clouding the self-awareness that would otherwise warn me not to publish this)).

5 Comments leave one →
  1. millison permalink
    March 4, 2010 10:15 am

    It’s awl gud, gurl. You shake it like it’s hot! Love me some Tupac. And I love having a brilliant, broad minded, creative daughter in-law that likes to get her groove on when the mood hits her. You’re so awesome.

    PS: I dare you to submit a video.

  2. brady permalink
    March 4, 2010 12:32 pm

    oh man, nothing gets me hyped like california love turned way up.

  3. Dennis permalink
    March 4, 2010 2:58 pm


  4. Sheryl permalink
    March 4, 2010 3:58 pm

    Love this!! I’m with ya, Shannon. Love me some crunking, funky music!!:)

  5. March 7, 2010 5:21 am

    hahahahaha this is awesome. I don’t know why, but there’s a little bit of this in all of us Carmans. Did I tell you that some good friends of ours, who are black, gave us a bunch of baby clothes for Ruby and in the bag were baby Apple Bottom jeans?!

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