Hip Hop Hobblin'

I could be in a dead sleep but put on Busta's "Put Your Hands Where My Eyes Can See", and you'll get at list one fist pumping in the air. On a good day, I'm shaking my hips- the good one AND the one that aches right before it rains. That's what good hip hop does for me. The lyrics incite reflection, laughter, and learning. The beats move my body almost involuntarily as I scream out, "Heeeeeey"!. I have been loving on and listening to hip hop for almost as long as I've been living. This is probably the main reason for this post.

Since I've arrived in the thirty somethings, I've been wondering if I'm too old for hip hop. I've pondered giving up my shell toes, turning in my bucket hat, and listening to nothing but the sweet, sweet sounds of the Isley Brothers. The stuff I hear on the radio exhausts me and I am almost guaranteed to hate the latest popular rapper. I don't want to Dougie, do the stanky leg, or Superman a ho. However, every time I hear Electric Relaxation I'm reminded why I stay. Hip Hop is amazing and it is a representation of my life from childhood to the ripe old age of ...{inaudible}. Besides, I feel obligated to share what happened before everything got watered down with my little brother. At 18 he has an expansive knowledge of old school hip hop and current underground artists who are still representing the world of hip hop in its most raw form and I like to think I had plenty to do with that. There's something about putting on some Dilla tracks and watching his face light up that reminds me why I love it so much and why I'm not quite ready to give up my bamboo earrings (at least two pair).

I suppose in the end I'll be one of those older people standing in the back of a show, away from the "babies", hands in the air, bifocals on, wearing a big rope chain and shaking whatever is left. I plan to keep my hand up for hip hop for as long as I can.