The Pods

_bonjour pod listThis is a screenshot of my bonjour availability/mood line resulting from a project at work where a co-worker and I were each in charge of one of the two teams that were assigned to the task. I believe our supervisor came up with the word Pod for each team and my co-worker and I, though thinking it was rather dismissive, ran with it. Each day we came up with a new name for our respective Pods. As the list shows I went the hip hop route. I, unfortunately, to not recall what theme my co-worker went with. A fun way to pass the time. Sorry it is so tiny.


Music To Turn 20 By: TwentySomething

Years ago my friend Nicole was driving us around one day during the two weeks or so between her birthday and mine. On the car stereo was a mixtape she had made to commemorate entering her twenties. I stole her idea and made one for my twentieth too thus beginning twelve years (so far) of making a cassette or CD to mark the passing of years. For my twenties, the series was dubbed “Music to turn _ by:_” with the appropriate number and title filled in (once I hit my thirties I thought I’d class it up and just go with a title). The song selection is usually based upon a mix of how I’m feeling at the time of production, how I felt about the prior year, and how I envision the upcoming year to be. First up is Music To Turn 20 By: TwentySomething.

Side A:

Bawitdaba ♦ Kid Rock

Under the Bridge ♦ Red Hot Chili Peppers

Rhythm Nation ♦ Janet Jackson

Roll With It ♦ Oasis

I Have Confidence ♦ Julie Andrews

Tryin’ to Throw Your Arms Around the World ♦ U2

#41 ♦ Dave Matthews Band

MMMBop ♦ Hanson

Fame ♦ Irena Cara

We Can Make the World a Whole Lot Brighter ♦ The Brady Bunch

Side B:

Roam ♦ The B-52’s

Send Me On My Way ♦ Rusted Root

The Circle Game ♦ Joni Mitchell

Don’t Stop Believin’ ♦ Journey

You Got Me ♦ The Roots ft. Jill Scott

Let Me Clear My Throat ♦ DJ Kool

Young at Heart ♦ Frank Sinatra

Dream On ♦ Aerosmith

Smells Like Teen Spirit ♦ Nirvana

Learning to Fly ♦ Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

Freshman Year Emcee

A smidgen blurry but that's me performing this.

A smidgen blurry but that’s me performing this.

My floor freshman year of college was a pretty dope house.  A large percentage of us got along, we planned some all-dorm gatherings, and we weren’t afraid to participate in University-planned dorm events either. For the dorm talent show, a fellow “east coaster” and I decided to write a rap to perform. I went to school in Wisconsin where the mention of someone being from New York (myself) or New Jersey (my co-emcee) would immediately meet stereotyping. It didn’t matter that I was from a small town and the Garden Stater from near Philly. Well I was tired of this so I incorporated my feelings into my verses of the rap along with some inside jokes from our floor.

I’m the L to the I to the N to the D to the S-A-Y/And I’ll tell you what’s down. I’ll tell ya what’s fly/Don’t worry boys. I ain’t shy. I get by/cuz I hail from New York/Upstate that is/not to be confused with that fucking NYC biz.

“Where you from?”/New York I’d say/’ssuming I drank Evian every day/But you know me/you can see/it ain’t true/I wear blue/not black fuck-me pants/I don’t call daddy at the first sign of ants/I proved you wrong/and if not, then by the end of this song/Where my girlz at?/hell no, not in the back/Yeah right up front. Paige and Sar-ah/shakin their asses like they don’t car-ah/On the dance floor they’ll sex you up/Hey, where’s Johrick?/Now tell me “sup?”

My home’s/The BLC/Livin’ on Elsom, the third story/Our house/always representin’/everywhere we go/you don’t even know/you have no idea/hey there at Frank’s I’ll see ya/

Sarah/ this is just for you/I to jog in the smog down by the bogg

This. This is the BLC/This. This is the BLC/This. This is the BLC

© copyright Lindsay M. Hinkle 2000

Evolution of an Office

Written for the enjoyment of my co-workers for my last day of work at the job I worked at for 4 3/4 years before deciding to leave. The name of the company has been changed for reasons one usually changes that type of information.

Walking into the Dairy Farm I may shiver from the chill and realize I can’t name everyone on the opposite side of the partition, but when I think back to the spaces that have housed Fake Name Communications, Inc., I’ll take the chill and nameless faces any day– after all there is a seating chart I can look at.

Almost five years ago I walked into the office on my first day and was greeted by Will Smith, Tommy Lee Jones, and Darth Vader. These celebrities turned out to be gatekeepers to a Jungle of tiny red monkeys hanging out not in a barrel but from a canopy of gray wiry cords where the natives flung not their own feces but rubber bands. Amid this chaos I was so inducted into the society of Crack Counters.

Soon the wilds of the Jungle were to be traded in for a shiny new habitat. Unforeseen exile, however, came first. Feeling like vagabonds we pitched our tents in the conference room below our Jungle. In the cramped confines of Camp, this brief period brought together neighboring groups and forced us to share everything.

One day Camp moved to the City of Towering Boxes in the garage of the newly built Tradewinds. It was spacious, gray, and unfriendly. Our group only interacted with former Camp-mates while waiting in line for the one functioning bathroom. We had to build great shields to be used against our new nemesis – the Afternoon Sun. The onset of the Dust Period is little documented, but those who lived through it will never forget.

The opening of bathrooms for both sexes harbingered the Big Move. Excitement mounted as our sun-blinded eyes were ushered into the soothing darkness of the Cave. The shadows promised cooler temperatures and victory over the Sun. Months passed. Our eyes continued to squint, now from the Darkness. The brightest area of the Cave taunted us, showing how time passed – in each time zone. Both the light and heat the Sun provided were missed.

The population of the Cave grew with a new society of Asset Extractors. The leaders of the Cave soon promised yet another home. We questioned this new home’s existence and speculated what perils we would face. We had already experienced the wilds of the Jungle, the unsettledness of Camp, the blindingly bright City, and the dark Cave. Our elders told the Extractors that hoping for better was a fool’s errand.

Those of us who first visited the new dwelling named Dairy Farm did not seem very confident.  There were murmurs of “too much light”, “too much space.” Once we moved, and our eyes adjusted, the Crack Counters and Asset Extractors took to our newest environment. In a matter of weeks we “Cave Dwellers” made the transformation into “Office Employees”.

Four and three-quarter years later I may no longer be greeted daily by movie stars nor know everyone’s name but my eyes are no longer squinting, my coat is rarely worn and like I said before, I can always check the Office seating chart.

© copyright Lindsay M. Hinkle 2011

LCD Series ~ Mix One

The LCD Series a.k.a. Lowest Common Denominator Series is my contribution to this mixtape group I am a part of. The first album has the theme of 2012 as we are just forming and wanted to start with a retrospective of our year and the year in music.

Call Me Maybe  ♦  Carly Rae Jepsen

Everyday (Coolin’)  ♦  Swizz Beatz ft. Eve

Make Some Noise  ♦  Beastie Boys

Daddy  ♦  Emeli Sandé ft. Naughty Boy

Whispering  ♦  Alex Clare

Lover of the Light  ♦  Mumford & Sons

Two Against One  ♦  Danger Mouse & Daniele Luppi ft. Jack White

Top Billin  ♦  Audio Two

Waterloo  ♦  ABBA

Someday  ♦  Middle Brother

What Doesn’t Kill You (Stronger)  ♦  Kelly Clarkson

Boyfriend  ♦  Justin Bieber

Three MCs and One DJ  ♦  Beastie Boys

Insane In The Brain  ♦  Cypress Hill

Domino  ♦  Jessie J

Go Girl  ♦  Pitbull ft. Trina & Young Boss

In Case It Doesn’t Work Out  ♦  Charles Hamilton

Grammar Hammer

(to the tune of MC Hammer’s U Can’t Touch This)

Can’t spell this/Can’t write this/Can’t spell this/Can’t write this

My, my, my grammar hits me so hard/Makes me say “oh my word”/Sentences be filling me/In my mind all these verbs I see/It feels good when spelled correct/Adjective, noun, or predicate/And I’m known as such/The Grammar Hammer, you can’t touch

I told you, schoolboy (can’t spell this)/Yeah, that’s how we scribing and you know (can’t write this)/Look at these words, man (can’t spell this)/Yo, let me bust the funky parlance

Give me a phrase or diction/Turn those toos to twos, did I mention/They’re not their/You listen to Grammar Hammer, he really does care/A Wordsmith and hip/A comma for the clause, don’t you trip/And do remember/A pause doesn’t mean one you must enter/Ante-cedent/Either work hard or you might as well quit

Yo, I told you (can’t spell this)/Why you standing there, man (can’t write this)/Yo, sound the bell. Grammar school’s in, pupil (can’t spell this)

That’s the word because you wrote…..

Can’t spell this/Can’t write this/Jot it down!/Stop. Grammar Time!

Every time you scrawl/The grammar’s got to be tight/I’m boss on the pen and I’m wicked with the type/Now why would I ever stop revising you?/With others making blunders, they just won’t do/I’ve taught around the slang, from fo shizzle to mmmkay/It’s “Grammar, Go Grammar, Grammar Hammer, Yo Grammar”/And the rest can go and say.

Can’t spell this/Can’t write this/Can’t spell this/Can’t write this/Can’t spell this/Can’t write this/Can’t spell this/Can’t write this

© copyright Lindsay M. Hinkle 2009