Kanye West ft Lupe Fiasco - Touch the Sky. This song is what introduced me to Lupe Fiasco and he's my fav hip hop/rap artist. He doesn't sing about bitches in the club or how street he is by dealing drugs. He does address drugs, but he's a rapper who raps about social issues.
Touch The Sky (edited)
I just found out Lupe did a song for that god damn Twilight bullshit series of movies. And it's so commercialized, now I like the song because it's a hip hop/rock blend, but him doing crap for that sparkly vampire bullshit? I mean, I know he's getting major publicity for his new album by doing it, and I hope that's why he did it instead of selling out. I know sometimes you gotta do crap to get to where you're going, especially in something like the music biz. I'll post my 3 favorite Lupe songs, just cause.
This is one of my favorite Lupe songs because of what it is saying. It's called American Terrorist, and it's basically a commentary on how for very long time white America has been terrorizing the world and even other Americans because of skin color.
So this next song I have a story about, but let me set the song up. People argue what this song is about, most people says AIDS because of all the illness and such references. And they're wrong. Lupe has these songs that personify social issues. The Cool is a gangbanger/crack dealer who got shot and killed but came back as a zombie. All he can do is the same gangster shit he did before, repeating the same phrases and such. A commentary on how trying to chase being "cool" in the streets can fuck up who you are or get you killed. The Game is a personification of drug use and buying/selling, specifically crack.
To get to my point, there's one last personification, The Streets. The ghetto, the hood, poverty, the living conditions, etc. In other words, the way of life in those conditions. She's the wife of The Game, which makes sense. If you're on the streets you're in the game/drugs, if you're in the game/drugs, you're on the streets. So this song, Streets On Fire, is about that. The story I have is me and a friend of mine, who we call Spud, did this song as a duo for a battle of the bands fundraiser for autism research last year. Spud is a white guy, but he can sing, and WELL. Of course he's in college for that so makes sense. I can sing alright, but not like him. Both of us are decent with computer graphics and such. So for our performance, we made this video of The Streets, as a woman and as Lupe describes her and in the background is a ghetto neighborhood that's been left smoldering, no signs of life, the sky is that weird color when you see it through smoke, she's front and center. It looked REALLY good. The video matched up with the song, when "streets are on fire" was sung, The Streets would shoot fire on screen, but it manifested as tissue paper fire on stage in a specific place. (Having friends in theater is nice sometimes. :P) Now, we took everyone off guard, not just with our effects, but our song setup. See, the chorus is sung, then Lupe's rapping for the verses. We did the start of the song, which is sung, like a duo and standing next to each other, even though I was singing more background. So just before when the first verse starts everyone, including our friends, had their eyes on Spud. But *I* step forward a step and rap. Our friends and some other people stood up and there was roaring applause, because holy shit Aeris is rapping, no one was expecting it. So Spud is off to the side during the song to sing, and as I rap I'm moving around dodging the "fire". At the end the chorus is sung 4 times, so what we did was each chorus a wall of "fire" came up, and I was trying to avoid it but get trapped in this square of fire. I hang my head, then there's a puff of smoke where I disappear, but I've just gone off stage. In our video though, you see an animated me held by the throat by The Streets and she's laughing, the idea being she got yet another victim, then she disappears in a burst of animated fire taking me with her.
Very cool, and really only took us like 12 hours total to get the fire, smoke and video done and lined up with the song. We won that shit a few times over, lol. Each award you got was a donation to a charity of your choice, and ours was autism research of course. 1st place, 2nd place etc in each category, i.e. hip hop duo, acoustic solo, acoustic group, etc. had a certain amount of money that would get donated to your charity, the better you did, the more you got and it was paid for by the entry fees and admission fees. We won our category hip hop duo, we won all the best of awards that applied to any category, we won best of show too. We racked up like 2k for our charity. Plus the whole social commentary hip hop, and the fact I was rapping and do so better than I sing I think made the whole event wild. I lost the video we made on a HD that died not 2 months after buying it. :( Ah well, you get the idea. Here's the song:
Last song is about child soldiers. All that really needs to be said.
I took this pic on campus on some time ago, and forgot I had it. While cleaning out my Droid pics, I found it and it resonated with me just like it had before.
I'm not sure if it was intended as a political message, a comment about anarchy maybe, or whatever. It hit a personal chord with me. Mostly because it reminded me I learned that lesson over the past year or so. The only thing stopping me was me, and all because I had this mindset of what I could and could not do. Or even who I could or could not be. As soon as I realized that was horseshit, I took off like a rocket. The hardest, but most important, idea I had to break myself of was that depression is something that's your fault and your problem. That you have to keep it to yourself and suffer alone because no one wants to be burdened with your bullshit. The fuck was I thinking? Previously, I'd requested Wellbutrin as an antidepressant but got put on Celexa because the doc said I didn't really want Wellbutrin. Yeah, that didn't end well. I wound up suicidal off and on and quit Celexa and that doc after maybe 3 months.
April 2nd, 2009. The date is seared into my mind because my life and my self changed that day. I walked into the student health center on campus because I was really struggling, it was my first semester at UNM, I wasn't doing so hot in classes, finals were coming up and I was panicked, and I was mired in the worst depression of my life. So I went in and talked to Dr. Williams, who got it, and got me, right off the bat. I asked for Wellbutrin, and got it. I also made an appointment with my PCP, Dr. Mpoy, who is this charming and entertaining black guy from Africa. I love Dr. Mpoy appointments because they're fun.
Anyways, Wellbutrin did it. SSRIs never did anything good for me, but Wellbutrin works on dopamine to correct a dopamine imbalance. For months I HATED myself for not insisting on it sooner. In about a week it was a brand new me, I was sincerely happy and motivated. I tried to correct as much as I could of my grades, because previously I just felt like giving up, like I couldn't do it. The doc said give it 2 weeks to work, but it worked just about right away, however I gave myself 2 weeks to adjust before making any other life changes. Besides, 2 weeks would be 4/16, and I do like the number 4 :P.
I've never talked about this much here besides maybe vague references. It's, well, personal. It's one of those sorta taboo subjects no one likes to talk about because everyone is sensitive about it. I'm referring to my weight. Depression is a motherfucker. See, my depression was caused by dopamine issues. Guess what stimulates dopamine? Eating. But by doing that you gain weight because you have to eat a lot and often to get a decent effect. My weight was a direct reflection of my battle with depression. I was LOSING. I also was just hurting myself and self destructing. My highest weight was 251. I did NOT wear it well. I was pretty self conscious and extremely self loathing. I weighed 250 on April 2nd. I focused on classes and letting myself get used to the meds for 2 weeks, and told myself to not weigh myself during that time. To just focus on feeling better and getting my shit on lock. On April 16th, 2009, I started an Excel spreadsheet to track my weight, and I decided to start a jog/walk program along with having my personal trainer. I weighed in at 231.9. 18 pounds in 2 weeks. I was encouraged. I hadn't even started working out yet! I was just eating less and was so much more active. Also the Wellbutrin leaves a vile taste in my mouth that took some getting used to so I was eating really lightly there for a while cause otherwise food + that taste = the pukes.
Yesterday was 11 months since I started. Because of the template I used, there's 4 spreadsheets currently. I will hit my one year on my 4th spreadsheet (I like that). There's 5 columns, date, my weight that day, the prediction of what my weight would be based on average loss so far, how much I lost each day, and total loss/gain so far based on the values on just that spreadsheet. I weighed myself every fucking day. I set a goal of 200 pounds by my 26th birthday. I hit 204.9. Close! For all kinds of reasons, like my knees most importantly, I told myself I wouldn't start hardcore running till I hit 180. I did jog/walk still to build up strength though. First day of class last semester was 194.9. Once I got under 200 the loss slowed down a bit. Which was fine and probably best since I had less reserves to use.
I hit 180, 180.3 actually, on October 12th. However, I didn't start running then because Warren and I were having a month long blowout and between that and classes I just didn't have it in me. Didn't care to a large degree. October 15th, Warren and I stopped speaking, he even changed his phone number kind of not speaking. I was completely destroyed. My grades had been sliding, and I had all Cs at the time, which was just about midterms. For those of you who are observant, my running blog started two days later on the 17th. I needed a coping mechanism. It used to be food. I decided this time it would be running, specifically marathon training.
I slowly built up my running strength, and when I started running I felt better mentally. That next Monday I threw myself into running and getting my grades back up. I needed the distractions, but I also needed to keep going. This Aeris doesn't quit. I brought my grades up, ended the semester with a 3.75. Began the new year 164 pounds. Faster and stronger. Smarter. My confidence was obnoxious. But I could back it up. I could run about 15 miles in one stretch with not a lot of issue. Was running about 40-50 miles a WEEK. Still missed Warren. Asshole.
As I lost the weight I started being more social, went to basketball games, got involved on campus, etc. Also started getting A LOT of attention from guys. Confidence got even more ridiculous. But, again, I could back it up. :) Dressed cute but comfortable. Took better care of me all around.
The past 11 months have been wild. I went from an overweight, anti-social girl who struggled to maintain a 3.0 and was still changing majors all the time, to well, Aeris. What Aeris should have been all along. 3.75 GPA last semester, social, outgoing, looking damn fine thank you, knows exactly what she wants to do in life and is headed there like a bullet train, 6x honors, drives a cute car and has a cool phone, has completely reconciled with all of her family especially her brother and dad who are now two of her loudest cheerleaders, makes one hell of a ninja in her running gear, beats bad guys senseless, and smiles quite often, mostly to herself or for no reason in particular. My life, although I have my struggles, is pretty enviable. Even just parts of it are, grades, weight loss, car and so on. But that I got all of that and then some, man, I feel lucky as fuck. A year ago I was EIGHTEEN INCHES bigger around on my torso. Holy shit.
I'm glad I did all the strength training I did to build up my upper body strength and hell lost the weight and got faster movement and reflex-wise. That whole scene with the burglar could have gone a lot worse and I not have much chance. The fact there was two grown ass men who probably could have taken me down, but once I laid into one the other one ran like a bitch, that makes me smile. I'm strong now. Strong enough to scare a career criminal into running away from me. Probably all the other fighting I got myself into helped too. I mean, I got a quarter sized bruise, this guy who was a stocky and a well built grown ass man who is a career criminal, got a broken jaw, 2 black eyes, 4 missing teeth and a few other teeth broken, nose broken, a few swift kicks to the balls from a girl who has rather large leg muscles from running and various other bruises. The fact I HAVE that kind of strength now impresses me. The fact that in a bad situation I came out on top because of it impresses me. I impress myself with my physical strength as well as my mental strength. My brother still high fives me about it and jokes about it. Like he was in the way when I was trying to open the fridge and he said "I'm so sorry please don't hit me!". My brother could probably beat my ass, but I'm glad we're on the same team. It's nice he, without saying it directly, compliments me on being strong and smart. About a year ago he hated me and told me he didn't want me here in ABQ. Now we're close friends like when we were kids.
I've come so far in just a year, hell under a year. There's a reason the white shirt I wear over my running gear says "She's A Fighter".
Cause I'm badass. I don't even think I need to prove it anymore. :)
~A.
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