just like Ice Cube...

...today was a good day.

This song is unlike any others from this time period- no champagne, no Lambo's, no naked chicks, just Ice Cube eating a good breakfast, driving around, and noticing how the just the simplest things are going smoothly, making his day great. Now, I don't live in South Central, I don't wear a bandanna (usually), and I don't have nearly as many problems as this guy typically raps about, but today was a good day, and this song epitomizes it.

Early Saturday afternoon, my friend Pat picked me up from house and what erupts from the speakers as we pull away? The steady beat of Ice Cubes good day. We then went to mini-carnival (where we saw some girl take a hard fall down a pair of stairs BUT somehow managed to only land on her knees and then magically jumped right up while holding drinks in either hand...carnies) and then had had enough of the heat and met up with our friend Sal. Pulling up in his truck, windows down, coincidentally enough, his speakers sang, "...today was a good day".

From there we went to an infamous place...the Westford Quarries. Now, I know it's illegal to go there and jump off (and with good reason because some idiots do get hurt and start fights or go there with bad intentions) but we only had the purest of intentions- adrenaline rushes and cold water on a 97 degree day. We trudged up a dirt hill, part of a construction site, muttering swears under our breath, my flip flops slipping on the gravel and rubble. Sweaty and panting, we finally reached the top. We began climbing up rocks and through the woods until we reached the highest jump-off point- 50 feet. No way. There was about sixty other kids there, some junior high aged, some college aged, all jumping off and screaming into the dark blue lagoon. I was one of 3 girls that I could see, and the others were just sitting watching, not partaking in this spontaneity. At one point three boys did back-flips at the same time from about 35 ft. up. Another brave, idiotic, boy did a gainer, a gainer, from the 50 ft. ledge. I started at about 15 ft. up, and with the help of almost everyone there cheering me on, I moved to the next highest, and then by the end of the day I'd made it to about 30 ft., definitely high enough and exhilarating enough for me. Pat and Sal jumped off the 50 ft. rock, both reassuringly telling me I could have their cars if they didn't resurface and sentimentally saying, "You know what to tell our mothers..." as they ran off the edge- boys. We swam around in the water all afternoon as the sun beat down on our shoulders. They pretended to circle me like sharks and then we all floated on our backs, eyes shut, as kids splashed down around us. We reminisced about college, how we were itching to go back, how gross the water probably was, how hungry we were. When we finally left my body was achy, my cheeks were pink, Pat's Air Jordan's were filthy, and I had a bruise on my rib-cage from slipping on a rock, but I couldn't find anything to complain about...well, maybe that it didn't last long enough.

today was a good day

Los&Tyga

In heaven...I just downloaded the eagerly anticipated mixtapes by Los AND Tyga, Worth the Wait and Well Done 2, respectively.
Los is an up-and-coming phenom from Baltimore with a strong following of die-hard supporters; who, as he says on his track "Say You Will", from the mixtape Welcome to Swaggsville, "You know, I officially got the word from my fans that I'm the best rapper alive[...]Haters, ya'll welcome to come, my fans will crucify you in them comments, haha..." Now, I'm not one of his fans who would go as far to say he's the best rapper alive, but he is damn good. I fell in love with him when I heard his cover of Alicia Keys "Unthinkable", he did a beautiful job with it and I haven't heard another male artist do it quite like that. Diddy made a mistake not signing and working with him. Welcome to Swaggsville is an incredible mixtape, 18 songs with no real definitive break in between, just the music flowing into the other. Shooter, The Louis Vuitton Gift Pack, The Crown Ain't Safe, and Zero Gravity were all equally well done and albums that put Los on the map as a real artist who should be watched out for.
Tyga is a staple in Weezy's Young Money team, hailing from California. Skinny and covered in tattoo's, he's another artist who goes hard, and with passion, in everything he does- Wayne was smart to catch him before someone else did. His mixtapes, Well Done, Black Thoughts, Black Thoughts 2, and his collaboration album, Fan of a Fan with Chris Brown, have likewise established him as a talented young rapper; just what YMCMB wants. In the beginning of the song "Black Thoughts" some incredible recordings open the song along with a few infamous rappers who once spoke their views of the rap world and industry, at one point saying, "What the rap audience isn't ready for is a real person..." Tyga bases his persona around this, working to show his real side, and to open a mixtape with a song like this is very strong and sets the stage for what the audience should expect next. Fan of a Fan was a very different installment than any of his other mixtapes, many of the songs were much sexier, his verses combined with Breezy's silky words were seemed most likey aimed at the female audience (I love the mixtape, so they definitely did their job there). Black Thoughts 2 was heavier and deeper look in the rapper's life, with songs like "Never Be the Same", "Reminded", and "Involved" as slower introspective tracks and some bangers like "Bad Bitches" which goes over a classic Lex Luger beat. (Speaking of Lex Luger, I'm in awe of his talent at such a young age.)
Needless to say, I know what I'll be listening to for the next few days...

a few samples from their older mixtapes
unthinkable
hi you dern
say you will
regular girl
black thoughts
never be the same

Special Case

I'm sitting in my sticky-hot room in my leopard print silk robe (courtesy of the sale bin at Victoria's Secret), fan on high, thinking about boys. A boy, in particular. A man, to be more specific. An exception, to make things confusing. I think everyone has that one special case, that one person that, despite everything, they'd go running back to in a second if given the chance. Why is that? How do these people get a hold on you so very deeply, and, do you think the hold is just as strong for them?

I have one exception. 

He undermines all the girl-power advice I give to my girlfriends, challenges the independent woman that I see myself as who doesn't need (or want) him, and continuously draws me back in, closer each time. These situations should be easy: you want someone, they can't give themselves to you completely, you walk away- there should be no room for settling, for making an exception. So why is it that everyone does? Everyone thinks to themselves, next time I will walk away, next time I won't kiss them, next time I'll say, "I want all of you or nothing at all." But instead we say minuscule adaptations of what really should be said because we we're afraid of what the answers to the hard questions might be.

I want to ask, "When you can see that I care deeply for you and have been there fighting and trying from the start, what makes it so hard for you to love me?" Instead, I make excuses for my exception. I ask watered-down versions of this in the hopes that I can catch a glimmer of the underlying emotions he keeps hidden. I understand that I've allowed him to be an exception- he knows it, his best friends know it, my best friends know it. Constantly I'm being told, "He doesn't deserve you...Let him go, move on...You can do so much better...Why do you keep going back to him?" The more they ask me. lecture me, plead with me (both his friends and mine), the more I seek him, the more I feel in my stomach and in the deepest crevice of my heart that part of him is stuck in me, I care without question. He stares at me with his deep, dark brown eyes, the eyes that find mine across rooms of crowded people and penetrate through me, and I can't decide if I can trust what they tell me is hidden in the dark red corners of his heart. I want to hear him speak the words his eyes whisper.

you see right through me

the dean's list

I recently got a friend request from a store called Laced Boston complete with mission statement, "In Laced We Trust"- urban street wear, art, snap-backs and fitted's, Jordan's and Dunk's. Upon accepting this request (how could I deny the chance to look at even more clothes, art, and music in the same spot located in my favorite city?) I received an invitation for a meet and greet at the store with the Boston based group The Dean's List. Three cool dudes who have an album called "The Drive-In" (which I downloaded for free-99 from Datpiff.com) and are doing shows with Kid Cudi, Pusha T, and XV to name a few. I feel like this event would be a totally new experience for me, but so awesome to go to- the combination of clothing, art, and good music is what I dream about daily. And hey, if this leads to getting more invites to events like this, who knows, maybe I could use my communication and English double major to start writing for music / fashion sites or magazines and interviewing store owners and artists...a girl can dream right?

sam

Next to my laptop is a beautiful white picture frame, with intricate twirls on the edges that is reminiscent of the Victorian -era. The picture inside this frame though is what speaks to me- it's of one of my best male friends from high school. He and I had the same sarcastic sense of humor, shared a love of the late Tupac Shakur (we spent hours sifting through online articles about conspiracy theories attached to his murder), English class (he was gifted with pen and paper), as well as many other things that bonded us when we first met in 8th grade. Looking at that picture, circa 2006, taken in my kitchen, this is the friend I remember. The co-conspirator who wore Roc-A-Wear from The Burlington Coat Factory and helped me think up schemes to stay out later, go to Denny's after school dances, challenged me on different types of music, and helped me study for Mrs. Kirby's (a.k.a. "Kurb-stomps") history exams. It was taken with my sisters Polaroid camera, and on that white black spot beneath the image is half a heart and the word "friend$"- he has the other half of the heart underneath my picture with the word "best".

The person he is now is one that scares me. The past two years has been a series of huge change for him, for our friendship. He started out school at UMASS Amherst, subsequently dropped out after about a semester and a half. He met a girl who, at first, alienated me, didn't trust me- all his friends hated her. They both moved back home and began taking classes at the community college in a neighboring city. He visited me up at school a few times; I took him to a black-light kegger one night at a "fraternity" that had been shut down years ago for some, uh, illegal problems- the infamous 99 Madbury. Subsequently, the police came busting the back door, I hid in the shower with three of my girlfriends, the owners got busted, but we made it home safe, scot-free. This was the friend I knew, the partner in crime (innocent, of course).

That was a year ago. He works at a pizza shop in my town now, every day, 9-9. In the beginning of the summer, before any of my three jobs had started, I'd stop by almost every other day to chat and catch up, to just see him. About a month and a half ago my mother heard news about her estranged brother, my uncle. My uncle went crazy when I was about twelve- started telling my mother I would go to hell for reading Harry Potter, denounced Christmas and Easter because they were too commercialized, and began preaching the Bible the way he interpreted it. He banned my mother, my aunt, my grandparents, my sister, me, everyone from seeing his children and contacting his family. After not hearing about him or from him in years, my mother found out that he had taken his three children (Ezekial, Noah, and Hope) to Kodiak Island, Alaska.

This directly pertains to my friend. I saw him about four weeks ago and he informed me that he was taking religion very seriously. I asked him, "Well, what do you mean? I knew you were always pretty religious, what with going to Church every Sunday and what-not..." and he said it was different now. He doesn't listen to music. He doesn't watch T.V. He doesn't drink or smoke anymore. He doesn't hang out with friends anymore. He simply works, reads the Bible (or listens to it on book-tape), does things outside, and spends constant time with his girlfriend. This news took my breath away- doesn't listen to music? You're telling me the person I once knew who didn't go anywhere without his headphones, knew every word to Jedi Mind Tricks, traveled to Boston to meet Vinny Paz, saw Kid Cudi live and told me, "It was the best experience of my life", doesn't listen to music? The person who made me watch Team America and would spend hours laughing at The Office with me, doesn't watch television? I walked out of the pizza shop speechless, with parting words that went something like, "Well, if you ever want to take a hike sometime, let me know...I'd love to spend some time with you..." He nodded and said, "Sure thing Lyssy." I ran into his younger sister about a week ago at a graduation party. We exchanged the polite how-are-you's and talked about school, but the conversation moved to her older brother. She told me he'd gone crazy. Thinks the world was going to end in 2012 and built a bomb-shelter in their basement stocked with canned goods and flashlights and batteries. He doesn't believe in Christmas or Easter anymore. He wants to marry his girlfriend but not have children because in the Bible it says it's a sin to have bring children into a world that's ending. His sister said that she's afraid he's going to hurt her, he tells her every day that she's going to hell. I stared at her, the tears welled up in my eyes and I ran inside to the bathroom. This was my uncle, and I saw his future heading in the same delusional, hurtful, direction.

I've begun to realize how much can change in a few years. People grow up, grow apart, begin their adult lives. I always had this naive idea that my friends would always remain true to their high school personas, growing perhaps, but never changing their roots, the roots that attached themselves to me. I have to grow up as well and come to terms with the idea that he'll never be the same person again, that something inside him switched on, or off maybe. What I lost in him I hope I can gain in someone else. But I'll always keep his picture by my computer, those memories of his sixteen-year-old self shine brightly.

Cole World.

J. Cole - one of the most talented artists in hip-hop, "My story ain't the only one I'm tryin' to tell..." cole, cole, world.

freakum-dress

I worked my usual 2-6 shift at Charlotte Russe today- with the usual mess of tangled clothes on the racks, lines out the door, and customers dying to be a part of our BOGO shoe deal. I was hurrying through a rack of clothes in the fitting rooms, turning clothes inside out, putting them back on the hangers (seriously, why do people do this?) and sorting them into sections like "Goddesstri", "Date Night", and "Summer Escape", when I saw it.

My birthday dress.
Black, mid-thigh, with a high lace neck and a long streak of lace down to just above the bellybutton. Perfect. I turned it over and saw the back was all intricate, twirling, lace as well. Again, perfect. I had to have it. I quickly ran up front and stashed it behind the counter with careful instructions NOT to let anyone put it back on the rack, try it on, or buy it- I couldn't lose a dress like this. I counted down the minutes until my measly 4 hour shift ended, finally ringing out my last customer at 6:02 and typing "khalifa1" into the password box under "END SHIFT". In the fitting room I prayed it would fit- the only dress in this style left in the store had to be a medium, and anyone who has seen my backside would argue that a medium may have its work cut out...but it fit perfect. After sending a joint picture message to my 3 roommates entitled "freakum-birthday-dress!" I nearly skipped to the register.

As the beautiful Beyonce once said, "Pull out the big guns, and put your freakum dress on"

one down, many to go

I finally stopped procrastinating and got up the nerve to start a blog. I'm not entirely sure where I want this to go, but being that my life revolves around music, family, my hilarious friends, college and an obsession with shoes and fashion (as well as an array of many other things I'm passionate about) I figured a blog would be a good way to share my world.

I guess I should begin all of this with the quote that started it all, " Carpe diem, seize the day boys, make your lives extraordinary..."

Here's to making our lives extraordinary.