Straight Talk Sunday
*If you care to listen rather than read, I recorded myself reading this. Please bear with the emotions in my voice at times and the loud noises in the background in the middle. Such is life, right?
I haven’t felt inspired in a long time to write a Straight Talk Sunday, because I never want to force these posts. They’re very personal and take quite a bit of confidence for me to actually put out to the world. Frankly, they’re often a bit sad, and I hope that’s okay, but it helps me to get through hurdles in life by writing about them and getting my thoughts out on “paper.” So today there’s something I’ve been thinking about that I think is worth talking about, partly because I need to think through it, and partly because I think it’s a theme that can extend to a lot of us out there. It revolves around the idea of working to live versus living to work.
For the past couple of weeks, I’ve found myself feeling this level of stress that I don’t typically let get to me. The reason is clear: I’ve been transitioning into a new role at work and I’ve somehow managed to say yes to enough projects that while I’m in the office, I’m running from meeting to meeting, hardly finding the time to go to the bathroom. And then I come home and keep working to prepare myself for the next day’s meetings and presentations. Weekends are spent working, preparing for the week ahead. And somewhere in there, I make myself find time to post to Sunset, because at the very least, I find that enjoyable and rewarding. It has left me with no time to sit and relax or spend time with family or friends. The bigger problem, though, is that I’ve started convincing myself that with time, it will pass.
Every December 31st, I find myself turning to the person next to me and saying “can you believe, that come tomorrow, we’ll never be able to say that it’s [insert current year] again?” It happened again this year, and I found myself remembering what it was like to say it was 1992, 1997, 2003, and then realizing that this year will mark my four-year college reunion. Suddenly I felt old as fuck. And I realized that I needed to create some of those cliche new years resolutions that I try to do every year, but there was something that stuck out to me that I really needed to do.
Straight talk: life has given me lemons. I’m saying this after a great weekend spent with family, so it might seem unexpected, but as I sat down after it all, I felt this wave of emotions roll over me. And as I sit here writing this, I’m thinking to myself, “Lydia, don’t do this. Your family will read it and wonder what’s wrong with you — why can’t you just see the good in things and be happy about it?” The thing is, though, I’m an incredibly happy person. It’s incredibly rare to find me without a smile on my face. And it’s all genuine, too. This world has been pretty damn good to me. I love my friends and family. But damn, these lemons can really eat away at me at times.
What hit me today is that all of us are held to expectations. We’re expected to go to school, we’re expected to find jobs; each of us is held to something, whether it’s from your parents, your friends, society…it doesn’t matter. As somebody who lost a parent over two years ago, I’m think I’m expected to be okay. Nobody set a date or a time for me, but I’m pretty sure that people expect me to have formulated a positive viewpoint on life moving forward. And frankly, I have in a way. There are days when I’m okay, and I can tell myself that life goes on, and my dad would want me to be happy for him and live life to its fullest. But beneath that, there’s still a pit in my stomach when I think about the loss. My dad was my mentor, and the absence of that is something I haven’t quite been able to get over, even two+ years after the fact.
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It’s no secret that I love a song with a good piano section in it. If you were to get a dollar every time I said that on this blog, you’d likely be a rich fool by now. I hope it doesn’t get too repetitive when I write about it, but it probably does. The thing is, though, that can really make a song for me. I came across this cover of John Cale’s “Fear A Man’s Best Friend” by ANR (Awesome New Republic) today, and the piano melted my heart immediately.
I started to ask myself today why it is that I love piano in songs so much. Is it that the sound pleases my ears more than any other instrument? Perhaps. But I think it’s got more to do with the memories it brings up in my mind. I started taking piano lessons in Kindergarten with this incredibly kind old man named Louis Pizzolato. I’m not even sure if that’s how you spell his name because he was always referred to as Mr. P. He was a white-haired man, very old (never knew just how old, but appeared to be in his 80′s or 90′s), and he always had a bucket of candy in his office. To call it an office might be an extreme, because really it was a room next to the cafeteria at my school that could fit an old man, a piano, some candy, a couple shelves of music books, and a kid eager to learn. Nothing more than that. The lighting was always dim in that room, maybe because the window to the outside was about 6 inches by 6 inches, if I recall correctly. There were two other rooms just like this one, one on both sides, but I never knew much about those rooms. The most I ever heard was that those piano teachers rotated in and out a lot. They didn’t stick around for long. Mr. P, on the other hand, was there day in, day out, for years.
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I heard some of the most exciting news in my life last week, and needless to say, it made me incredibly happy. If you follow me on Twitter, or Facebook, or Instagram, or really any social media network, you are likely aware that the company I work for was acquired by Google last Tuesday. The news came as a surprise to most of a company nearing 400 people, but I’d be absolutely shocked if it wasn’t a welcome surprise to all of us. Google. Wow. There’s so much to be excited about, but perhaps the things that excite me the most are the free food, the free shuttle rides to work, and having slides in the office. (Yes, I am a child.)
Despite that childish nature, I’ve realized something over the past three years that I’ve spent “in the real world.” It’s not a long time, but it’s long enough to understand what makes me happy and what inspires me to do my best every day. And when I found out about this Google acquisition, I started reflecting on these things, as I realized that I’m about to start a “new” job in a new place, and in wanting to make sure that I’m just as happy as I have been for the past eight months at Wildfire, I stopped to think about just what it is that has made me so happy lately. To begin, I think I have to give a bit of background on my previous work experience, though.
I started my first job at an advertising agency in North Carolina. I came on board as an intern, as it was nearly impossible for me to find a full-time job at the time. I had no work experience in marketing. I was a Human Rights major, thinking all through college that I would join the Peace Corps or work for an organization like Unicef. It hit me one semester, though, when I was taking a Sports Marketing class, that I really loved marketing. I had tinges of guilt here and there; I had always told myself that I would never work for any of the big, profitable corporations of the world. But something was drawing me to it, so I listened to my inner conscience and attended a short business program at Dartmouth that allowed me to explore marketing in a bit more depth. I continued to love it. But still didn’t have any real world job experience.
So, I lucked out with an internship at this agency in North Carolina, working specifically with one person to create an Account Planning department at the agency. Our mission was basically to bring consumer insights into the marketing and advertising process, so we could create strategic approaches to our work rather than simply creative. I have so much respect for my first boss there, who is still a great friend of mine. She taught me a lot of what I know today, and took a risk by bringing me onto her team of one, knowing that I had no real experience, but trusting that I was smart enough to figure it out and could learn quickly.
When my boss left the company, I switched over to another department, and actually made one more jump before I landed in what would be my full-time position at the company. I ended up as a Web Producer, a fancier name for a project manager on Interactive projects. To this day, I am extremely grateful for that opportunity, but knew all along that there was something missing. I often questioned whether I was in the right place geographically, as all of my family happened to be many states away (in all directions). I also didn’t ever feel passionate about my work there. Whether it was a lack of interest in the client base, perhaps the organizational structure of the company, or maybe simply that the agency lifestyle wasn’t for me, I felt somewhat empty. When I was finally able to admit to myself (with the help of a dear friend) that it was time for me to move on, I was about to make one of the best decisions I’ve made yet.
In my job search, I was much luckier than I was the first time around. I’m sure a big part of it has to do with the fact that I was looking for jobs in and around San Francisco, and the job industry is/was booming compared to the crippling state of the job market on the East Coast. Whatever the reason, I found myself with a couple different opportunities being handed to me, and at the end of the day, I chose the Social Media Account Manager position at Wildfire.
I won’t candy coat things and say there haven’t been times of frustration or disappointment at Wildfire. It is an incredibly fun place to work, but it’s also a job. There are pros and cons. But the bottom line is, I’m happy to go to work every day. That was something I could never say at my old job, where I found myself cringing at the thought of getting out of bed every morning. Months later, I think I’ve found out just what it is that made me turn this corner. Well, there are a few things, but the point is that these things are all constants that I have with me every day when I go to work at Wildfire.
First, I found an environment that excites me.
I work with exciting clients, I arrive to an energetic and fun workspace every day, and our industry is exciting. This sounds subjective, but it doesn’t have to be. I’m driven by the excitement of marketing, specifically within social media. And yes, it’s a booming industry, so that is exciting. But it doesn’t have to be that way. I have friends in finance who see “an energetic workspace” and think fast-paced, and perhaps stressful. While that would drive me insane, it’s exciting to them. If you’re looking for a job, I challenge you to find out what excites you and seek that out in a workspace.
Second, I found a place where I can be myself every day.
I can be myself around my coworkers, around my managers, and even around my clients. It’s refreshing, and it really allows me to flourish. I’m not sure this was really missing at my old job, except for the fact that I never had a very firm grasp or understanding of how to make a difference at my old company. Wildfire has allowed me to do that, and perhaps it’s part of its startup environment, but it’s made a huge difference in my happiness level.
Third, and I think most importantly, I found a place filled with people who I am excited to be around every day.
I say most importantly, because I really think this one makes all the difference. I wake up in the morning these days and get excited to get out of bed to go join my friends at work. There’s a level of understanding that we’re all there to achieve the same goals – help the company thrive, and of course, help ourselves and one another grow and learn. But beyond that, I’ve made some of the best friends of my life while working at Wildfire. I’ve met people who I know I’ll be friends with for the rest of my life, and that’s something really unique about the company. I wouldn’t trade that for the world.
In a matter of weeks, our whole company will be facing change: we’ll be picking up and moving into the Google office spaces. While it’s an incredibly exciting time (for reasons like the slides in the office, yes), there’s also a bit of me that is nervous. Consider this: Wildfire is a company of under 400 people, and we’re about to join one of the biggest, most successful companies in the world. I fear that the sense of family that we’ve built at Wildfire might start to feel lost as we join a much bigger team in a much bigger space. It’s also a bit scary to think that there will likely be fewer to make a difference in the day-to-day, which is something that I’ve fallen in love with at Wildfire. I imagine Google is a much more mature and structured workplace, so understandably, we may not have all the same opportunities to incite change where we feel it’s needed.
At the end of the day, though, I know can brush these things aside and be overwhelmed with excitement. Because in the face of change, the three things that I’ve realized make me love Wildfire are constants. Those are things that can’t be taken from us. And I again will say that I think the third thing is the most important; I will still be in a place filled with incredible friends. Wherever we go, however far we move, we’ll still have each other as constants. I’ll still have the excitement of going to work and being with my friends every day. It sounds simple, and really it is, so I’m not sure why it took me so long to realize this. But if you haven’t yet found that or made the realization, I’ll share it with you again: great friends can be the single most important cause of happiness, and in the face of change, if they’re really true friends, they will be your constants.
I find myself starting these Straight Talk Sunday posts off with this often, and I’ve again got to say that I apologize for not making this “column” a very regular feature. I’m not sure if it’s because I haven’t felt like I’ve had enough time, or maybe it’s more that I haven’t been sitting down and thinking about an introspective piece for a little while. I’m going to go ahead and guess that it’s a mix of both. I got to thinking something today, though, and I think it’s worth sharing with all of you. It started with an e.e. cummings quote that I read today:
To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting.
I think that as I’ve been flipping through the chapters of life, moving quickly from one to the next, I’ve forgotten to keep fighting at times. I’ve moved around a lot, met a ton of new people, and sometimes feel a bit like a chameleon, adjusting myself and my character to adapt to the atmosphere around me. Though I like to be able to say that I can fit into many different situations, I don’t ever want to pretend to be something or someone who I am not.
Though I typically am open to do so, today I don’t want to let my thoughts completely run free on the paper, partly because I’m not one hundred percent sure how to express them or what they really are. So instead, I thought I’d write a bit about who I am.
I am a sister.
I am a go-getter.
I am a writer.
I am a talker.
I am working every day on becoming a better listener.
I am a smiler.
I am a lover.
I am happy running.
I am happy sitting.
I am a home-body.
I am happy in your company.
I am happy by myself.
This is who I am. I don’t want to let you down. I wish I didn’t feel like I could.
I’ve been struggling a bit in the past couple weeks with the concept of maintaining this beloved blog that I’ve been running for over three years. My life seems to get crazier by the day, and juggling a full-time job, the commute to and from work every day, social gatherings, and just having time to myself here and there gets difficult. Finding time to put in blogging gets really hard, and like I said before, I don’t ever want to force anything.
I’ve thought a bit about quitting, you know…about letting go of the blog. It’s fucking sad to say, and it even makes me squirm when I type it here. This thing has been my obsession for the past three years, and to think about discontinuing it tears at my heartstrings. But I’ve just found that it’s really hard to manage with so many other things on my plate.
But today I’m here to say that I’m not giving up. Nope. Not me, not today. There are a lot of distractors, but then all of the sudden I come across something so beautiful, so different, so moving, that it reminds me once again what the point of this blog is. It reminds me why it’s WORTH taking time out of my life to maintain this blog and to share with you guys what I find to really be life-altering. It was beautiful music that got this started, and it is beautiful music that will keep it going.
Today I came across some of this music, and I’m here to share it with you guys.
I get really excited when I hear a song that sounds, for lack of a better description, a little different. Listening to so much new music every day can be tiring. A lot of it starts to sound the same, and it starts to blur in my mind a bit. What’s funny is that at times I’ll hear songs that don’t fit to a typical song structure (you know…chorus, three verses, a bridge), and I’ll immediately put it off as the works of people poorly versed in the study of music. But then some songs come along that don’t follow this structure and I praise their existence. But perhaps what’s more important than just the structure of the song is the sound of how it was put together.
A great example of this is a song off of Bowerbirds’ new album, called “In The Yard.” When I listen to this track, there are things that I hear and wonder if they intended to make it sound funny like that at times. I ask myself why it sounds a little off, or why the tempo changes so unexpectedly. And then I realize that they’re doing this completely on purpose. These guys have a mastery of the art of making music. And by doing these quirky things in their song, they’re keeping my attention the entire time. It’s creative, and by god it works. This song right here inspired this post, and it is something like this that inspires me to keep going.
Another great example of music that moved me today and reminded me why I love doing this so much is a song by Django Django called “Default.” Tell me this isn’t one of the more unique songs you’ve heard in a while. Is it electronic? Is it rock and roll? But wait. It’s folky, it’s twangy, and if it isn’t one of the catchier songs you’ve heard in a while, you might be crazy. I absolutely love it. Are these guys modern-day Fatboy Slim?
And lastly a video I received today of a live recording of The Barr Brothers performing their popular song, “Beggar in the Morning.” This one struck me as unique because of the visual experience. I can listen to a song like “Beggar in the Morning” and be mystified at the noises and the beauty of it, but it’s hard to really conceptualize what it took to put these noises together. In a session they did with KEXP, The Barr Brothers recreated the song, and we get to see all of the parts that form the whole. It’s truly beautiful, and without these visuals, I’m not sure I would have been able to appreciate this song to the same extent that I will now.
And to sum it up, thank you guys for being here to read what the Sunset Family has to say every day. If it weren’t for you guys, we’d have nothing to work for. So thank you, thank you.
I once tried to be something that I wasn’t.
It started with a trip I unwillingly took to a show at the Museum of Fine Arts in Houston with my mom. My boyfriend at the time was in town visiting and when my mom suggested that we go to the museum with her, it sounded like what could have been the worst idea of all time. Mom wasn’t having it. She made us go anyway. The exhibit was a collection of artwork from The Museum of Modern Art in New York while MOMA was renovating their space.
I’m pretty sure that I lost my boyfriend to a seat on a couch the second we walked in, but I decided to follow my mom and take a look around. After all, I had been dragged out there to begin with, I might as well see what all the fuss was about. I walked into a room full of Van Gogh’s, Pollock’s, Mondrian’s and I was immediately taken aback. The colors, the patterns, the feelings that came in the form of bursts of color, smooth brushes of paint, and intricate details caught not only my eye but also my emotions. All of the sudden I felt as though I could express my emotions that were so locked up in my high school body through something like this. In my mind it seemed as though modern art like this didn’t require an artistic mastery; it required a wealth of knowledge about yourself and how you can express your feelings. I had never been sure of how to express my feelings before.
Sure enough, I went back to school after that Christmas vacation and started painting. Emotions were all over the canvas. I was a high schooler who was battling a severe case of epilepsy. Boarding school didn’t necessarily agree with my lifestyle of choice. I was lost and confused and unsure of who my true friends were. I was constantly told by doctors that if I continued to take more and more pills, the seizures would somehow find a way out of my life. The pills piled up, and the seizures did too. I felt like a zombie who had to fight to keep my eyes open for more than a couple hours at a time. The medicine sucked the life out of me. And the seizures remained. Nobody understood me. Why was this happening to me, and what did it actually feel like? I’m still not sure I can tell you that. But I needed a way to get this growing pile of pain out of me.
I owe a lot to my mom for taking me to the museum that day. I was introduced to a world of people who took an alternative path to express their feelings. Tears are all too common. Even therapists didn’t quite get what I was going through. But a canvas, inviting of color, of abstractions, of tears mixed in to the paint – it was my sounding board. I created abstractions that nobody else might have understood, but that proved a point. I didn’t need to be defined simply as a kid fighting a troubling disease. I was a kid with a whole host of thoughts inside of me that could turn out to be something truly aesthetic. It didn’t need to be understood. It could be seen as something beautiful. Before this outlet, I wasn’t sure if I could be seen like that. Too much time spent on stretchers and hospital beds didn’t allow it.
At some point, I stopped making art. Before then, though, I was rewarded with a prize at my school’s graduation ceremony for my artwork. Something that came into my life without much warning had suddenly turned me into something new, something refreshed. It gave me something to be proud of. It allowed me to stand tall.
In the end, the art didn’t cure my seizures; I did. But it sure as hell helped me get to the point where I was strong enough to overcome something that was taking over my life and quickly making me feel as though I wasn’t going to make it through this battle. Painting gave me the feeling that I could stand up to my fears. Through standing up against what was quickly becoming the authority in my life, I found a way to fight.
Eventually, I fought back against the zombie-inducing medicine. I found something that worked for me. I became my own person again and found comfort in my life and in who I am as a person. Suddenly, as if by the work of a miracle, the seizures started becoming more infrequent. With each minute of my life that I gained back, I gained the strength to feel as though I was able to control my own life. The fight continued. I started to take over this imaginary battlefield. Soon enough, I won. I could hardly believe it. I fought that son of a bitch and was able to say that I came out victorious. The seizures went away. And so, too, did my art.
The great thing is that the art will always be there. It’s hanging in a room that, perhaps understandably, means a lot to me. I get flooded with emotions when I enter that room. It’s a reminder of what was, and what I overcame. It reminds me of a part of my childhood that was, quite frankly, largely taken away from me by demons that I didn’t ask for.
Something in me, though, tells me that we all have demons that we didn’t ask to fight. Mine was a medical condition, but others may have less concrete demons. In fact, though I had a somewhat concrete demon, what was less obvious was that I was trying to be a person who I wasn’t made to be. I was trying to be a person who followed all the rules and took life as it came to me. I was trying to go by the book, knowing that if I did as I was told, I would come out okay in the end. The fact is, that isn’t who I am. I’m a fighter. I’m alternative. I don’t succeed if I follow all the rules. I have my own way of living. I don’t like to imitate my life off of others who follow all the rules, despite the success that they may find. I’ve found my success by emulating the acts of the alternatives.
I owe so much to my mom, to Mondrian, to my art teacher, and hell, even to my case of epilepsy. All of these influences helped me find myself. And I look back today and am happy with where I am. Yes. I am happy and proud. It takes a lot of people a long time to find out how to say that, but I’m here to say that it is possible. I wasn’t sure of that when I was in high school, but it is. It just takes finding your path.
I want to relate this to music for a second. That’s what you’re here for anyway, right? I’ve recently discovered an artist by the name of Birdy. She’s got a voice that is unparalleled by many today. But she’s made a name for herself recently not by creating her own music that shows off her voice. She’s finding her path through echoing the masterpieces of others before her, such as Fleet Foxes, Phoenix and Bon Iver. It’s quite brilliant, really. She’s found her launchpad by paying homage to the greats who so many of us have come to know and love. She’s proven herself by showing that she can create beautiful covers of these already-magnificent songs. Soon it will be Birdy’s time to create her own path. But she’ll likely look back, as I have, to the inspirational artists who helped her find herself. I’ve included some of Birdy’s music at the bottom of this post. I know that I will be closely following her career as an artist, and I hope that you will be, too.
Lastly, I just wanted to mention that I’m not sure I’ve ever told you guys about this part of my past. Perhaps it’s because sometimes I try to forget about it. Or maybe it’s something that I wasn’t ready to share with the whole world. (Okay fine, the whole world might not be reading Sunset in the Rearview. But you guys are the world to me.) Either way, posts like these remind me that I have found a community here whom I trust enough to share my own very personal stories. It’s an alternative way to get over humps and hurdles, but as I said, I thrive on alternative paths.
But I have to thank all of you for being a catalyst for my happiness and success. I will never forget that. And I encourage any and all of you to reach out to me at any time. I heard from a fan recently who told me that he had lost his dad in the past few months. He remembered reading that I had lost my dad, and he reached out to say that the music and stories that I’ve shared helped him a lot. Things like that mean the world to me. I owe a lot to you guys, so please let me know if I can ever do anything for you. We’re in an invisible friendship that I’ll never forget. Don’t you forget that, either.
I just started a new job last Monday, and on Thursday I was asked to introduce myself in front of the entire company. Yall. That’s like 250 people. It was terrifying, but I did it. Got up in front of a full room and said my name, where I’m from, what I like to do in my free time, and a fun fact about myself. It went a lot like this.
[Lydia walks up to the mic. She is approaching the mic to grab it from the CEO who is one of her heroes. Her knees are shaking a bit.] “Hi everybody! My name is Lydia Simmons, I’m originally from Houston. [People around the room start cheering. What up, Texans!] I moved here from Durham, North Carolina for the job. In my free time…I spend a lot of that time maintaining a music blog called Sunset in the Rearview. I really like hip hop music. [People in the room giggle a little. Most likely they're thinking 'This little girl likes hip hop music? That's weird.] Fun fact I guess would be that I lived in Kenya for a little bit and used to speak fluent Swahili. Really excited to be here!”
It was awkward and terrifying. But like I said, I did it.
The best part of it was that some people came up to me afterwards asking about my blog and what type of hip hop I like. That prompted this post, I suppose. Lately I’ve been digging up old school hip hop that I can’t help but love. The old school stuff built the platform for today’s stars to stand on, even if they don’t echo the sound. It’s an ever-growing genre, but it’s always great to see current bands sticking to those old school roots. A group that’s great at doing that is People Under The Stairs. Man, I fucking love those dudes. Pardon my language, but I just needed the oomph to emphasize how great they are. If you’re not onto them, you need to be. They recently released an album called Highlighter that is incredible. The album almost went unnoticed by me, because of the bold move by People Under The Stairs to release it independently in an effort to avoid low-quality MP3s being released. They worked really hard to release a high quality album: from hand-printed and packaged physical album artwork and only selling digital versions on their site at very large file sizes, People Under The Stairs went to extreme measures to maintain the quality of their sounds, at the risk of losing money. It’s great to see that they’re not all about the profits, as you rarely see that from professionals anymore. The good thing for us was that the music itself was quality, too. Some of their beats sample rock songs from my childhood (think Red Hot Chili Peppers), which only enhances the experience. Like hip hop that reflects on old school flows and is set to incredible, full-sound instrumentals? Highlighter is the album for you.
Now here I am being a douchebag and giving yall an MP3 of one of the songs – but I only intend for this to get you to fall in love and buy the album. Seriously. You need to.
So many people ask me how I can stand hip-hop or “rap music.” The thing is, most of the hip hop that I love will never be played on the radio. And I have a love/hate relationship with that fact. I love it because, well, partly because I’m a music snob these days (I’ve admitted to it and I’m okay with it) and I like having some sort of ownership of what I listen to. But I love it mainly because it means that the songs will remain respectable and not overplayed; songs that make it to the radio quickly get overplayed to death and become resented by many. (Read: “Pumped Up Kicks.”) But I hate it because it’s sad that the radio is in such poor state. It makes sense, financially (with the cost of radio streams and all that), but it doesn’t make sense morally. The artist who work their asses off to create great music don’t get the same type of money that the artists who are represented by major labels do. But whatever, it is what it is, and I’m not about to say I have the recipe for changing the system. So I blog instead.
To get more into what type of hip-hop it is that I love, though, I think it’s easiest to say that I love hip-hop that’s easy to listen to. I like melodic hip-hop. I love lyrical wordplay. I love an artist who is conscious of their surroundings. I love hip-hop that could easily be an indie-rock song if the person was singing instead of rapping. I love hip-hop that gets you moving. I love hip-hop that’s played witha full band. That’s about it. Not much more to say other than I love it. With all of my heart. Hip-hop is part of me. It always will be. Even when I’m a grandmother, I think I’ll still love it. Maybe not what the kids will be listening to then, but I’ll still have a love for hip-hop that I grew up loving. Something about that tells me that I might be the coolest grandmother EVER, and I’m cool with that.
Here are a few more new songs that embody all that I love about hip-hop. Press play on “8-Bit Kid” and tell me that couldn’t be an electronic song on its own.
MP3: “8-Bit Kid” – LiLa
I owe a lot to a friend right now. Suffice it to say, she lit the fire under my ass that has gotten me to where I am today. Sunday, October 30th.
Over dinner one night, in a dimly lit room at a table for two, I started to take a bite to eat and then was hit with a question that only a best friend can ask without getting a look in return of ‘Really? Right before I’m about to take a big bite of food?’ There it was. The inevitable yet daunting bomb. ‘Lydia…what do you want to do in your life?’
I looked up from the plate of food and full glass of wine and saw that she was serious. She really wanted to know exactly what I want to do with my life and how I’m going to achieve my goals. The only problem was…that question is nearly an impossible one to answer. Straight talk? It’d be really awesome to be a full-time blogger. I really love running this blog. But in reality, I don’t think that’s going to happen. Looking back on the night, it’s hard to recall exactly what my answer was, because I had probably already had too many glasses of wine. But I’m willing to bet that I said something like “I want to be part of something awe-inspiring. I want it to revolve around technology and digital media, and I want to be part of the decision-making process that people eventually look back on and say ‘Damn. I wish I could have been part of that.’” Though it took me a couple minutes to formulate my answer, she was a true friend and gave me my time to think of what I wanted to say. And when I started talking, she was listening. Not just hearing the words, but believing in the words. When I finished speaking, she kept her focus on me and said ‘Well, how are you going to do that?’
Those words, in retrospect, sound quite disheartening. ‘I…uh…um…I guess by…’ Yeah. I don’t know. But you know a best friend has crossed your path when they’re willing to sit there and brainstorm how to help you reach those dreams. So we sat, and we talked, and I left dinner feeling like I was superwoman. She gave me the confidence in myself that made me believe that I’m young, I’m capable, I’m motivated, and I need to work to make this happen.
Today, a month or two later, I’ve found myself standing at the gate of a whole new world. After that dinner, I started out on a journey to find a new job that would lead me to the future that I’ve imagined for myself. I realized, when talking about what I wanted to do, that Raleigh-Durham wasn’t the right place for me. Though I absolutely love Durham with all of my heart, it isn’t a place where I can see my career flourishing. I realized that I need to be in San Francisco. So, I had to take some time away from the blog, as I would go to work all day and then come home and continue my search for jobs. I applied to many, and miraculously heard back from a few that I was very interested in. I took a weekend trip out to San Francisco for final interviews, and came home with a new job, a new apartment, and a new sense of excitement for my career.
It took a lot of courage for me to quit my current job. The friends I have made there are some who I believe will forever be a part of my life, but I found myself needing a directional change and a fresh start. And, like I mentioned, Raleigh isn’t quite the hotbed that San Francisco is. But I did it. I put in my two weeks’ notice and came to terms with the fact that the life I have been living here for the past six years would be changing drastically in just a few weeks. There were times when I doubted whether I was making the right decision. I felt as though I didn’t have anybody to turn to, at times. Typically, I would have asked my dad for advice and if I was jumping the gun. It broke my heart that he wasn’t there to answer my questions. But as funny as this may sound, I would wake up with a sense of encouragement, which led me to believe that my dad was letting me know while I slept that I was doing the right thing.
So the scoop! I have accepted an offer at Wildfire Interactive, where I will be working as a Social Media Account Manager. I cannot wait to start work, and that’s really saying something for somebody who HATES early mornings. Especially because I’m fully aware that I’ll have an hour long commute to Silicon Valley in the mornings. But the energy, the dynamic culture, the knowledge that radiated off of the walls when I stepped into their offices…that right there is what I was telling my friend that I wanted to be a part of that night at dinner. And sure enough, I made it.
On top of all of this excitement, I couldn’t be more pleased to say that I’ll be living within walking distance of two of my sisters. AND, one of them is having a baby in just a few weeks. For those of you who are avid readers of my Straight Talk Sundays, you’ll know that this is a great thing for my family. New life. My dad would be so happy. So there it is. I’m doing it. And I couldn’t be more excited. Oh, and I’ll be sure to wear some flowers in my hair.
Straight talk: You can do it.
I went to a bar last night and immediately fell in love with the DJ. (You probably heard enough about this last night if you follow me on Twitter.) His entire set consisted of songs that threw me into an altered state of nostalgia and extreme happiness. I’m talking Biggie, Tupac, Ice Cube, Skee Lo, Biz Markie, Tribe … he had it all. It was an interesting situation where I didn’t want any songs to end, because I was having so much fun jamming and remembering other times when these songs were prevalent in my life, but at the same time, I couldn’t wait to hear what he would play next. Essentially, I never wanted the night to end. Talk about a successful job as a DJ!
All of this got me to thinking about music, memories, and how the two come to be. We all know the feeling of hearing a song and being blasted into our pasts, immediately remembering where we were, who we were with, and the atmosphere of the time that was. But the part of memories through music that doesn’t seem to be talked about is the moment in which the memories are created. Can you know in the moment that you will forever think of that event whenever you heard the song that was playing?
It made me wonder, as I was listening to these classic hip hop songs that remind me of middle school, high school, college, or even more recent times as I’ve taken a trip through old school hip hop, whether the original memories would remain, or if this epic night that I had last night would overcome the past times and be the night I would remember when I heard the new songs. It made me think that yes, you can know in the moment that a memory is being formed, but you have to be conscious of the situation.
The moral of the story, or what I walked away with last night, was that it’s an incredible feeling to be able to live in the moment. Build on the past and prepare for the future, but right then and there, you should be reveling in your surroundings. Soak the sound in and let your brain soak the memories in, but allow yourself to have the time of your life. Because you never know (or maybe you do!), you may hear this song in the future and be blasted back to last night. Do yourself a favor and let it leave an incredible mark on your timeline.
…And while you’re at it, be sure to make the soundtrack a good one. To help you do this, I’m putting together a Spotify playlist of Old School Hip Hop classics that bring me back to the good ole days (and last night!). What I need for YOU to do is comment on this post and let me know what songs need to be added to the list. I’ll then go and add them, and you can subscribe to an ever-growing playlist that can be your go-to memory-building playlist. Fun part of it is, we’ll all be building our own memories to the same set of songs. And there we have it. Boom goes the dynamite.
MP3: “Work” – Gang Starr
MP3: “Jump” – Kris Kross
Precursor: These Straight Talk Sunday posts don’t come every Sunday, because frankly, I don’t always have something even remotely profound to say. But today I had something to say, damnit, and I wanted to say it so badly that I actually did…say it. I’ve recorded myself reading my Straight Talk Sunday using the ever-so-wonderful SoundCloud app, and I don’t know if I’ll keep doing this or not, because I don’t really like the sound of my own voice, but hell, today I don’t really care. This is Straight Talk…and it’s spoken. For those who care not to listen, or perhaps for the hard of hearing, I’ve typed it out below. For those listening, pardon my mispronunciations or stutters. I have a cold. And I’m nervous, okay? I don’t know yall like that yet.
Sometimes when I sit by myself with headphones in, jamming out or slowly bobbing my head to some music I’m really feeling that particular day, I ask myself what the hell it is with me and this music business. What do I like about it so much? What’s to like? It’s just sound…no? Sure, some bands put noises together that sound good. Yeah, okay, other bands write really poetic lyrics. But in the end, isn’t it just noise?
Well, the answer hadn’t come to me until I found myself at a concert the other night. I was right up at the corner of the stage and in total awe of the music coming from the four men who call themselves The Antlers. If you’re at all a fan of this band, you likely know that their 2009 album, Hospice, is an incredibly sad and dark album allegedly about an abusive relationship but told through the analogy of a Hospice worker and a terminally-ill patient. That album, through its dark nature and incredibly telling lyrics, pulled in fans of all sorts, most of whom likely found themselves in a comfortable nook in the middle of an uncomfortable situation. The next album from The Antlers, 2011′s Burst Apart, was lighter than its predecessor, this time showcasing some strength in retaliation. The breakthrough song, in my opinion, is the opening track, “I Don’t Want Love.” In it, frontman Peter Silberman sings “If I leave before you, And I walk out alone, Keep your hands to yourself, When you follow me home, I don’t want love.”
As they began to play this song at the bar the other night, the crowd started rejoicing. One person in particular stood out to me. He was a young man in the front row, I’d imagine in his later teen years, and between songs he looked like any young fan. Curious, somewhat excited, but pretty much blending into the crowd. As soon as “I Don’t Want Love” started, though, this boy became my answer to why I like music so much. He burst out into interpretive dance moves, his whole body reverberating alongside the guitar and vocals, slamming his head down with the hard note changes and slowly pulling it back up with his eyes closed as other notes soared. His arms were almost directing the music itself. He was lip-syncing the lyrics the entire time, or perhaps he was belting them out alongside Silberman, I’m not quite sure. But every single word that came out of Silberman’s mouth, I knew right then and there, was affecting this young man. With the emotion coming through his dance moves, I knew that this boy had experienced something deep or dark and The Antlers were his coping mechanism. How did I know? Because when the song ended, and the cheering finally stopped, I heard him mutter to the band, “thank you.” It wasn’t loud enough for the band to hear, but there it was. It was clear to me that The Antlers, through their representation of love lost, remorse, pain, fear, release…all of the emotions that come out in their music, were able to heal this young man at some point.
To be straight with y’all, I’m going through a really fucking tough time right now. It seems that with every day that comes, a new boulder gets laid in my path, as though I’m being challenged to find my way. I’ve typically been one to think ‘with every day comes a new opportunity,’ and am excited to seize the day, but lately it’s just been overbearing. Too many things, far too often, are stumbling blocks rather than stepping stones. At times I want to just hang my head and cry, but as soon as I say that, I think of a song that I love. A song that actually says in it, “so I hung my head and I cried.” It’s a song that my Dad taught me as a little girl. After losing my Dad just over a year ago, I carry this song particularly close to heart. And at this point in time, there are other songs that I’m keeping close. Songs that are able to get me through. Songs that get me, that remind me that others, too, have seen dark days. One day it’s Kid Cudi getting me through, today it seems to be The Antlers.
So through it all, I’ve found my answer. I love music because it is reflective. It’s artful. My god, its powerful. And direct. It has the ability to connect people who may never meet, but they can be together emotionally through words and sounds. It’s gotten me through good times and bad, and these days it’s carrying me through to the next. Straight talk: music aint just noise, it’s a way of being.
This is Lydia; I represent Sunset in the Rearview. Signing out.