Lasers by Lupe Fiasco- for opinion writing class

Keshia Smith
Review a Review

I read a review for the Lasers album by Lupe Fiasco from Pitchfork.com. The review gave this album a meager three stars, while reviews from previous works by the same artist got ratings of 8.1 and 7.9. While in no way do I believe Lasers is Lupes best album, I believe it deserves more than the three stars pitchfork graced it with.
As a self-proclaimed “socially conscious” rapper, Lupe Fiasco generally try’s to talk about issues that people in his music. He talks about the government, struggling families, problems in society and problems within himself. To keep his music interesting, he usually laces his lyrics with puns and wordplay that listeners probably will not catch unless listening closely. In his most recent album Lazers, there is less wordplay and the music sounds a tab more commercial. There are more “made for radio” songs as well as songs where he appears to be trying to make his lyrics easier to understand.
In a sense, he does “dumb it down.” My question is, what’s so bad about dumbing it down? We live in an age where newspapers for adults are written at an eighth grade reading level and blogs post have been replaced by tweets. I enjoyed the more lyrically profound Lupe songs such as “The Coolest,” where he paints a picture of how silly the things we view as ‘cool’ in society are. This song is full of wordplays, metaphors and even references to famous works of poetry. However, there is an art in getting straight to the point as well. In Lasers, Lupe says things straight out instead of hiding the meaning in circular lyrics and metaphors. He is also putting the music up agents more commercial beats and teaming up with more mainstream artist. It may seem as if he is being inauthentic, but I think there is a method behind his madness.
The pitchfork review says that “You can't knock him for trying something new, but the tools he should be using-- his rubbery wordplay, thoughtful commentary, sheer love of the art form-- get ditched.” I disagree with this statement. Music is a difficult industry. In one of Lupe’s previous songs he says, “So what's happening, what you rapping about, Is it cars? Is it girls? Is it money? The world? Or is it something they can never believe? Or is it something you can never achieve? Is it beyond your means? Is it inside your dreams? Can it never come out cause it's scared to unprepared to? Too worried about the words of the people it's weird to?” I think he is reflecting on the fact that a certain type of music sells, and that if he doesn’t cater to the audience than his message will have no platform. Producers only produce what they believe people will purchase. That doesn’t mean an artist should set aside their personal ideals to accompany what a producer wants.
Even in his Lazers CD, where Lupe is obviously trying to appeal to a more mainstream audience and to please his producers, he still is able to sneak in some of what makes him unique as an artist. Lyrics such as “Complain about the liquor store but what you drinking liquor for? Complain about the gloom but when’d you pick a broom up? Just listening to Pac ain't gone make it stop A rejavascript:void(0)bel in your thoughts, ain't gon make it halt. If you don’t become an actor you’ll never be a factor.” Still hold true to his signature style of making music that tries to make audience think about their actions and place in the world. For this reason, I disagree with Pitchforks review and I believe the Lasers album deserves between five and six stars.

Halloween appreciation post

I love halloween!

As you get older, you realize Santa isn't really giving coming down your chimney and besotting you with presents (even presents themselves are less exciting. Its much more fun for me to shop for other peoples gifts than to receive presents for some reason.) and the easter bunny didn't put all those eggs full of chocolate at your doorstep. But there is something about halloween that makes you feel like a kid again.

I think it's the costumes. I am well aware that many people like to dress as "sexy witch/nurse/assassin/whatever" that they got from the store and call it a day, but some people make some really creative costumes and its cool to see them all.

Belly Dance Halloween and other shenanigans

The Belly Dance Club Haflaween was really fun! I'm glad I joined the belly Dance Club. I had been meaning to take some type of dance class, mainly because I can't dance well, and Its a lot of fun and good exercise.
















Then the night went something like

Getting started at while walking in a giant group at night because people were wearing coin belts and we were jinging as we walking around campus.

Following the faint sound of music to Docs music hall, where we witnessed the band Husband and Wife preform. They were really good!






Then their was ice cream at the shop in the village followed by dancing at Late Night!

Famous people i admire- Why do people hate beyonce. She is awesome.

Discussing the awesomeness of Beyonce via Tumblr. Seriously, why do people dislike her. There are so many reasons to like her. For one, she is versatile. She can go from dancing to fast-past hip-hop song to singling a slow ballad and have them both be equally amazing. She has an amazing voice. How many singers can actually sing? And a third reason, she is not in and out of jain, in the tabloids for random shenanigans. Her lyrics are less stupid than 90% of other artist out their. She has so much class to go along with her talent. What's not to love?

Oh hey. I still exist and have a face. I attempted to paint over break lol. It was relaxing.

I interviewed my Grandmother!

Profile of My Grandmother
By Keshia Smith
Oct 17, 2011

Life Lessons

On March 18th 1941 a baby girl name Rosalyn was born in a house in Indianapolis. Rosalyn would be the second to the oldest of four children. She grew up in a house on Cornell Street where she lived with her mother, Agusta Jackson, father, Andrew Dorcy Jackson, and siblings. Her father worked as a truck driver.

“We lived in a big old house on the corner, but it was a double house where people live together. Our house was on the bottom floor and another family lived upstairs.” Rosalyn explained.

Growing up, Rosalyn was close to her older sister Pat because they were around the same age. When Rosalyn was about five or six, The family moved to a house on a street called Manlove that her father was having built for the family. Rosalyn says she remembers having a happy childhood.

“I was young but I liked it back then. I think people were friendlier back then than now. Now you can speak to people and they don’t want to speak to you, the atmosphere is different. Back then, waking down the street, people would say hi, and you can do that now and some people will look at you and keep on going as if they don’t hear you speaking to them. Now days there more shooting, killing and we didn’t have all that back in my day. ” Rosalyn explained.

Rosalyn remembers spending a lot of time at school and over her grandmothers house growing up. For fun, she remembers going to the movies with her sister Pat and, when they got a little older, to Friday night dances at Douglass park.

Rosalyn was ten years old when she first left Indianapolis. She traveled with Pat on a train to visit her Grandmother in Milwaukee.

“That was my first time ever going anywhere out of town. I really enjoyed the train. Looking out the window when you ride by you could see cows and horses.” Rosalyn said.

Rosalyn and Pat had a good time in Milwaukee, She remembered seeing an ice skating show that featured characters from Alice and Wonderland.

As teenagers, Rosalyn and Pat went to Chrispus Attics High School, but both never finished high school.

“My mother got sick and a lot of other things were going on at the time. But I can’t put that all on my mother because I quit school because I quit school. I got a little bored at school and my sister Pat had quit school before me. I guess I saw that she had quit school and I quit school. Now, looking back, I wish I had finished school.”

After quieting school, they did things to help their mother around the house. Rosalyn said she babysat kids around the neighbored, ironed and washed neighbors clothes to make extra money. For fun, they would go the movies and to dances at Douglass Park. One Friday, Rosalyn didn’t feel like going to the dance with her sister.

“She tried to get me to go with her but I stayed home and she went alone by herself. She came back and told me she had met this nice boy Leroy and said he was going to come over this Sunday to see her. So he came over, range the doorbell, and we let him in. Then the next time he came back he had his friend, Kenneth, with him.” Rosalyn said.

Pat started dating Leroy while Rosalyn started dating his friend Kenneth. Soon, both sisters were married.

The beginning of Rosalyn’s marriage was full of good memories, including the birth of her children. But soon, their were difficulties in the marriage. After finding out her husband wasn’t being loyal to the marriage, she eventually divorced him and moved back in with her mother.

“He kept on doing the same thing, so I left him. I got tired of it and moved out and moved back in with my mother, until I finally got my own little place.” Rosland said.

Looking back, Rosalyn said she learned a lot from this difficult situation.

“I had a hard time trying to raise my kids and my marriage didn’t work out the way I wanted, which was difficult.” She said, “I was running different places trying to make sure my kids had food and clothes. I had to do everything on my own, but I learned that sometimes you have to keep on living. You can’t stop your life because someone has mistreated you. You still need to keep trying to live your life no matter what. You have to have trust in yourself.”

Rosalyn says that her faith was one of the main things that helped her get through difficult situations.

“When my mother died, it was like something just came over me. I just put my trust in the Lord and got closer to him. I started to go to church and do things like that. I made sure I got my kids in church. We all got baptized together.”

She said that now, as a 70-year-old woman, she has plenty of things in her life that make her happy.

“I just feel happy now. I don’t worry about things like I use to worry about them.”

She has many things in life that are important to her. She says that the things that are most important to her is her family members and God.

“I don’t really go anywhere now. Every now and then I go to a movie. I watch TV and things like that. I don’t have very many friends, but Janet, she’s my daughter, and we act more like friends. We hang together all the time. We go shopping and to the store.”

Janet Smith says she really admires her mother.

“She’s a kind hearted person who tries to be fair with everybody. She’s so sweet and lovable and you enjoy being around her. She doesn’t down people, she doesn’t get upset over things.” Said Janet.

Rosalyn said she wants to be remembered as someone dependable.

“I just want to treat people the way I would want them to treat me, and I want to be known as somebody you can trust.” she said.



Me and my beautiful Grandmother!


Rosalyn and family when she was younger.

I support the Occupy Wall Street protest it because I know the government has been messed for a long time and the economy is getting worse. The rich are getting even more rich, and the poor are getting poor. That being said, the reason for this didn't start in wall-street. It started in human selfishness. The rich don't want to help the poor because of selfishness.

Reminds me of this quote from Blue Like Jazz:

“What I mean is, as a human, I am flawed in that it is difficult for me to consider others before myself. It feels like I have to fight against this force that, more often than not, wants to avoid serious issues and please myself, buy things for myself, feed myself, entertain myself, and all of that. All i’m saying is that if we, as a species, could fix our self-absorption, we could end a lot of pain in the world.”

I am glad people are being vocal against the problems in the world, but we also need to realize that revolution really stars from within.

You only have to look at a few of these post to see what is wrong in the world.
Still, we can't control the government. Just ourselves.

this is not a story of defeat,
resurrection or victory— only
a story of a thing that has
happened and is happening
and will happen again, some
time.

you have memories
and you will have hopes and
your hopes will have wings,
warm from the laundromat,
and scented of rain falling on
picket fences you never had,
but ran your fingers over—
they splintered in your skin.
your freckles spill over your
outermost layer

— pinpoint the
places in which the angels stuck
needles— prenatal acupuncture
for the pressures you would
face outside of the womb—


God knew He could create glory
through you, do you hear?

(by chaivee)

say it to the girl
who says to herself
if i were so wonderful
someone would love me
by now.

say it to the boy
who says to himself
if i were so strong
i wouldn’t have fallen
this hard.

say it to yourself
who says to the mirror
if you were so important
you wouldn’t be doubting
your life.

say it’ll get better.
and then swallow it down.
it’s not a teaspoon of sugar;
but truth doesn’t always
taste sweet at first.

#poem © chaiivee

All Things Grow

I lay on the blue carpet in my roommate Janie’s room with my Macbook in front of me, looking up at Janie as she scowled at her computer screen. It was a Sunday afternoon, and we had encountered a small technical difficulty that was preventing us from working on our homework

“It’s still not working.” She sounded ready to give up.

“Did you try restarting the airport?” I asked. I had already decided not to get too worked up over our unreliable internet connection.

I checked to make sure that the words “The Shire” were still checked on my computer screen. “The Shire” is what we decided to name our two story white house. Despite the fact that all of my roommates were college students, it reminded me somewhat of a grandmother’s house, full of homemade baked goods and couches covered in handmade quilts.

To further formalize the naming our house, we titled the airport connecting us to our wireless Internet “The shire,” and gave it the password “Wefoundjesus,” not because we were Christen (though we were), but because of a wrinkled handmade drawing one of my roommates had found behind my bedroom door the day we moved in. This picture of a man with longish hair looked somewhat like famous interpretations of what Jesus supposedly looked like. It was strange that this photograph was the only thing left from the former tenets, especially since we had met the former tenants. The mental image of one of the rambunctious guys who had, according to our landlord, punched a bunch of holes into the walls and who also had invited us to come to their party when we came to tour the house taking the time to artfully sketch out a very detailed picture of the messiah was humorous. In a fit of giggles, we framed the drawing and hung it on our living room wall.

“I am not going to give myself a headache over this. I hope they don’t expect us to pay for something that isn’t working. I personally will not be paying for this.” Janie said.

I smiled to myself. The English and Journalism double major who often defined herself as a nerd clearly wasn’t a pushover. Her bluntness and demands for justice in all situation were qualities about her that I admired, as well as the fact that she had introduced me to more than one amazing books during the span of our friendship.

I heard the familiar rattling of the kitchen door and heard two of my other roommates, Ariel and Andrea, make their way inside. They danced into Janie room, which was currently the only room with a light on in our house. Our fifth roommate, Alex, was home as well, but she was upstairs inside of her room.

“How was Jubilee?” I asked as I looked back and fourth between Ariel and Andrea faces. I expected them to look tired after the long trip but their eyes were wide and full of stories.

“It was amazing!” Ariel exclaimed, tucking a strand of her long reddish-brown hair behind her ear. She had recently dyed it red because she wanted her hair to more closely resemble the little mermaid’s hair color, as well as to commemorate one of her favorite childhood movies, Anna of the Green Gables.

Andrea and Ariel told us about Jubilee, a christen conference aimed at telling college students how they could use their professional skills and talents to better the world.

I pawed through the booklet they brought back with them, showing all that was offered at this conference. I saw sessions hosted by authors, entrepreneurs and non-profit-organizations. There were sessions dedicated to art majors, education majors and student athletes. There were sessions for African-American students, Hispanic American students, and sessions about immigrants. There was even a season titled “Why you should care about Arcade Fire, Mumford and Sons and Taylor Swift,” that aimed to talk about pop culture in our society.

I listed to Ariel and Andrea talk about how they were inspired to go change the world after meeting and listing to interesting people all weekend. I stopped trying to fix the Internet and reveled in their stories. The coverversation changed topics as Ariel, in an attempt to get Janie to go change the world herself, started talking about project. I tried to convince her to go a bit too, but I secretly admired the fact that Janie was not so easily persuaded.

Lately, I had become the type who approached everything new as if it were to be grand, life changing and important. This was a stark contrast to the me a few years ago, who wanted familiarity and safety above all else. People are so interesting; in the way their stories interplay, in the way even negative situations can create positive change. Lately, if anything seemed useful or interesting, I would sign myself up for it. I suppose that new mindset was how I found myself living with four strangers as roommates in an apartment in Chicago for 10 weeks the previous summer, with the goals or growing closer to God and learning to live a better story.

A lot of people think journeys are outside of themselves. A character finds themselves in a new place and is pushed to do something adventurous. The real story isn’t about any of that. It’s about what happens inside of a person when the very foundation of their world is pulled apart, and the character has to figure out what’s still important. The physical journey only mirrors the mental one. The real story always talks place outside of “the shire,” and focuses on inner bravery that grows as a result of what happens inside of a person heart.

A Blog post about nothing

Hello Blogger. I spent today doing homework, reading, talking on the phone, and browsing the interwebs. I decided to make a blog post about nothing.






Ignore the myspace-ness of this photo. I am going to miss being able to dress like this, like its fall, as it get colder. I like summer and Fall. I want it to be summer and fall forever.








So campus can continue to look like this and I can walk to class without slpping on ice or skining into snow thats taller than me. Someone decided to do a flash mob in the library this week. It was kind of lame, but I took a picture of it anyway.
And I can were sweater dresses, with boots and leggings in the fall.







I had lunch with a couple of friend and ordered chicken cordon blue and it was good. I think chicken cordon blue is going to be my new food to attempt to make.





Anyway, The 4th season of BBC's merlin came out the other day. I think I am becoming obsessed with two many british shows. My first obsession was Being Human, which I felt was better than both Twilight and True Blood. Then, it was Merlin. And I have recently developed a love for Dr. Who. American television needs to get it together. Look at the awesome faces of Merlin.

I remember that morning in May when I took a deep breath and walked out the door towards my car, nervous hands gripping tightly to the brown paper bad that held my makeshift lunch. I had straightened my hair and brought new clothes, clothes that Miss. Seaver from my high school, the teacher who was in charge of our senior year apprenticeships and who would scowl at me for wearing my pink sweater because it ‘wasn’t a professional color,’ would approve of.

It took much more effort to drive that morning than usual, and it wasn’t because this was my first summer with a car. I knew where my internship was located and I wasn’t afraid of getting lost. Still, a part of me knew I was driving towards the unknown, going to my first “real world” professional work experience. I kept looking at the clock, not wanting to arrive too soon or too late.

I arrived at The Recorder about five minutes early. The brown building was so inconspicuous you would miss it if you didn’t know it was there. I pulled into the tiny parking lot between the recorder and a health clinic. I turned off my car and made my way inside.

“Hi” I said to the lady to the front desk, a tall woman with brown skin and waive dark hair pulled back into a messy ponytail.

She gave me a small smile, though her eyes were full of questions.

“I’m Keshia, Jessica’s new intern.” I introduced myself.

“Oh.” She smiled at me fully then and introduced herself, “Let me call Jessica down.”

I was happy to see Jessica’s familiar face scurrying down the stares. I remembered her from my days in JAWS, a high school journalism program run by The Recorder. I remembered wondering if she remembered me when I showed up for an interview after calling the Recovered out of the blue and asking if they were looking for interns.

“Hi Keshia” she said quietly, “Come right this way.”

Jessica was a short woman who didn’t look a day over twenty-five. I stared at the back of her head as she walked up the stairs, admiring the way her natural hair curled around itself in perfect spirals. I decided to not straighten my hair the next day, but I knew it wouldn’t look as precise as that.

When I got upstarts, a petite blond girl in gray slacks was swaying side to side in a spinning office chair. She gave me a hopeful smile.

“Keshia, this is Rachel, Rachel, Keshia.” Jessica said. Rachel, a student from Indiana University, was the other intern for the summer.

I then met Jack, the copy-editor, and Brandon, another writer who was also in charge of Indiana Minority Business Magazine.

I began to feel a little more at ease. We were given our first assignments right off the bat, and told to start working on them.

Later in the day, Rachel came up to me.

“So, how were you this morning when you first came here?” she asked me.

“Nervous.” I admitted truthfully.

She sighed, plopping down in the chair right beside me. Her voice got higher.

“Oh my God, I know what you mean.” she said, “I was sitting in my car, my hands were shaking. I was so scared to come in. But everyone here seems so nice and laid back.”

We laughed at ourselves.

“I agree. It’s funny how nerves get the best of us at times. Everyone is so nice.”

We would soon become accustomed to Jessica’s focused personality that made her a good worker. We would get use to Brandon’s quiet, calm way of explaining things. We would adjust as the dynamics of the office when a new employer, Erica, comes alone and takes us under her wing by introducing us to PR professionals and taking us into the looker rooms at a Fever game.

We would learn to look forwards to reading Shannon’s column every week while copy-editing; we would learn to deal with strange phone calls and request from readers. We would cover events such as Indiana Black Expo, meet local artist and musicians, and write about a variety of topics including health, education, and religion. We would have good days and bad days and but things would go on.

And we would look back at the May morning and realize that the stomach full of nerves is now replaced with a head full of real world knowledge that you can apply to your future carrier goals.

Please don't mistake

Please don’t mistake my difficulties for defeat, my kindness for weakness, my silence for emptiness, my confidence for arrogance, my prayerfulness for conceit, or my lack of height for lack of heart