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8 Mile Ride

These ideas are nightmares to white parents...

By S. FrazerPublished 3 years ago 9 min read
15

Sitting atop the highest peak of a Japanese roller coaster in the year 2010, I vowed to love Eminem forever.

Please, God, I prayed, if you can just get me through this trip, I will buy every Eminem song in existence.

That's true. That's a real prayer I said to God.

I was on a foreign exchange trip with a bunch of kids and teachers from my high school. It was an incredible experience. We went to Nara Park, Mt. Fuji, Tokyo, Hiroshima, and, toward the end of the trip, Universal Studios Japan.

But it was my 16-year-old self's first time abroad, and by this point, I was starting to get homesick. We'd spent the first part of the trip in hotel rooms, but now we were staying with host families, and, of course, it was a bit awkward. So I was excited when they arranged a group trip to Universal; what better way to overcome a language barrier and get to know someone than hitting up an amusement park together??

All theme parks have that one *good* roller coaster. At USJ, that's Hollywood Dream – The Ride.

The cool thing about Hollywood Dream is that every rider gets to pick what they want to listen to from a list of five songs.

When I was there, the first three options were in Japanese. I'd been surrounded by Japanese for over a week and was desperate to hear some English. The fourth option was a Bon Jovi song. It wasn't "Livin' on a Prayer," but I just remember thinking, I hate "Livin' on a Prayer," so that's out.

The final option was Eminem's "Lose Yourself."

Now, my house was a strictly no-rap zone. All I knew about Eminem was that he was white and a rapper. I'd heard part of "Crack a Bottle." And here I was, in a foreign country, with but two choices before me, one of which was unappealing and the other forbidden by my parents.

Obviously, I went with the latter. And so the rebellion began.

The ride started, and the music played.

I've put the song over a video of the ride so that you, too, might experience what I did that fateful afternoon. The song's intro fit perfectly with the slow beginning of the ride, and every drop seemed to hit the beat. It was an otherworldly experience.

I went on that ride as many times as I could, picking that song every time.

We eventually moved on to other attractions, but I went back to Hollywood Dream one last time before we went home. It was getting dark, and when we reached that first peak, I could see the park spread out below. The lights were beautiful. I was carefree, confident, happy. In that moment, I realized that I was okay and that I didn't miss home so much.

It was then and there that I made my bargain with God. That song had made me fearless. I could do this. I would get through this trip, and when I got home, I would be an Eminem fan for life.

The exact spot where I made a bargain with God that I have yet to uphold.

Stupid, I know.

Still, getting to hear "Lose Yourself" for the first time on an awesome roller coaster ride is one of my top ten life experiences. Sure, I was a decade behind everybody else, but had everybody else been going 56 mph at a 50° angle when they'd first heard the words "snap back to reality, ope there goes gravity"? I think not.

When I got back to the States, I started my formative journey through Em's discography in no particular order. Recovery had just dropped and was on top of the charts. The Marshall Mathers LP and The Eminem Show became my favorite albums. I loved Relapse and couldn't understand the criticism it had received; if anything, I thought Encore was the weakest link.

And I changed. My worldview expanded beyond my suburban neighborhood, I began thinking for myself, and my attitude grew more defiant. To my parents' shock (and absolute horror), my love suddenly transferred from innocent Disney prince Ben Barnes to this rapper from Detroit who talked about killing women and said the f-word a lot.

But from that point on, I felt like I had a voice (about teen angsty stuff, not killing women).

Eminem was able to put into words the rage and pain and frustration that I felt and my parents ignored. He talked about addiction and abuse and having problems at home. Sometimes it felt like he was describing my life specifically (my home life was rough enough that we were invited on the Dr. Phil show). Eminem hated his dad, and sometimes I hated mine, too. He talked about mental health and making mistakes and learning from them. He fought the system and stuck up his middle finger at the establishment. He spoke for the disillusioned youth. He articulated the way that I felt, and that's what makes good music.

These aren't necessarily my favorite Em songs, but here are my top ten for teen angst. This is literally the most generic list, but when they're good, they're good. I've limited this list to the songs that were in existence when I was a teenager and that got me through some of my darkest hours.

10. White America

See, the problem is I speak to suburban kids

Who otherwise would've never knew these words exist

Whose moms prob'ly would've never gave two squirts of piss

'Til I created so much motherfuckin' turbulence

I feel called out.

9. The Way I Am

8. When I'm Gone

Teen angst isn't all anger. It's also pain, despair, and sorrow. This was a powerful, heartbreaking song in which Marshall lamented his mistakes and failures as a parent. Sometimes Eminem felt like the protective father I wished I had.

Not like this, though.

7. Cleanin' Out My Closet

6. Kim

Okay, I'm not proud of this. But this is one of my all-time favorite songs. I know it's psychotic. This song used to scare the absolute shit out of me.

But when you're angry? I mean really, really angry. This is art. This is therapy. This is pure, raw emotion. This is like a rage room in song form.

Note: Kim Mathers is an incredibly strong woman who deserves happiness and peace. One of the things I love about Eminem is his acknowledgment of his mistakes and open apologies to his family. I don't condone the abuse he subjected his wife to in any way.

5. Talkin' 2 Myself

Is anybody out there?

It feels like I'm talkin' to myself

No one seems to know my struggle

And everything I've come from

Can anybody hear me?

Yeah, I guess I keep talkin' to myself

It feels like I'm goin' insane

Am I the one who's crazy?

4. Beautiful

3. 25 to Life

2. Still Don't Give A Fuck

For all the weed that I've smoked

Yo this blunt's for you

To all the people I've offended

Yeah, fuck you too!

To all the friends I used to have

Yo, I miss my past

But the rest of you assholes can kiss my ass

Scandalous.

1. Sing for the Moment

Some of my favorite lines in music:

These ideas are nightmares to white parents

Whose worst fear is a child with dyed hair and who likes earrings

Like whatever they say has no bearing

It's so scary in a house that allows no swearing

To see him walkin' around with his headphones blarin'

Alone in his own zone, cold and he don't care

This song resonated with me on a whole new level.

So, naturally, I dyed my hair, got my septum pierced, started cussing, and blasted my music so loud through my headphones that I had hearing loss at 25. To my mother's disappointment, I even got an Eminem tattoo (and a Hannibal Lecter one).

I know that "I listened to Eminem when I felt angsty" is just about the most cliché thing I could possibly say, but it's true. This music brought me comfort and got me through some of my worst experiences. It made me feel not so alone. Eminem saved my life.

In "Sing for the Moment," Em described perfectly what his music meant to me. I love that. He knows that his art gets people through shit, and he specifically acknowledges those people.

That's why we sing for these kids who don't have a thing

Except for a dream and a fuckin' rap magazine

Who post pin-up pictures on they walls all day long

Idolize they favorite rappers and know all they songs

Or for anyone who's ever been through shit in they lives

So they sit and they cry at night, wishin' they'd die

'Til they throw on a rap record and they sit and they vibe

We're nothin' to you, but we're the fuckin' shit in they eyes

Eminem's music is still what I turn to during depressive episodes. When I'm in a dark place, I lean heavily into these songs and use them as a lifeline. (When I'm happy, I listen to Taylor Swift.)

I hadn't listened to Eminem in a while before this Challenge. It comes and goes; as someone who struggles with mental illness, my moods fluctuate, and I have okay times and then really bad ones. I'm sure I'll have to lean on this music again sometime in the future. But I've been doing better lately, in large part thanks to the support of the Vocal community. It's been a T-Swift couple of months.

One of the nice things about being a latecomer to the Eminem standom is that he had already begun his journey into recovery and self-improvement when I found his music. I got to experience his albums knowing that he was in a happier and healthier place, which made his more rage-filled songs both therapeutic and not so despairing. He was doing better, and maybe someday I would be, too.

I still haven't bought every Eminem song. I own most of the vinyls, but I've got a ways to go before I've fulfilled my pact with God.

That roller coaster ride changed my life. It gave me my favorite artist, my favorite songs, and an invaluable resource for dealing with my mental health issues. And I'm telling you, you have not lived until you've plummeted toward the earth with "Lose Yourself" blasting in your ears. My 8 Mile ride was an experience to remember.

Check out my Teen Angst playlist on Spotify:

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this story, click the heart. And check out some of my other stories and Challenge entries here:

The Dream Date Challenge:

The Sweet Nostalgia Challenge:

The True Colors Challenge:

The (No) Regrets Challenge:

rap
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About the Creator

S. Frazer

She/her • 29 • Aspiring writer

Email: [email protected]

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