people end up doing and being the same thing,
then expect to called
It’s 2:21 AM on chill February night. I’m up listening to a new EP by one of my favorite producers. I went through some submissions… only posted 2 joints. I have tabs on my browser of other projects and artists people put me on to. I leave the tabs there so I can go back and truly listen to the music when I get a chance.
I go back and forth with a blogger who I recently put on to my artist. They fuck with the new single from the upcoming project. Them and tons of other bloggers and music editors I or my team are yet to converse with. But we appreciate them, their work, and their time. We appreciate the people without blogs or magazines who tweet, facebook, and tumblr the music, just in good will of sharing good music with others. They fuck with us, so we fuck with them.
I woke up early this morning from a deep slumber, since I went to bed extremely late the night before. Was up doing pretty much doing what I’m doing now. Sending emails, reviewing music, reading emails, texting back and forth with the team. It’s a cycle. It’s my cycle of work.
Will it stop? No. It will only spin faster and faster. Kinda like it feels like night after night. Last night, it was fast. Tonight, it’s even faster. Tomorrow night, it’s just gonna be crazy. Not to mention the days and nights leading up to this event we have coming up. Not to mention the days and nights leading up the release of the artist’s next big project.
I’m not complaining. Few years ago, I (“metaphorically”, if that’s the proper word) told the industry it could have my nights, as long as I got to see my mornings. Thus far, the industry has kept it’s promise. I feel blessed. There were nights where I would just lay in bed, wishing for all of this. I can hope and pray that none of it goes away. But the only way of guaranteeing that is by continuing to work. Work smarter. Work harder. Work together with my team and others.
It’s 2:45 AM on this chill February night. I started this entry wanting to write about some other topic. Yet I was moved to acknowledge my blessings through expressing them to others with my words. Tomorrow is another day. Another sunrise. Another step to becoming what I’m truly meant to be. Another chance to count another blessing.
My pillows are calling for me…
I am utterly sick and exhausted of having to explain my plans and goals in life to my parental units. It takes so much energy out of me. I come home at like 10:30pm or 11pm-which is EARLY in entertainment industry terms, and they try to have these serious talks with me about me “hanging out late with those guys”. Yeah, because creating press releases, updating websites, sending out emails, making calls, taking notes at label meetings, taking out of town trips for shows, etc etc all on behalf of an talented recording artist is hanging out late with those guys. Well, aren’t I turning the fuck up and rebelling?! Excuuuuuse me!
When did it become so wrong for young people to be passionate about something that could actually make them successful in life? Why can’t I have a passion for something? Why do I have to be something that I don’t want to be which will in return, make me unhappy for the rest of my life? It’s because of unanswered questions like these that they are probably a lot of depressed (maybe even addicts to some substance or wrong behavior, ex. alcohol, gambling) doctors, scientists, lawyers, etc. These are roles that are supposedly deemed “successful” in society. How is success measured in society? $$$. How do logical people measure true success? =D, as in happiness. For me personally, it’s happiness and mental stability. I don’t want a job that drives me crazy. I don’t even want a job. I want a career. I want purpose in life. And I will achieve that through drive and passion-what is this so hard for parents and society to understand?
And don’t get me started on college. Out of all of the information that I have been taught so far in college, this is my senior year by the way, I have probably used about 35% of it in my actual life and career. Which means that 65% of the tuition I’ve paid (with the help of loans) has been a complete waste. The “college life” never intrigued me, so I never focused on it. I literally go to class, then take my black ass home. But according to my parents, I don’t take college seriously. Oh, but those who get wasted, constantly skip class, etc, do? My bad for having it all wrong. My bad for using my free time out of school to work a regular ass job and to work on my career. Clearly, I’m fucking up. FUCK THAT!
When it comes to whether or not I cleaned the bathroom right or if I don’t exercise enough or don’t check my car for needed repairs-I will generally don’t argue with my parents because generally, they are right. So I’ve learned to shut up, fix the problem, and remember to do better in the future. No true energy wasted there. But I will argue with them when it comes to my career and my future. I have to fight for that. Because if I don’t, why would anyone else? Sometimes the only way to show that you are passionate about something is to fight for it. If I wasn’t passionate about what I do and believe in the people I work with, why the fuck would I be doing it? All the time, money, blood, sweat, and tears I have given up to do what I do-CLEARLY what I’m doing must be important to me.
As much as I would like to just sit there and zone out what my parents are shouting at me, I can’t. Cause if I did, I would be stuck with a job I don’t like, with “bosses” controlling what I do with my time, have a family and be a miserable mother who hates her job, and die an old woman with no true legacy who hated her miserable life. I refuse to let that happen. Therefore, I fight. I fight with passion for my purpose in life.
i know there’s plenty of fish in the sea
but there is also just one,
just one that’s right for me.
when and where will i find him?
will he ever find me?
i just want to be loved.
but finding love isn’t so easy.
it’s been a few years since i first fell in love with your music. for months, your music would be the only thing i listened to. because of it, we connected. inspiration and motivation was what was exchanged between us.
as time went by, you gained more notoriety and quite frankly, it seem like it got to your head. the sound i loved was fading. the artist i knew was disappearing.
a man made tornado of bullshit spun around our way and literally tore us apart. even though we thought it was okay for a while, we just didn’t have the proper glue to keep it together. all good things came to an end.
though i truly doubt we will ever connect like we once did, i never stopped loving your sound. not the sound influenced by hype and arrogance. but the sound you created with your heart, mind, and soul. the sound where traffic lights turned blue and the cars were vintage and dusty. the sound of love lost and wasted youth. the sound i could relate to.
i say all of this to say that… even though you probably no longer care about my existence and i could care less about yours, till this day…
i still press play.