Growing Pains
On writing, love, war, New York, & music
The most intimidating thing as a writer is being away from the page for too long. All you do is try and push away the fact that you have to come back to it and when you do you’re expected to be full of vigor and epiphanies. When in reality, staring at the blank space is overwhelming.
I chuckle because the whole point of being a writer is to describe experiences and sensations. Meaning you have to partake in life for you to be able to have things to write about. And that’s what I’ve been doing—living— but it’s almost as if so much time has passed that I don’t know which information is important enough to share. With all that’s transpired, I don’t know the parts of me that are most worthy of the spotlight.
With that being said, I guess I’ll start from the heart. It completely stuns me what’s going on in Israel and Palestine. War is indescribably brutalizing; I genuinely don’t believe there is anything worse. I’ve been as vocal as I feel is appropriate given that I’m not well-versed in Middle Eastern politics, nor is my identity being debated in the general discourse. I understand being an advocate and ally but at a point, there is only so much of an opinion you can have on a situation whose outcome will never deeply affect you in the way it will others. I much rather prefer to give the platform to someone who actually needs it. Nonetheless, I pray for the continuous protection of all the innocent children and civilians. May God restore peace to everyone in the region.
Still, in the realm of my heart, I’ve been dating more openly queer men these last few months, more than I ever have before. It’s been great connecting with people who know who they are and don’t need me to show them. It’s been illuminating to meet so many different people and to hear about how they ended up in LA.
I’ve done all the cool stuff. I’ve been kissed and fondled. I’ve been shown new sides of myself, and the knowledge of my interiority has expanded. Throughout this dating experience, I’ve also been lied to, gaslighted. I’ve made emergency appointments to Planned Parenthood. All is well, but things were scary for a second.
I’m currently dating someone who has pushed me out of my comfort zone. I’m become a borderline dominatrix and our safe word is Watermelon. Dont you worry, I’m workshopping it. Four syllables, with his British accent, is an absolute mouthful. We are intimate but not exclusive and as much as I would be down for us to be partner and partner, I am still seeing other people. I know, I’m the worst.
I just can’t seem to be fully committed to anyone. I’m talking to another, who has the same name as my ex-roommate's cat. They’ve been a great addition to the roster, absolutely brilliant mind. They’re also a writer, which is every writer’s dream. To be in the company of other storytellers. We are the only people that can handle one another.
I visited New York for the first time, two weeks ago for my birthday. I can’t conceptualize my time there professionally enough to write about it. The trip is permanently engrained in my memory and I have all the details but the city moves so quickly that explaining any of my experiences as itemized interactions would sound mundane. It wouldn’t do the trip justice. The wonder of the city is that everything is happening all at once. It is a perfect place for someone like me. I’ve realized that the ultimate freedom is a relinquishing of all labels. My main objective in adulthood is to just ~be~ . I would be the happiest nobody in New York over the most important somebody in LA. And I know I’ll find the words to describe my time there as time goes on, definitely missing who I was when I was there.
Turning 23 has been such a turnoff, I’m not even going to sugarcoat it. I feel like every year up until this point, my inner child has been very satisfied with where I am in life. He’s been impressed by how far I’ve come and what I’ve been able to accomplish and I guess I’m sort of in a limbo right now where I’m not spectacular to him anymore. It feels like society builds all these markers of achievement up until you’re 21/22 and then we’re all just supposed to figure it out after that. No survival guide, just vibes and college debt.
Writing has been daunting. I’ve gotten rejections from several literary mags. I’d be jaded if I wasn’t so unimpressed with the act of living, sometimes. It’s been nice to be able to detach out of hopelessness or depression, probably both, but I’’ve been thinking about releasing the first few chapters of UNMASTERED, via Substack. I know some writers in the MFA Facebook group that have had online releases and it’s inspired me to maybe follow suit. Pass the Baton has been so difficult to write; it feels so much closer to me. I feel like the tone is so aggressive. My 9th-grade English teacher's feedback on my writing has been haunting me. I’ve reached out to her and I’ve received no response. You’d think she’d be over the argument we had almost 9 years ago…
Music is great, for once. My practices and lessons are going well. I have a live show coming up which I’m less nervous and more grateful about. I’ve been meaning to showcase all of the work I’ve put into myself in since I released Ego Battles 2.5 years ago. It’s crazy that I haven’t dropped anything in so long. I feel like I’ve evolved so much as an artist and vocalist. I make different decisions with my runs and I just genuinely take more risks. I’m happy with where I’m at and I’m excited about the collaborative stuff I have coming out with my friends.
I hate that this was not very lyrical or well thought out, but I will make it up to you all who have made it this far. In the next few weeks, I’ll show everyone what I’ve been working on for the last two years. I’ll be vulnerable and let some never-before-seen UNMASTERED pieces do some breathing in your mailboxes. It’ll be difficult but at this point, I would rather my art do the speaking for me. I’ve said more than enough in this lifetime. I exhaust myself.
Love you all…talk very soon :)