Monday, August 17, 2009
So, you want to be a musician?
For whatever reason, a lot of people ask me how to get into music. While I'm flattered that those people think I know what I'm doing, I'm not going to sugarcoat things or lie to them.
I've been singing since I was four years old. I spent over a decade in school choir, community choir, school and community theater, and vocal coaching. I did not just decide one day that I wanted to be a musician. In fact, I didn't really choose music; music chose me. I've know since I was a kid that music was all I wanted to do. It called me. I tried to do other things and nothing ever fit me; my heart wasn't in those things the way it's in music.
If you really want music to be your career, there are some things you should know first.
Being a musician is NOT for everyone. Though, who could really tell with the overwhelming amount of artists these days that aren't talented yet somehow famous, right?
Fact #1
It doesn't happen overnight.
Look, you're not going to post a couple of demos on Myspace and get offers for a record contract the next day. It just doesn't work like that. (Unless, of course, you're friends with Pete Wentz.) Sometimes, less deserving artists make it big quick thanks to their connections. But for most of us, there is work involved. A LOT of work, actually. If you're in a band, you're going to lose members and replace them. If you're a solo artist, you're going to be expected to brand and market yourself. Leave one band and join another? Well, unless the band you left is famous, you get to start from scratch on the next one. That's just the way it works.
Fact #2
Pay your fucking dues
Are you allowed to walk into a store and just take whatever you want without paying for it? No, legally, you are not. So, what makes you think you can walk into music without paying your dues? What makes you think you can expect things to be handed to you? Don't pull that shit. It takes time to build a name for yourself and to earn respect from others. Your first tour is probably going to suck. You're not going to make a lot of money. Your first album may not sell a lot. You may not sell any merch at some shows. Oh well, that's all part of it. You've got to climb the latter to get the top. When you're successful, wouldn't you much rather know that you earned it?
Fact #3
It's not a party.
Now, I know some bands and artists make music look glamorous, but it isn't all sex, money and parties. In fact, the majority of your time is spent writing, recording, promoting, networking and performing. Sure, when you're signed to a major and your records are platinum, it's a lot more exciting. But until then? Have fun working your ass off. Have fun getting used to days without a shower and a month without sleeping in a real bed. Get used to being hungry and tired and annoyed with everyone around you. Get used to a lack of personal space and privacy, because that doesn't exist in a tour van. You'll miss your family/friends/pets/lovers. It's not the party everyone makes it out to be.
Fact #4
You will need to make sacrifices
Not all of your friends are going to be supportive. Not all of your lovers are going to love what you're doing. Not many jobs will hire someone that plans on being gone for a month at a time. I suggest you start a savings account now, because you're going to need the money. Starting out, sure, band practice once or twice a week and shows on the weekend. But when you make the decision to do music full time, it's hard to fit much else in your schedule. Just know that you will , at some point or another, have to make decisions you're not going to like. And that you will likely have to sacrifice other things to pursue music.
I encourage everyone to find their artistic side and do what they love. Music is a beautiful thing and it's a good thing to be a part of. However, if you want to do music purely because you think you're going to become rich and famous and party all the time, you should rethink things. It's work, love, passion, and more work. Do it for the right reasons or don't do it at all. If you love it, pursue it with all you've got.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Giving It All You've Got
Music is a long and exhausting road. I was four years old the first time I performed. I clearly remember being terrified to step on stage, in front of all those people. It wasn’t until the music started playing and the other kids started singing that something inside of me took over and forced me onto that stage. The second I opened my mouth, nervous as could be, the rest of the world just seemed to slip away. It was at that very moment my entire future was decided for me. I’d found a place of my own, better than any toy or imaginary scenario my little mind could create. From then on, music drove me.
I was never like my peers. Never quite fit in, always stood out no matter how hard I tried to blend in with the crowd. When other kids were focused on school work, social lives and dating I was finding any outlet I could to express my “artistic side”. I later realized there was no side; all of me was my artistic side. School choir, community choir, school and community theater, musicals, talent shows, poetry readings, speech and essay contests, vocal coaching, you name it. If music or art was there, you could count me in.
It’s never been about the attention. In fact, I’ve still got my fair share of problems with the spotlight and I still experience stage fright from time to time. But it’s the fear, the nerves, the rush that drive me. When I’m singing, it’s like all is right with the world. My heart is in the right place and everything around me quickly dissolves into a blur.
There are people in this life, however, that can’t seem to comprehend the way the minds and hearts of artists work. They lack the ability to grasp why we’re so connected to what we’re doing. I am convinced that artists are wired a bit differently from the average human being. There’s a feeling that creating gives us that even the best lyricist can’t fully describe. We view the world in a way that even the most incredible painter couldn’t lay out on canvas; that even the best photographer couldn’t capture on film. We cannot simply shake our overwhelming and constant desire to create. Trying to lead a “normal” or “average” life is like sentencing an artist to ten consecutive years of Chinese water torture.
You cannot ask an artist to forsake their calling. You will never win the battle because our crafts are always number one in our hearts.
They call us dreamers; we’re the dream. They tell us we can’t; we prove them wrong. They call us crazy; we say crazy makes for better art. We use all the wrong turns in our lives to take us down the right road, the road that’s been calling our names since birth. Every heartbreak, every painful memory, every scar becomes a song, a picture, a painting, a poem. Each and every person that told us we were foolish is another log thrown onto the fire to keep us warm and keep us going. Consider each negative word gasoline you’re using to fuel our fires. We are the believers, we are the few with hope, we are the future. You only try to keep us down because you envy the fact that we’ve got something your money can’t buy you. That’s right, you can work your 9-5 and you can make that corporate paycheck, but all your money can’t buy you ambition.
I consider myself a business woman as well as an artist. I work hard for what I want, and I’ve laid a lifetime of groundwork for my career. I built a solid foundation from nothing and when everyone snickered at me I just kept building. Each achievement, big and small, is celebrated. Being successful in music has never been a “dream” to me, it’s a reality that I can make happen with the right amount of work. Why are some people so quick to tear others down because their goals in life stray from the “norm”? Who the hell ever decided what was “normal” anyway? Newsflash: There is no such thing as normal. Much like beauty, normalcy is in the eye of the beholder. To me, working a job that I hate just to please other people isn’t normal. Hating my job, my pathetic paycheck and everyone around me is not normal. Who decided that women of a certain age needed to be married with kids to have their lives deemed valuable? I’m sorry, but I don’t measure my self worth by society’s ridiculous and archaic standards; I create my own standards. I’m sorry that you weren’t raised to be an individual, to pursue whatever your heart was tied to, but that does not make you superior to those that don’t conform to your beliefs. Perhaps your life wouldn’t be so miserable if you had learned to live for yourself.
This is where it gets hard. This is where the struggle lies. The more successful you get, the more people start to hate and resent you for it. Likely because you’re doing something they feel they never could. I do believe that jealousy is the root of a lot of people’s hatred. There comes a point when you’re so dedicated to succeed and you’re suddenly expected to choose between what’s more important. Your “friends”, your “family”, they put you in situations that make you torn between them and your passion, your future. You find yourself having to prioritize and cut people out of your life. These are some of the toughest decisions that any artist ever has to make. You can keep these negative people in your life and continue to feel torn, or you can cut them out and continue on your way. I do not like being forced to choose between everything I’ve ever wanted and the people I love. In a perfect world, everyone would be on board and supportive and no decision would be required. I’m a selfish person by nature, yet I never really get to live for myself. It’s always what someone else wants from me, what I can do for them, what they want me to do. When do I get my chance to be happy? I find myself posing this question nearly every day. I get my foot through the door, I make strides, and suddenly I feel claws trying to drag me back down. Why can’t you just be happy for me and let me do what I was born to do? I realized one day, after years of being haunted by this, that I cannot possibly keep up with everyone else’s demands. I also realized that I’m all I’ve truly got and I’m the only person responsible for my own happiness. I refuse to be tied down, I refuse to be caged and I refuse to be belittled for following my heart. If you don’t like what I’m doing, get the hell out of my way and don’t you dare come asking for favors when I’ve made it.
I am an artist, this is my life and no one else is going to tell me how to live it. I’m giving it all I’ve got, whether you like it or not.You are surrounded by artists and you cannot escape us. We will carry on, leading the lives you wish you could and we’ll laugh all the way to the top. We’re not heartless, our hearts are not in the wrong place, you just don’t get access to them. If we seem cold, it’s because you made us that way with all of your negativity. At the end of the day, I’ve got a family comprised of some the best friends anyone could ask for. I’ve got more support than an Apple IT call center, baby.
Stop worrying about us and start worrying about yourselves, because nothing you can say will ever stop us.
I was never like my peers. Never quite fit in, always stood out no matter how hard I tried to blend in with the crowd. When other kids were focused on school work, social lives and dating I was finding any outlet I could to express my “artistic side”. I later realized there was no side; all of me was my artistic side. School choir, community choir, school and community theater, musicals, talent shows, poetry readings, speech and essay contests, vocal coaching, you name it. If music or art was there, you could count me in.
It’s never been about the attention. In fact, I’ve still got my fair share of problems with the spotlight and I still experience stage fright from time to time. But it’s the fear, the nerves, the rush that drive me. When I’m singing, it’s like all is right with the world. My heart is in the right place and everything around me quickly dissolves into a blur.
There are people in this life, however, that can’t seem to comprehend the way the minds and hearts of artists work. They lack the ability to grasp why we’re so connected to what we’re doing. I am convinced that artists are wired a bit differently from the average human being. There’s a feeling that creating gives us that even the best lyricist can’t fully describe. We view the world in a way that even the most incredible painter couldn’t lay out on canvas; that even the best photographer couldn’t capture on film. We cannot simply shake our overwhelming and constant desire to create. Trying to lead a “normal” or “average” life is like sentencing an artist to ten consecutive years of Chinese water torture.
You cannot ask an artist to forsake their calling. You will never win the battle because our crafts are always number one in our hearts.
They call us dreamers; we’re the dream. They tell us we can’t; we prove them wrong. They call us crazy; we say crazy makes for better art. We use all the wrong turns in our lives to take us down the right road, the road that’s been calling our names since birth. Every heartbreak, every painful memory, every scar becomes a song, a picture, a painting, a poem. Each and every person that told us we were foolish is another log thrown onto the fire to keep us warm and keep us going. Consider each negative word gasoline you’re using to fuel our fires. We are the believers, we are the few with hope, we are the future. You only try to keep us down because you envy the fact that we’ve got something your money can’t buy you. That’s right, you can work your 9-5 and you can make that corporate paycheck, but all your money can’t buy you ambition.
I consider myself a business woman as well as an artist. I work hard for what I want, and I’ve laid a lifetime of groundwork for my career. I built a solid foundation from nothing and when everyone snickered at me I just kept building. Each achievement, big and small, is celebrated. Being successful in music has never been a “dream” to me, it’s a reality that I can make happen with the right amount of work. Why are some people so quick to tear others down because their goals in life stray from the “norm”? Who the hell ever decided what was “normal” anyway? Newsflash: There is no such thing as normal. Much like beauty, normalcy is in the eye of the beholder. To me, working a job that I hate just to please other people isn’t normal. Hating my job, my pathetic paycheck and everyone around me is not normal. Who decided that women of a certain age needed to be married with kids to have their lives deemed valuable? I’m sorry, but I don’t measure my self worth by society’s ridiculous and archaic standards; I create my own standards. I’m sorry that you weren’t raised to be an individual, to pursue whatever your heart was tied to, but that does not make you superior to those that don’t conform to your beliefs. Perhaps your life wouldn’t be so miserable if you had learned to live for yourself.
This is where it gets hard. This is where the struggle lies. The more successful you get, the more people start to hate and resent you for it. Likely because you’re doing something they feel they never could. I do believe that jealousy is the root of a lot of people’s hatred. There comes a point when you’re so dedicated to succeed and you’re suddenly expected to choose between what’s more important. Your “friends”, your “family”, they put you in situations that make you torn between them and your passion, your future. You find yourself having to prioritize and cut people out of your life. These are some of the toughest decisions that any artist ever has to make. You can keep these negative people in your life and continue to feel torn, or you can cut them out and continue on your way. I do not like being forced to choose between everything I’ve ever wanted and the people I love. In a perfect world, everyone would be on board and supportive and no decision would be required. I’m a selfish person by nature, yet I never really get to live for myself. It’s always what someone else wants from me, what I can do for them, what they want me to do. When do I get my chance to be happy? I find myself posing this question nearly every day. I get my foot through the door, I make strides, and suddenly I feel claws trying to drag me back down. Why can’t you just be happy for me and let me do what I was born to do? I realized one day, after years of being haunted by this, that I cannot possibly keep up with everyone else’s demands. I also realized that I’m all I’ve truly got and I’m the only person responsible for my own happiness. I refuse to be tied down, I refuse to be caged and I refuse to be belittled for following my heart. If you don’t like what I’m doing, get the hell out of my way and don’t you dare come asking for favors when I’ve made it.
I am an artist, this is my life and no one else is going to tell me how to live it. I’m giving it all I’ve got, whether you like it or not.You are surrounded by artists and you cannot escape us. We will carry on, leading the lives you wish you could and we’ll laugh all the way to the top. We’re not heartless, our hearts are not in the wrong place, you just don’t get access to them. If we seem cold, it’s because you made us that way with all of your negativity. At the end of the day, I’ve got a family comprised of some the best friends anyone could ask for. I’ve got more support than an Apple IT call center, baby.
Stop worrying about us and start worrying about yourselves, because nothing you can say will ever stop us.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Boys Will Be Haters
I don't understand people sometimes, I honestly don't. I suppose I will never really get used to people hating me for no reason; never fully understand why they choose me to be the subject of their shit talking. You hate me so much, yet my name is constantly on your lips. It doesn't make much sense, does it?
These people, grown men, that I've never done a damn thing to, feel the need to trash me to anyone with ears. Posting threads about me on random websites with AIM conversations and harsh remarks. The fact that you lack anything better to do is rather pathetic.
Perhaps it's the way I walk, the way I talk, the way I just don't give a fuck who you are. Maybe it's because I wouldn't give you the time of day, because you couldn't sleep with me, or because we dated and you fucked everything up. Maybe it's because I'm going somewhere, after years of hard work, and you can't stand the fact that you will be stuck in this town for the rest of your miserable existence. And darling, your existence is sure to be miserable at the rate you're going.
I take no shame in being a strong, intelligent and driven woman. I'm sorry that the spotlight has turned to me and you've been left in the dark, but you weren't commanding it's attention.
I shouldn't be expected to apologize for gaining success and I'm not going to. Why should I want anything to do with you? Who the fuck are you, anyway? You're nothing to me, and the rest of the world doesn't care for you either. If they did, you wouldn't be so bitter.
I knew when I started going down this road that not everyone along the way would greet me with open arms and a smile; that not everyone would embrace me. But for every remark the few haters make, there are a hundred other people cheering me along.
You act like I owe you something, like you're some big shot that holds my destiny in the palm of your lonely hands. The reality is, no one outside of this city knows your name and even the people here don't give a fuck about you. The simple fact that you can't even address your problems with me to my face, that you have to use a computer to protect you, shows what kind of "man" you are. You aren't a man. You're an overgrown child that hates anyone and everyone that has what you so desperately long for. You hate anyone that doesn't kiss your ass and indulge you in your fantasy of actually meaning something in this world. That's not my problem, it's yours.
At first I wanted to beat your ass, then I realized what a waste of time and effort that would be. So instead, I will continue to walk with my head held high....leaving stiletto marks down your back as I make my way to the top of a mountain that doesn't want you. I will laugh at how insecure and jealous you are, and I will use your shit talking to fuel my fire.
Your ego is too big for this tiny town, and it's completely out of place. Who are you kidding? It's all bravado, it's all for show.
Go ahead sweetheart, keep talking because talk is all you've got.
These people, grown men, that I've never done a damn thing to, feel the need to trash me to anyone with ears. Posting threads about me on random websites with AIM conversations and harsh remarks. The fact that you lack anything better to do is rather pathetic.
Perhaps it's the way I walk, the way I talk, the way I just don't give a fuck who you are. Maybe it's because I wouldn't give you the time of day, because you couldn't sleep with me, or because we dated and you fucked everything up. Maybe it's because I'm going somewhere, after years of hard work, and you can't stand the fact that you will be stuck in this town for the rest of your miserable existence. And darling, your existence is sure to be miserable at the rate you're going.
I take no shame in being a strong, intelligent and driven woman. I'm sorry that the spotlight has turned to me and you've been left in the dark, but you weren't commanding it's attention.
I shouldn't be expected to apologize for gaining success and I'm not going to. Why should I want anything to do with you? Who the fuck are you, anyway? You're nothing to me, and the rest of the world doesn't care for you either. If they did, you wouldn't be so bitter.
I knew when I started going down this road that not everyone along the way would greet me with open arms and a smile; that not everyone would embrace me. But for every remark the few haters make, there are a hundred other people cheering me along.
You act like I owe you something, like you're some big shot that holds my destiny in the palm of your lonely hands. The reality is, no one outside of this city knows your name and even the people here don't give a fuck about you. The simple fact that you can't even address your problems with me to my face, that you have to use a computer to protect you, shows what kind of "man" you are. You aren't a man. You're an overgrown child that hates anyone and everyone that has what you so desperately long for. You hate anyone that doesn't kiss your ass and indulge you in your fantasy of actually meaning something in this world. That's not my problem, it's yours.
At first I wanted to beat your ass, then I realized what a waste of time and effort that would be. So instead, I will continue to walk with my head held high....leaving stiletto marks down your back as I make my way to the top of a mountain that doesn't want you. I will laugh at how insecure and jealous you are, and I will use your shit talking to fuel my fire.
Your ego is too big for this tiny town, and it's completely out of place. Who are you kidding? It's all bravado, it's all for show.
Go ahead sweetheart, keep talking because talk is all you've got.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Top Ten Song List
A while back I was in Milwaukee, hanging out with a friend as he picked out his Top Ten Songs for some magazine he was going to be in. It inspired me to make a list of my own. It's extremely hard to narrow it down to just ten songs, but I'm fairly confident I've got a good mix.
Top Ten
Just What I Needed- The Cars
More Than A Feeling- Boston
Bohemian Rhapsody- Queen
Punk Rock Princess- Something Corporate
California Love- Snoop, Dre, Tupac
The Middle- Jimmy Eat World
Policy of Truth- Depeche Mode
Can't Take That Away From Me- Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong
The Way You Look Tonight- Frank Sinatra
Any Way You Want It- Journey
Top Ten
Just What I Needed- The Cars
More Than A Feeling- Boston
Bohemian Rhapsody- Queen
Punk Rock Princess- Something Corporate
California Love- Snoop, Dre, Tupac
The Middle- Jimmy Eat World
Policy of Truth- Depeche Mode
Can't Take That Away From Me- Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong
The Way You Look Tonight- Frank Sinatra
Any Way You Want It- Journey
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Crushed
I'm so upset that I find it difficult to form thoughts into words. Thoughts are racing nearly as fast as my heart and I'm still stirring from a "conversation" that took place hours ago. I cannot seem to understand how anyone can spew such hateful words without feeling the slightest bit of remorse. Someone, somewhere along the way, must have broken you into thousands of tiny pieces(much like you did to me tonight).
You are the man that seemingly has everything; fame, fortune, a nice house and expensive cars. You've got friends that would kill for you and fans that bow at your feet. With this comes a flood of girls that will suck you off, fuck you and fulfill your every desire in some sick attempt to get closer to fame. They want a piece of your fifteen minutes, they want a story to tell their friends, and they want to live like they're in the tabloids. They're not really after you, they're after the fantasy. They likely have yet to be screamed at by you. They probably haven't put up with your over dramatic and childish behavior. They haven't stood by your side, and I can guarantee you that if everything you had slipped away tomorrow.... more than 80% of them would lose interest. That's not saying that you don't have anything to offer, it's simply based on the fact that the majority of your groupie girls are desperate, fame-hungry whores. They'll do anything (and anyone) that might make them feel closer to the limelight they would never see otherwise.
I never meant to fall for you. In fact, I spent quite a while trying to deny that I was doing so. Sometimes I would get this rare glimpse into the person you could be, a fleeting moment of the brilliant man that hid beneath the temper and cynicism. At some point, I thought I saw a heart and I spent every moment from then on trying to make it surface again. When you let your guard down, you're one of the most genuinely amazing people that I've ever come in contact with. When you get a little jealous, when you pushed the hair from my face so you could "see my eyes", when you gave me advice and got me through hard times....you were incredible. That man was the man that dreams are made of. Unfortunately, his cameos were few and far between.
I saved my virginity for a very long time in hopes that I would meet the right man who deserved it. Buying me a plane ticket doesn't constitute as "deserving", it's merely an act. A generous act, but an act nonetheless. You may not understand this, but listen very closely: I'm a lady. I'm not the rest of the girls you know. I'm not a whore, a groupie, a fan or some girl with low esteem that will sleep with you in some pathetic attempt to feel better about herself. If anything, I hated myself for sleeping with you. On one hand, I was glad that I gave it up to you because I was wholeheartedly in love. It seemed like the right thing do. On the other hand, I hated myself for allowing you to think that I was just some girl you could fuck one night and throw away the next. I'm not your joke. I'm not the talk of your town. I'm not a story you tell. I'm a lady, and I deserve respect. Perhaps it's my fault for never demanding it from you, but I thought it was a given.
You say that you want a woman with her own opinions, one that can speak freely and stand strong in her beliefs. Why don't you just tell the truth? You want a girl that will never admit when you're being an asshole. You want someone naive enough to let you walk all over them, even when they have the best intentions. You want someone to praise you because you are so insecure that you need constant reassurance; you need someone validating your self worth at all times.
Who was it that broke you so badly? That crushed you and made you so heartless, ruining you for every honest girl to come? We all have our trust issues and we're all guarded to some extent, but you....you're a brick wall. That heart of yours is locked away so tightly that no one will ever get a fair shot to make you happy.
Happiness isn't your money, it isn't your BMWs or your house on the lake. It's not even hanging out with your best friends and having the time of your life. Happiness is loving yourself, allowing others to love you and being capable of reciprocating such a thing. And love, love is not a weapon. It's not something you use against those that care for you with all their hearts. I know you knew, the moment I got off that plane and looked into your eyes, that I was there for all the right reasons. You can have all the doubts about me that you'd like, but you're not the one with this heart in your chest. When I had sex with you, it was because I thought you were the right guy. And when I told I loved you, I meant it with everything in me.
No amount of blogging, Twitter posts or writing songs can ever fully describe the way you've crushed me. You didn't just break my heart; you broke my spirit. For the first time in my life, I believed in love. For the first time, I realized I was capable of loving someone wholeheartedly, and you took that away just as quickly as you made me fall. But you know what? I'm not going to let you ruin me for someone else. I'm not going to let you break me. I'm not going to fall apart. I'm going to pick myself up and power through it like the strong and determined woman that I am. I'm going to smile and laugh knowing that you discarded something so wonderful. I'm going to do what I was born to do, and I'm going to love every moment of it. When I reach the top, I'm going to thank you for fueling the fire.
You can't fool me. You're not half as confident as you would like the world to believe you are. You are a fragile and wounded bird, and I'm tired of trying to fix you with popsicle sticks. If you stumble upon this, I want you to know that none of this is coming from a bitter or angry place; it's written from the heart. I want you to know that a part of me will always love you. I want you to remember that side of you, the brilliant man with the heart, and I want you to make that side show more often. I want you to find love and happiness, even if you can't find it in me. Because THAT'S what love is.
I'm setting you free, but this time I'm not holding out hopes that you'll return. Fly on with your wounded wings until you find what it was you were looking for.
As for me, I'm going to mourn the loss for a while and hope that someday, somehow, this pain will go away.
XoXo
You are the man that seemingly has everything; fame, fortune, a nice house and expensive cars. You've got friends that would kill for you and fans that bow at your feet. With this comes a flood of girls that will suck you off, fuck you and fulfill your every desire in some sick attempt to get closer to fame. They want a piece of your fifteen minutes, they want a story to tell their friends, and they want to live like they're in the tabloids. They're not really after you, they're after the fantasy. They likely have yet to be screamed at by you. They probably haven't put up with your over dramatic and childish behavior. They haven't stood by your side, and I can guarantee you that if everything you had slipped away tomorrow.... more than 80% of them would lose interest. That's not saying that you don't have anything to offer, it's simply based on the fact that the majority of your groupie girls are desperate, fame-hungry whores. They'll do anything (and anyone) that might make them feel closer to the limelight they would never see otherwise.
I never meant to fall for you. In fact, I spent quite a while trying to deny that I was doing so. Sometimes I would get this rare glimpse into the person you could be, a fleeting moment of the brilliant man that hid beneath the temper and cynicism. At some point, I thought I saw a heart and I spent every moment from then on trying to make it surface again. When you let your guard down, you're one of the most genuinely amazing people that I've ever come in contact with. When you get a little jealous, when you pushed the hair from my face so you could "see my eyes", when you gave me advice and got me through hard times....you were incredible. That man was the man that dreams are made of. Unfortunately, his cameos were few and far between.
I saved my virginity for a very long time in hopes that I would meet the right man who deserved it. Buying me a plane ticket doesn't constitute as "deserving", it's merely an act. A generous act, but an act nonetheless. You may not understand this, but listen very closely: I'm a lady. I'm not the rest of the girls you know. I'm not a whore, a groupie, a fan or some girl with low esteem that will sleep with you in some pathetic attempt to feel better about herself. If anything, I hated myself for sleeping with you. On one hand, I was glad that I gave it up to you because I was wholeheartedly in love. It seemed like the right thing do. On the other hand, I hated myself for allowing you to think that I was just some girl you could fuck one night and throw away the next. I'm not your joke. I'm not the talk of your town. I'm not a story you tell. I'm a lady, and I deserve respect. Perhaps it's my fault for never demanding it from you, but I thought it was a given.
You say that you want a woman with her own opinions, one that can speak freely and stand strong in her beliefs. Why don't you just tell the truth? You want a girl that will never admit when you're being an asshole. You want someone naive enough to let you walk all over them, even when they have the best intentions. You want someone to praise you because you are so insecure that you need constant reassurance; you need someone validating your self worth at all times.
Who was it that broke you so badly? That crushed you and made you so heartless, ruining you for every honest girl to come? We all have our trust issues and we're all guarded to some extent, but you....you're a brick wall. That heart of yours is locked away so tightly that no one will ever get a fair shot to make you happy.
Happiness isn't your money, it isn't your BMWs or your house on the lake. It's not even hanging out with your best friends and having the time of your life. Happiness is loving yourself, allowing others to love you and being capable of reciprocating such a thing. And love, love is not a weapon. It's not something you use against those that care for you with all their hearts. I know you knew, the moment I got off that plane and looked into your eyes, that I was there for all the right reasons. You can have all the doubts about me that you'd like, but you're not the one with this heart in your chest. When I had sex with you, it was because I thought you were the right guy. And when I told I loved you, I meant it with everything in me.
No amount of blogging, Twitter posts or writing songs can ever fully describe the way you've crushed me. You didn't just break my heart; you broke my spirit. For the first time in my life, I believed in love. For the first time, I realized I was capable of loving someone wholeheartedly, and you took that away just as quickly as you made me fall. But you know what? I'm not going to let you ruin me for someone else. I'm not going to let you break me. I'm not going to fall apart. I'm going to pick myself up and power through it like the strong and determined woman that I am. I'm going to smile and laugh knowing that you discarded something so wonderful. I'm going to do what I was born to do, and I'm going to love every moment of it. When I reach the top, I'm going to thank you for fueling the fire.
You can't fool me. You're not half as confident as you would like the world to believe you are. You are a fragile and wounded bird, and I'm tired of trying to fix you with popsicle sticks. If you stumble upon this, I want you to know that none of this is coming from a bitter or angry place; it's written from the heart. I want you to know that a part of me will always love you. I want you to remember that side of you, the brilliant man with the heart, and I want you to make that side show more often. I want you to find love and happiness, even if you can't find it in me. Because THAT'S what love is.
I'm setting you free, but this time I'm not holding out hopes that you'll return. Fly on with your wounded wings until you find what it was you were looking for.
As for me, I'm going to mourn the loss for a while and hope that someday, somehow, this pain will go away.
XoXo
Monday, January 12, 2009
Gossip Girl Recap
What a week it was for the over privileged Upper East Siders on Gossip Girl.
- After finally getting in touch with the adoptive parents of the son Lily gave up, Lily and Rufus are conned into believing that he is dead. Really Rufus? You believed that fake newspaper clipping? I knew what was going on the second that creep walked up to the table. Will we ever get to see this mystery bastard child? Something tells me he'll pop up eventually.
- Uncle Jack makes poor Chuck Bass look bad in front of the board of Bass Industries. Poor little rich boy, better wise up before you lose your fortune. Something tells me Jack won't be around long, which would be delightful as I find him entirely too creepy.
- The Means Girls put a hit out on poor Dan Humphrey, our favorite reject from Brooklyn. S finally finds out that they're semi-related, yet still wants to hit it? The Upper East Side is the new South. I think you're taking the term "brotherly love" a touch too far S.
-Eric and Little J get in a spat but quickly make up after finding out that, they too, are family.
- Nate is back. Where were you Mr.Archibald? We missed your pretty face.
- V is back....but, WHY? Please, write her off of the show already.
- Could it be that Blair is REALLY done trying to fix up her bad boy Chuck? Oh B, smack him and set him straight.
Questions
Has anyone ever stopped to wonder just HOW Rufus can afford to send Lonely Boy and Little J to their precious private schools? He never works!
When is Chuck going to find out that Blair hooked up with his pervy Uncle?
Are Dan and Serena going to stick it out despite the fact that they share a sibling and Rufus and Lily are getting back together? Ew.
Guess we'll find out.
XoXo
- After finally getting in touch with the adoptive parents of the son Lily gave up, Lily and Rufus are conned into believing that he is dead. Really Rufus? You believed that fake newspaper clipping? I knew what was going on the second that creep walked up to the table. Will we ever get to see this mystery bastard child? Something tells me he'll pop up eventually.
- Uncle Jack makes poor Chuck Bass look bad in front of the board of Bass Industries. Poor little rich boy, better wise up before you lose your fortune. Something tells me Jack won't be around long, which would be delightful as I find him entirely too creepy.
- The Means Girls put a hit out on poor Dan Humphrey, our favorite reject from Brooklyn. S finally finds out that they're semi-related, yet still wants to hit it? The Upper East Side is the new South. I think you're taking the term "brotherly love" a touch too far S.
-Eric and Little J get in a spat but quickly make up after finding out that, they too, are family.
- Nate is back. Where were you Mr.Archibald? We missed your pretty face.
- V is back....but, WHY? Please, write her off of the show already.
- Could it be that Blair is REALLY done trying to fix up her bad boy Chuck? Oh B, smack him and set him straight.
Questions
Has anyone ever stopped to wonder just HOW Rufus can afford to send Lonely Boy and Little J to their precious private schools? He never works!
When is Chuck going to find out that Blair hooked up with his pervy Uncle?
Are Dan and Serena going to stick it out despite the fact that they share a sibling and Rufus and Lily are getting back together? Ew.
Guess we'll find out.
XoXo
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Products I swear by
For some reason, people (generally women, of course) are often interested in what beauty products I use. Here is a list of the ones I swear by.
Hair Care
Aveda Shampoo and Conditioner in Rosemary Mint or Color Conserve
Aveda Pure Abundance hair spray
Skin Care
Aveda Outer Peace foaming facial cleanser
Aveda All-Sensitive moisturizer
Aveda Botanical Kinetics exfoliant
Make Up
M.A.C. Studio fix fluid foundation
M.A.C. mascara Zoomlash in ZoomBlack
M.A.C. eyeshadows (Crystal Avalanche and Mythology are favorites)
M.A.C. cream colour base in Improper Copper for blush
M.A.C. lipglass in Nymphette or Desire
Tools
CHI flat iron
Aveda make up brushes
M.A.C. sponges
Shu Uemura eyelash curler
Hair Care
Aveda Shampoo and Conditioner in Rosemary Mint or Color Conserve
Aveda Pure Abundance hair spray
Skin Care
Aveda Outer Peace foaming facial cleanser
Aveda All-Sensitive moisturizer
Aveda Botanical Kinetics exfoliant
Make Up
M.A.C. Studio fix fluid foundation
M.A.C. mascara Zoomlash in ZoomBlack
M.A.C. eyeshadows (Crystal Avalanche and Mythology are favorites)
M.A.C. cream colour base in Improper Copper for blush
M.A.C. lipglass in Nymphette or Desire
Tools
CHI flat iron
Aveda make up brushes
M.A.C. sponges
Shu Uemura eyelash curler
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