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let’s try this again.

it’s been a minute. a minute that’s lasted about two years, give or take. but i am reminded of the confucius quote that has followed me since my teenage years:

it does not matter how slow you go, as long as you do not stop.

the past few years have taken me by surprise. i feel as though the dust is finally beginning to settle and i’m somehow still standing. a little broken and bruised but still on my own two feet. if we’re being honest though, i’m not sure who i am anymore. what becomes of the warrior with nothing to fight?

i no longer feel a connection to the identities that once defined me. i’m a washed up musician who still can’t stop writing songs in her head. i’m the estranged eldest daughter who still can’t stop wishing she could hang out with her family again. i’m the long distance friend who didn’t really fit in her hometown in the first place. i’m a retired party girl who still wishes she didn’t need 2-4 days of convincing to leave her apartment. i’m a prolific reader who can only finish books i loved as a child. what becomes of the woman who cannot be labeled?

jack of all trades, master of none. it’s hard to appreciate it at times (especially in times like this) but being a jack of all trades has saved my life. attempting to become the master of these trades had undesired effects. and still, i find myself wanting to be a master of the written word. this, in turn, scares me away from writing because the art of it becomes much more serious. each word is no longer just a word, it’s a building block to a universe that i haven’t even dreamt of yet. each word becomes heavier. my hands move slower to compensate for the weight. the words never come. the budding universe collapses in on itself. what becomes of the creator who is burdened by their creations?

at its inception, this newsletter was for the people. i wrote about and engaged in topics which i knew would garner attention. which isn’t a bad thing, in most cases, but i often forget that i am a part of the people. that i need to be invested in my art, too. i have realized that when i put the people’s perception of my art ahead of my own, creating becomes a chore. so, i am learning to be a little bit selfish. i am also learning to be okay with being a little bit selfish.

in this redux, there are no timelines. no bi-weekly promises in a world where we don’t even know what’s going to happen tomorrow. no categories of content when i’m unable to easily categorize the world around me. i will write when the spirit calls. when i am in tears and not sure how to move on. when i am full of spite. when i am full of love. when i discover a new identity that needs an opportunity to express itself. until next time,