Author: gemmerzz

“last night i gave my heart to a fake one…”

 

four months.

i gave myself an extra week after my last post which was just prior to my dad’s death anniversary. i thought an extra week would give me time to do whatever it is my mind and body does at this time of the year.

four months.

but here i am. i made it. and ironically, i had to be couped up on a plane for 5 hours on my way to the opposite coast before i even considered writing something down. i mean, there’s only so much in-flight trivia one can play.

the last four months have been busy—externally, anyway. my schedule has been insane. i’ve been going to at least one show per week, proving only that i still have a few years in me. i feel old. i feel like i don’t fit in. but it also feels… familiar.

on mother’s day, i was having lunch with my mom and, as usual, we had an in-depth conversation about my dating status—or, in my case, why i’ve opted not to date for over a year now. i told her that i had spent time reflecting back on my last 4 back-to-back relationships and i felt like i couldn’t distinguish the things i enjoyed vs the things i maybe did just for the sake of my partner.

did i actually like muscle cars? or was that just a result of dating a guy who was part of a mustang car club immediately followed by a relationship with a guy who was part of a camaro car club? did i like rap shows and vinyl? or was that part of being “with the dj“? did i enjoy fishing or did i just like spending that time with my partner? i’m sure it sounds like i should have known the answers to those questions. maybe it should have been obvious. but i felt conflicted. sixteen consecutive years in relationships… who the fuck had i evolved into? and more importantly, how far astray is that person from who was i sixteen years ago?

in the same manner, after my last relationship, i focused entirely on my dad and my family. the kids became my life. their interests became mine. i stopped going to rap shows and started taking them to pop shows. i prioritized watching family movies over my usual action and superhero flicks. my weekend vegas trips turned into disneyland trips.

this year, i made a commitment to myself to try and rediscover who i am. today. what do i love? what makes me happy?

my mom basically told me that she’d seen me flip flop like this and she was happy that i was working on finding… joy.

go to your rap shows!,” she exclaimed. indeed, mom, i will. and i have.

i feel like i need to figure out these things—that being the things that make me happy—before i jump into my “something next“.

i strongly feel that the best version of myself is within reach.

i’m almost there. i’m almost ready for you.

stay woke, i’m coming.

“smoking cuz it’s therapeutic, drinking cuz it’s therapeutic… and since all eyes on me right now, watch how i do it”

 

i was sick all week, so i wasn’t as productive as i wanted to be, but i very much needed the rest. i’ve officially been sick more days in 2017 than healthy, and i am going to do my best to change that for the remainder of the year, starting now.

i’m also giving myself an extra week to take on these to-dos. since this week marks the third year since my dad passed away, i’m going to give myself time to mournreflectremember. he deserves that.

week four

  • clean pantry of expired items
  • go for a run?
  • move unused kitchen appliances to basement
  • clean ceiling fans
  • bake something paleo
  • label and organize 12″ singles & promo records
  • pick up at least 2 crates of records from storage

week five/six

  • clean pantry of expired items
  • go for a run?
  • move unused kitchen appliances to basement
  • clean ceiling fans
  • bake something paleo
  • pick up at least 2 crates of records from storage
  • find a new therapist

“i’m just trynna live as free as i can while i’m existing in this realm… i swear it’s hell until you break free, but imma break the boundaries before the boundaries ever break me”

 

wasn’t feeling much like writing today, but i realized i owed myself a post on this week’s to-dos. last week was a bit out of sorts because, while i didn’t get to cross off a lot of the items on my list, i crossed off quite a few that would have been on the list this week and next. so, i’m not gonna beat myself up for it.

week three

  • clean pantry of expired items
  • go for a run?
  • move unused kitchen appliances to basement
  • pack a box for salvation army
  • clean ceiling fans
  • bake something paleo
  • file taxes

week four

  • clean pantry of expired items
  • go for a run?
  • move unused kitchen appliances to basement
  • clean ceiling fans
  • bake something paleo
  • label and organize 12″ singles & promo records
  • pick up at least 2 crates of records from storage

hoping i can snap out of whatever funk i’m in to take on this week’s list.

“despite her past, she can’t help the attraction… he tells her that he’s nothing like the last one… he redefines in every way what love is… she fell for him and hasn’t gotten up since”

 

on thursday i had a chance to see russ, a young rapper/singer i’ve been following for some time now. people who know me would probably think his style doesn’t really fit what i normally listen to. ironically, i’m in so deep with this kid that i couldn’t tell you the difference anymore.

in his track exposed, russ says “[artists’] fans are fickle cuz your come up is a mystery… my fans gon stick with me cuz me and them got history“. and at least for me, this is true.

this is the story of me and russ.

it was 2012 when i first listened to his vacation mixtape. it was a friday and i was with my dad at his chemo appointment. i streamed the album and was taken by the let me know track that samples from the isley brothers’ song of the same title.

to set the scene a bit better, i had just left my relationship of six years leaving behind a dog and car. i moved back in with my parents… in my thirties. my dad was just diagnosed with cancer. there was a lot going on.

but russ and i met somewhere in the middle. he had lyrics that were angry and beats and melodies that were… hopeful… optimistic. (i call his style rap&b now.) so i started listening more closely to his story every friday at chemo. and week after week, i knew him a little more than the last. and i felt like his words were often mine.

“god damn, lord
give me a sign
give me your words
give me your sight
give me your mind
cuz i’m feeling blind
deaf and dumb
my soul is on a leash
sayin please let me run.”
—russ, let me know.

ultimately, he made me feel like i wasn’t alone. everything i was feeling, he was somewhere feeling it, too. and so i was hooked. i’ve been listening to every new russ track and album since. because that’s what music is supposed to do, right? tell a story. bring people together. make you feel things.

but all things said and done, russ reminds me of my dad. he reminds me of my ex(es). he reminds me of pain as much as he reminds me of love. i’d had a chance to see him last year, and i was so excited about it. he was performing at venue oakland and i had my tickets already lined up. but it was just after father’s day and i was feeling… empty. i just couldn’t muster up the courage to be in the audience listening to track after track that reminded me of my dad. so i skipped it.

but the thing was that i also needed his music more than ever. he’d become my new “spring love” by stevie b, which used to be the one song i’d never skip. no matter what mood i was in, it always made me feel better.

2016 was a big year for me and russ—the things i experienced, the things i felt. the track on this post, losin control, was especially important to me… as i cut off guy after guy from my life in an effort to start fresh. to figure myself out. to understand what i wanted and what i needed to do to get there. but even beyond that, in the context of being hurt by just about anyone—friend, foe, family… betrayal in general. the song… was me. is me.

on thursday, russ put it all on stage. he told his story. he told my story. he made me feel good. as though his come up is my come up, too.

and i sure am counting on that.

“moving to the rhythm of my intuition, anything i want i speak into existence… that’s how i’m living, that’s how i’m winning”

 

i was having a conversation the other day with a friend about her dating life. she mentioned that she had read an article advising single women that, in order to find a man, they needed to make room in their lives for a man. literal room, not emotional room.

and then he would come.

as my friend continued updating me on her recent dating experiences, my thoughts wandered to the dozens (hundreds? more?) of women who may have read this article—written by a woman—and have emptied half their closets and dressers, upgraded from their full-size beds to queen or king-size beds, and moved all their beauty products to the left side of their double-sinks.

so that he would come.

how utterly depressing, i thought. i mean, the hypothesis on its own wasn’t a bad one in my opinion. i just think it’s much less literal and far more everything else. like hey, make room in your heart, mind, and soul first. then move on to your house, yeah?

and as i’m having these thoughts in my head—with my friend still talking, by the way—i realized that i’m just not in a place where i’m ready to make that kind of room… emotionally.

around this time last year, i’d made a decision to take a “break” from guys and dating to give myself the opportunity to figure out what i actually wanted from a partnership. because if my last 5 consecutive relationships were any indication, i clearly had no idea.

and a year later, though i still don’t think i know exactly what i want from a man, i have a much better idea of what i want from myself.

so imma keep doing me. because i like what i’m seeing, and that’s what matters.

on that note, here’s where last week’s to-dos landed and what i’ve got planned for this week:

week two

  • read a book (again)
  • start alphabetizing records
  • clean fridge/pantry of expired items
  • try a new recipe
  • go for a run?

week three

  • clean pantry of expired items
  • go for a run?
  • move unused kitchen appliances to basement
  • pack a box for salvation army
  • clean ceiling fans
  • bake something paleo
  • file taxes

“thinkin of my lonely days stuck in my room bawlin… rain on the window mirror, saw the tears i let go… my pride and all these scars inside… it’s time for me to let go”

 

for the curious minds, here’s how i did on last week’s “to-do” list as well as my rather optimistic choices for this coming week:

week one

  • bring pants to get altered
  • pack one box for salvation army
  • buy storage bins for basement
  • read a book

week two

  • read a book (again)
  • start alphabetizing records
  • clean fridge/pantry of expired items
  • try a new recipe
  • go for a run?

oh, also—i didn’t just read a book last week. i read three books last week. that’s what happens when you have as many doctor’s appointments (read: lots of waiting) in a week as i had. but that’s a story for a different day…

there was one other item i took on last week that i didn’t write down on my list—i took a break from social media.

just after the election, i managed to take a one month long “break” from social media (minus twitter because i felt like that audience was more… contained?) anyway, in the last couple of weeks, the political climate showed no improvement… no… hope? everything and everyone was so negative. drastically so. dramatically so. and it was just too much for me.

i started by unfollowing people, brands, and companies that were encouraging and spreading negativity, or who were showing an overwhelming vested interest in the art of not-making-things-better. as my poor fingers quickly became tired from all the unfollowing, i decided just to delete all the apps.

take. a. break.

it’s a simple sentiment—perhaps overly simplified—but one i think so many people would benefit from right now. there are people out there who are literally spending their days and nights creating memes about our unfortunate state of affairs. every morning a new article comes out, a new celebrity has an opinoin, another rapper releases a politically-charged single, another business is being dragged in the mud. and people, like little puppets, are just spreading filth and encouraging rage.

for example, there is someone out there who started a list of all the horrible decisions trump has made in the last 2+ weeks. broken down by day.

let that sink in for a minute—not that trump is out there making questionable decisions, but that people are spending their lives documenting the “horror”. DAILY. and then with one share, it goes viral. this has become the lives of many. SO MANY. living, breathing, and sleeping this. forgetting all else that matters.

and there are those things, you know. other things that matter. people have forgotten how to be productive—how to make a real difference. and maybe just start with your life. don’t try to get the world together… get yourself together.

conclusion: be like me. make a fucking to-do list, america.

“it’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life for me… and i’m feeling good”

 

when i kicked off my little writing project in september, i focused on getting myself to write a little bit every day. i started strong and it felt pretty damn good. the problem was that it just wasn’t… scalable. it was tough to set aside time every single day. and when i missed a day (or two), it was much harder to come back.

and really, it was much harder to want to come back. i’d made writing a chore rather than just allowing myself more time to focus on doing what i love.

at the same time, i tried to read a little every day, and workout, and eat paleo.

overachiever, i know.

and so, i failed. at all of it.

but we saw that coming, right? i tried to change—overnight.

as i failed at each of these things, there was something i wrote in my journal entries:

“but tomorrow is a new day. it always is.”

and it was true. it still is.

so in the spirit of chinese new year, i’m starting over.

for me, this new year is all about progress and productivity. so i’m going to start each week with a simple to-do list—two or three realistic items that can (and should) be done each week. and if i don’t happen to complete it in that week,
i’ll just roll it over to the next week.

so, like for this first week…

week one

  • bring pants to get altered
  • pack one box for salvation army
  • buy storage bins for basement
  • read a book

the goal is to be able to walk into 2018 looking back and saying, “damn, i did all that.”

which, let’s be honest, is a huge improvement from 2017’s “damn, wtf?”

let’s just see where the year takes us, eh?

“i wrote my way out… when the world turned its back on me, i was up against the wall… i had no foundation, no friends and no family to catch my fall”

 

it’s the eve of chinese new year and i’m spending some time reflecting… not necessarily on the last year, but on life.

it’s no question that the last year was a challenge, but just as i begun to think that the year couldn’t get worse, i found myself feeling the darkest moments of it in its final weeks.

in september, i started an exercise to force myself to write again, and on a daily basis—some of it, i eventually posted here, but most of it is in a journal. it started out really cathartic—encouraging me to deal with feelings i’d otherwise suppressed. but it quickly started to unearth feelings i didn’t realize i was having. and much of it quickly broke me.

i’ve since stopped journaling. it was too… exposing.

but in the spirit of the new year, i’ve been reading through my entries. and on september 28th, i wrote words i’d never imagined i’d think much less write out…

“if i’m not an auntie, who or what am i?”

between my two brothers, i have nine nieces and nephews. as if that weren’t plenty, when you also take into consideration the children of my cousins and friends, i have A LOT of nieces and nephews. while i’ve never really been keen on having kids of my own, i loved, loved, LOVED being an auntie. and everyone would tell you i was the best damn auntie they’d ever known. that was my thing.

the problem with this was that i’d lost myself in the process. who knows exactly at what point that happened, but it became very obvious this past year.

there was an incident that happened within my family last year—and i’m not going to talk about the incident itself so as to protect the privacy of the kids involved—but it occurred “under my watch“, so to speak. to be clear, i didn’t know it happened until a week or so after the fact. still, there’s no question the amount of guilt i felt just thinking that maybe if i’d done anything differently at that time, that i could have prevented it.

it didn’t matter.

because as soon as word spread about what happened, i wasn’t anything more than an auntie—and a bad one at that.

it’s as though i just ceased to exist…

as a daughter,
a sister,
a cousin,
a niece,
a friend.

everyone just disappeared. and i was made an enemy.

all of a sudden, i was the one they distanced themselves from. i’m the one they stopped talking to. i’m the one they blocked or unfriended/unfollowed on social media.

just like that.

after being the one who only ever tried to help. after being the one who would listen at any hours of the day. after being the one who, without hesitation, spent time, effort, and money. after loving unconditionally.

only to be met with conditions.

and so, as hard as it was, i spent the following months learning how to love myself first—to not take for granted the qualities that made me the auntie i was and to be proud to be that… person.

maybe i’m not the world’s greatest auntie anymore. maybe those days have come to an end. but i’m a damn good… person.

and as we enter a new year, i am embracing her.

and i sure as hell won’t apologize for it.

happy new year, y’all.

“i think it’s time to kill for our women… time to heal our women… be real to our women”

 

today marked a historic and amazing day for our country. for our country’s women. actually, even for women all around the world—hundreds of countries and millions of people supporting the fight for women’s rights. still. in 2017.

and i spent the entire weekend at home, feeling almost hypocritical—feeling like less of a woman because i wasn’t out there. because i didn’t physically participate in any of the nearby marches.

there were many reasons i didn’t go, some of them more solid than others, but as i watched highlights from many of the events (through social media, mostly), i was so proud to be a woman. and even though i didn’t “represent” for women today, i’ll have to tomorrow. and the day after. and the ones after that for as long as i’m alive.

but i’m excited to do that more than ever. because it matters. because it affects me. because it affects you.

shout-out to all the women who represented in some way, shape, or form today.

this was not just an event. this is a lifestyle.

“i’ve been thinkin bout you… do you think about me still… or do you not think so far ahead”

 

“Shallow men believe in luck or in circumstance. Strong men believe in cause and effect.”
― Ralph Waldo Emerson

i’ve always considered myself a realist. and by no means do i profess that in a proud way… not 100% of the time anyway.

like ralph waldo emerson implies, realists are deliberate. we’re intentional. we like to influence (read: control) what happens. we don’t believe in leaving things to chance or fate. things happen because we made them happen.

realists are pessimists. we fear the unknown. we lack romance and whimsy. we over analyze. we don’t take risks. we’re always calculating the next step and can completely miss what’s in front of us.

but recently, and mostly due to a few experiences with friends of mine, i’ve found myself questioning the idea of ‘signs’—serendipity, if you will.

someone i know has been crossing my mind a whole lot lately… as a result (i think) of ‘signs’. for example:

  • frequent dreams with them in it
  • seeing/hearing their name and initials everywhere
  • realizing that for the last 4 years, i’ve been staring at their face 5 days out of the week but have only noticed now
  • getting lost and finding myself at places i’d been with them
  • …and at least 4 other (and more specific) instances that i actually can’t describe without exposing the person. ha.

for the first few weeks, i didn’t think much of it. a couple of my (female) friends were with me when these things occurred, and they insisted they were ‘signs’. (and yes, i specified the gender of my friends because i do think this is a thought process that women typically inherit over men. sorry.) my natural instinct did not follow suit—i just don’t really overthink things like this. and when i say ‘like this’, i actually just mean positive things. because i sure as hell overthink negative things. anyway, at most, i was concerned that some of these were signs to check-in on this person… just to make sure they were okay. as though these were just reminders for me to be a friend. (because we are… friends.)

as the weeks went on, i’d find myself just furiously shaking my head—as though to (literally) get out all distracting ideas that these were ‘signs’ at all. it was all coincidence. right?… right?

but it’s been months now. every. freaking. day. for MONTHS.

i’ve told myself on several occasions (and out loud) to “get it together, gemma”.

this is not like me.
this is foreign.
this is terrifying.

thankfully, this year is all about letting go of control—letting go of myself a little.

so we’ll let this play out at the pace it’s intended to. it doesn’t need to mean anything. but if it does, i don’t need to know what it means right now. shit, i’m not ready to know what it means right now.

but hey, look at me—not completely disbelieving in ‘signs’ and shit. welcome to 2017.