Someone Else's Legacy.

I was once heavy into the music scene. I sang, wrote songs, and performed in smoke filled venues with fellow musicians. I served as a sounding board for some. A muse for others. At the time, I had not quite absorbed the magnitude of my own ability to make an impact on the life of another individual. I was open with my heart and free with my stories and laughter. I suppose this is a blessing, and a curse.

I floated along boldly, with purpose. My purpose being, to exist as my most honest and authentic self. And I did. I was open and unabashedly real while writing with others. My writings were not those of an individual who cared what may be interpreted by another mind or heart. Critics were welcomed to say how they felt. My only care was my own analysis of the current state of my heart. Of my personal thoughts. Of my own mind and what I could do to change the things I critiqued that directly effected my own life. I am the one who must exist in this skin. It has always been up to me to better the soul that exists within. 

My memories and snapshots of such tiny particles. The ones that make up all of who I am now. The choices I have made to remedy the past moments that brightened me or broke me. The pieces I picked up and re-framed. Crafted into a present day that would never exist had I not lived through those moments. 

I rarely revisit those places. 

Sometimes in prayer, God reminds me of something He has guided me through and I am always filled with gratitude for such times. They were my guideposts. My turning points. Sometimes, they were my red flags. 

As I found myself surrounded by fellow musicians, songs began being written and performed about me. About my current situation, at whatever moment in time was framed by another individual. An “artist” who made my story their own. They composed their personal version and set it to their own melody. Spun my reality into something they now possess, and still, to this day, sing it to crowds of strangers who will never know my story. Only the version they hear repeated.

One such song was composed, without my permission, at a time in my life that I would never have chosen to immortalize. But still, the words continue to float throughout rooms and time and space, creating this whole separate life for someone I no longer know. It is their most downloaded song, to date. It is requested, regularly. It touches people who may never actually understand what it even means. Or ever even meant. It was dirtied and written to fit a narrative that never was. Perhaps to this individual, but never to me. 

For me? It is a still-frame from my memory bank. A moment I remedied and fondly conquered. A situation I never permitted to even be shared, is used as monetary gain for someone who only remembers a perception of a story heard from a free spirited girl, just passing through. A story that unfolded so many lifetimes ago.

I would be lying if I said this wasn’t an uncomfortable position to be in. 

And I have held this inside for so very long, not knowing how to handle it. How to feel. 

Until this morning when my prayers led me to question what my legacy is today, and God reminded me of all the many things we have been through together. 

If anything, this is the opposite of my legacy. On the contrary. It was taken and made into their own. He has carried a snapshot of my own past misfortunes into his own present day routine. Night after night, this story leaves his lips in the form of a song and floods the emptiness of venues, playing into the ears of those who decide to listen and interpret it. To perhaps make it their own. 

It is what this individual is known for. 
Her.

Ya know? That girl who went through hell over a decade ago? 

This musician has written her into his present day. He carries her in a guitar case and sings passionately about her plight. He depends upon her pain and holds her teardrops in a jar labeled “tips”. Her ghost lives on in his fingertips as he forces her skeleton to dance along on his nightly playlist. He has to keep her alive because all of his own stories are unremarkable and played out. 

She is his legacy. 

Her story is what he is remembered by. He pays his rent with the echoes of her pain, all the while lying to himself about some rewritten version of him ever being anything close to her hero. 

I have lost count of the times I have entertained the idea of asking him to retire that particular song. A skeleton of the past that never should have existed... But all these years later, I can only pity the emptiness that must live on in that person. She will never be my legacy.

My legacy today is eons away from this distant chapter of my life. That girl ceased to exist a long time ago. God showed her which new path to take, and while stretching her hands to the Heavens, smiling through tears and praising the new sunrises, she was resurrected.

Today, I am grateful for my legacy. I am proud of it. It is my own. 

My song to sing. 

My own melody. 

And it is beautiful. 

New York, New York - pt. 2

That morning was cool a bit drizzly out. I could not wait to see Nick, and the anticipation was one of beautiful proportions. Growing up, Nick and I were inseparable. Since the age of 10, very few days of my life were spent without talking to him for hours on the phone. When we turned 20, Nick had  moved to Wilmington, NC to be on the show Dawson’s Creek, and a few years later, headed to New York City to pursue a career in acting. He has visited NC and stayed with me at my house for a week, but we hadn’t seen one another in about 2 years. 

I was pretty certain Samuel and I had made it to the appropriate stop, and we exited the train. I shot a text to Nick and soon saw him walking toward us, just a half a block away. I ran and hugged him  for as long as I could, and he wished me a happy birthday. What a way to spend my 31st! 

I introduced Nick to Samuel, and we all three went strolling through China Town, in search of random knock offs and such. I will never forget that day. The bug had bitten me, and the bite was a hard one. Nick immediately called it. “Once you’ve been bitten by the New York City bug, you’re never the same”. True words. 

I was getting comfortable, already. Not surprising, because it wasn’t hard for me to adjust to a new place, but this was so very different. The atmosphere, the energy, and the people? And don’t even forget the food...

This place was mine, already. 

Some hours ticked by, and Samuel and I needed to head back to our hotel. We had scheduled a cab to take us to the airport, and I still needed to pack up my last few purchases from the morning. 

We met back up with our group, grabbed our luggage, jumped into our cab, and away we went. I cried when I left that city. When I said goodbye to Nick. When I knew it was where I was supposed to be, yet I was going “home”. 

The rest is all just boring travel antics. A delayed flight, an intoxicated man sitting behind of me on the plane, and arriving home, still feeling like life was all a dream. All I could wonder about was, how would I find a breakfast omelette the next morning in our little southern town? Apparently, Samuel was thinking the same thing. The following morning, he showed up at my apartment and asked if I had eaten breakfast, yet. We managed to find a diner down the road from my apartment that wasn’t half bad. But, oh...it was still not even the same. 

Two months later, I changed all of that. Somehow, my hearts desire became my reality. 

New York, New York

Of all the things that led me on this journey, I cannot help but always go back to the times I spent reading the Twilight Series. As cheesy as it may sound, the resistance to put down those four novels was indescribable. They carried me from a place of monotony into a place where anything felt possible. I recall seeing it's glossy cover in Brunswick on my 30th birthday trip to Jekyll Island and feeling drawn to it. Upon returning to to the film sets, I remember spending an entire week, devouring each page. I spent my days applying the appropriate makeup to characters and helping run lines, and floated into the nighttime lost inside of each novel. 

I still have the little pink book light I used, so as to avoid awakening the other housemates. 

I suppose the combination of creating a new world on set and reading about anther kind of world after dark, made it most appealing. That, and the cheesy movies that were based on these novels had not yet been made. 

After the wrap party, the producer Samuel, informed me that he had purchased a plane ticket for me to New York. I was to accompany a select group of individuals to an event in Times Square to promote our film and show the completed trailer. I was absolutely elated. I had never been on a plane before and had an excuse to buy a fancy new dress. 

I didn't sleep one single wink the night before the flight. I was up packing, touching up my hair, and breathing pure adrenaline due to the excitement. Samuel showed up before the sun even began to kiss the earth, and we all headed to the airport. After checking our bags and getting through security, we grabbed a sandwich and boarded the plane. An extremely short flight later, I was already feeling the lack of sleep, but my trusty adrenaline was still ever present. I grabbed my luggage and we flagged down a cab. 

Our hotel was absolutely beautiful, but held the tiniest rooms I had ever had the pleasure of staying in. The event began that evening at 7:00, so we still had some time to explore the city. That first day was all a blur, but I do recall grabbing a slice of pizza and hanging out in our hotel rooms. I slipped on my black dress, stepped into my strapped heels, and the group headed on foot toward Times Square. It was March, the night before my birthday, and the weather was crisp, but tolerable. By the second block, I was regretting the heels and realized my feet may very well fall off. We arrived at the location and followed a set of stairs, leading us to a huge room filled with creators of all kinds. Musicians, film makers, comedians...Artists are my favorite kind of people. 

We handed out business cards for about an hour and our film trailer was shown. Applause followed and I was quite impressed with what a group of people who had only done one film, had accomplished. The rest of the night was spent mingling, networking, and making connections. Connections I had no idea would bring me back to that city one month later. 

I was running on no sleep, and we were leaving the event at midnight. We found a restaurant in Times Square and went for some food. I have no idea what I even ordered. Pure exhaustion had set in.  By this time, we all felt like family. I made my exhaustion known to the Samuel, and instead of walking back to our hotel, he paid some men on bicycles to drive us back in a little buggy. I had no idea that in two months time, I would become used to this method of transportation. 

We awakened early the next day and really explored the city, the empire state building, and definitely had an exciting day. My best friend Nick lived in the city and we had yet to coordinate our schedules for a meeting time. So, the next day, I decided to let everyone else do their own thing, take the subway to Canal Street to meet Nick, and get back to the hotel in time to hop in a cab and get to the airport. I packed the night before, set my alarm to the song "Poker Face" by Lady Gaga because it was the most annoying thing I had ever heard, and I knew it would awaken me. 
By this point, I was still not 100% caught up on sleep, and desperately needed some coffee. Samuel and I had discovered this amazing little diner that served such amazing omelettes, that I still dream of them to this day. So we walked downstairs, and around the corner to fuel up. That was just one more thing I was already falling in love with. Being within walking distance to everything. By this point, Samuel had decided to join me on my quest to see Nick. After two cups of coffee and some conversation, we boarded the subway and sat down. I was pretty certain I had taken us onto the correct train, but only time would tell. As I navigated the ride in my head, a group of men came into our car and began singing. Samuel was elated and we threw money into their hats. That may very well have been the moment I fell in love with New York City. 

To Be Continued...

I Just HAD to do this... My Version of "Royals"

When we were teenagers living in the midst of nowhere, my friends and I used to write our own songs. We were the "Weird Al's" of the South, for sure!
This song was far too tempting to ignore.
This is my rendition of
ROYALS:


I've seen so many diamonds in the flesh
I cut my teeth on men who swore they meant it...

And I'm not sure of my address
Goin' town to town...What post code is this?

But every day's like Write this, sing that, pack another suitcase
tweet it, edit, don't forget the train case.
We don't care. We're flying private planes in the sky.

But everybody's like sound check , backup, watch over the soundboard

Find the right shade, dont forget to contour.
We don't care...Not everybody can take a dare.

And we'll never be sorry
We've come too far with this
Not giving up on finding bliss

And making sure we never miss

You can call me crazy

You can call me home free
And baby I'll live (I'll live...I'll live...I'll live)

You can never hinder me.

My friends and I, we keep it real

We don't pretend to live a life

of mediocrity.

And everyone who knows us knows that we roll with it

we live our lives and mean it.

But every day's like Write this, sing that, pack another suitcase
tweet it, edit, don't forget the train case.
We don't care. We're flying private planes in the sky.

But everybody's like sound check , backup, watch over the soundboard

Find the right shade, dont forget to contour.
We don't care...Not everybody can take a dare.

And we'll never be sorry
We've come too far with this
Not giving up on finding bliss

And making sure we never miss

You can call me crazy

You can call me home free
And baby I'll live (I'll live...I'll live...I'll live)

You can never hinder me.

That Which She Craves.

Once again, words circulate throughout my entire being. They flood my mind and situate themselves into the appropriate corners, nestling deep within a world that is without limitations. 

Forever and a day ago, I felt them befriend my world. Ideas began becoming a reality in my own life and dreams began coming true. Watching a life so surreal unfold, until the bar was raised, once more. 

Now, my mind is craving this life, once again. More adventures. More stories to tell. More details without limitation. More fuel for creativity and new environments in which to create, within.

The life of a writer is such a sweet thing.

We get to live life twice. 

This Is My Atmosphere

This is my atmosphere.

Lack of integrity, class, and character, is not welcome here.

Integrity – 1. adherence to principles;honesty

2.The quality of being unimpaired; soundness

3. Unity; Wholeness

Class – 1. Principled uprightness of character; personal integrity.

2. To hold in respect; esteem.

3. To show respect for.

Character - The mental and moral qualities distinctive to an individual.

As a general rule, love does conquer all. It takes a big person to truly love and be kind to other human beings, whether they be “up to par” or not. When I look at another human being, I search for light. For goodness. For compassion. In other words, I search for integrity and class. Honor and graciousness. An individual who knows exactly who they are, without feeling the need to use others' misfortunes as a way to earn value, respect, or gain laughs.

I once had the misfortune of being exposed to a very condescending, negative, judgmental, individual. This person found humor in the unfortunate things in life. They relished in the idea that whatever happened, they could always trump another person's status or personality, with a negative comment regarding said person.

In retrospect, I realized that this individual had no real identity of his/her own. This is why the only things of interest to speak about seemed to always be at the expense and degradation of others. Had they truly been acquainted with character and class, conversations would have never even touched upon the negative. But rather, things of good report, funny stories about the ins and outs of everyday life, and other topics of interest that had nothing to do with climbing up to the tallest branch in order to toss criticisms or crass jokes upon the heads of other people.

When I hear a conversation revolving around such things, I instantly detect that lack of depth. I detect fear. Fear of exposing the truth. Fear of being who they truly are...because they do not wish to be spoken of as they speak of others. Why not beat another to the punch?

You see, I find this sad.

Sad for such individuals who lack life. Who feel so small. Who never learned what it feels like to have honor, love, and respect for human life. Including their own. When one must resort to casting negative attention away from themselves, this is an indication that this individual has no clue who they truly are. They are not grounded, nor rooted in any particular way. Not established. They will fall for anything, because they stand for nothing.

I refer to these individuals as “social chameleons”

They will bend to fit whomever they are around. They will say what they think you wish to hear. They are not consistent. Whenever you find inconsistencies within anthers' personality, chances are, they are not yet stable.

I am now happy to say that I am free from the individual I had spent some time with in my past. The person who plagued my atmosphere with dark clouds, with animosity and negativity.

I do still occasionally run into this personality type. I find myself searching the person over, wondering what caused them to stop developing their own truths, love, and paths. But instead, use the truths' of others' as conversation topics...as jokes. Mock consideration and graciousness. Watch them fumble down a path that was not paved by them, but rather, paved in fear of being rejected. This path is subject to change at any given moment, depending upon present company.

These are the people who will only hinder personal growth and cause great amounts of discomfort to those around them. Their friends consist of people much like them. People who do not have their own sense of who they are. Or people who are afraid to be who they are in the presence of such a person, for fear of being mocked or made fun of.

Sadly, these personality types go through life having very few “true friends”. How can one have “true friends” when they themselves, are not “true”?

I encourage anyone reading this to embrace the humanity within. To love, to laugh, and to be who you are. The person you feel like, inside.

That little voice that is truthful to you?
Honor that voice.

The freedom that dwells inside of your soul?
Surrender to it.

That fear you feel to be who you ARE?

Destroy it.

We are given this one life. A beautiful and precious life that can be filled with excietment, laughter, love, and real happiness.

Embrace that chance. Live the life you have been given and never worry about being liked by everyone. If everyone likes you, you are doing something VERY WRONG.

***LOVE TO ALL***

Because It Always Is, And Always Has Been.

I awakened this morning at 5:47A.M. I delight in mornings. Especially before the world begins to stir and become aware of the things I observe from my balcony. This morning, the air was crisp, with a bit of nip within. And for the first time in a very long time, I welcomed it. I believe this is the first year I have ever been happy to say goodbye to summer, regardless of the many sundresses I acquired this year. You see, when I began to transfer my winter clothing to my summer clothing (better known as "Closet Swap Showdown!"), I realized just how much my tastes have changed. I disliked most of the pieces I attempted to hang. So over the summer, I revamped the wardrobe. Gave away bags and bags of clothing and repurchased things I would be comfortable wearing. Classic pieces.

I have always said, "Dress for the life you want...", and that is exactly what I have decided to do.

The life I want is quite detailed. And would likely be somewhat surprising to most, if told. As I look back at my former self, I understand. I can detect most events that prepared me for this lifestyle. The things that strengthened me. Taught me to fight while on the ground until I grew muscles I never thought were possible to have. Each event led me to the next phase in my journey. Prepared me for what was to come. 

I understand that this is all very cryptic, but learned a very long time ago to never show my hand, prematurely. I can only say that another big move is on the horizon, and this time, I'm a bit nervous, which is odd, because I was never nervous about New York. New York has never been a city that intimidated me. By day 3, I was riding the subway by myself to meet up with my friend Nick. I honestly cannot think of another city more diverse, magical, and so full of diversions. (And let us not forget REALLY good food)

This move is different. But more about that later. I still have some loose ends to tie up. 

That, and I have not finished my first cup of Nantucket Blend, yet. The brain is still a bit hazy. :-)

I can only imagine what will transpire when I unpack my winter clothing. Hopefully, I will not have to replace that seasons wardrobe. Regardless, I am going to dress for the life I will have. 

I just reread this blog, and honestly cannot find much of a point to it. :-D

Maybe I am just a little excited about the life to come. Maybe I just wanted to share. 

Or maybe, I need a nap. 

I love you, you amazingly beautiful and crazy world.