Music has always, always been the most massive part of me. The biggest portion of myself besides my skin.

Music, in middle school, provided me with an insight towards, what I didn’t know at the time, was going to be my deepest passion.

Music, in high school, protected me from the monster that was my father. The after school practices that spared me for an additional six hours per week. It connected me with others who juggled an abusive home life and,what was painted to be, a “normal” school life.

Attached to music, were the wheels to travel with,

The friends to share a vibration with,

A home as far away from home as I could have dreamt.

In my adult life, music is a road I take when I am battling with myself, internally.

It peels off the face I put on for the public, and leaves me bare, and vulnerable.

But, I have company these days when I create.

Alcohol.

Making music is a process:

1. Find a notebook with enough space to make as many mistakes as I can without stopping.

2. Find a pen unwilling to quit no matter the pressure I applied or the longevity of my session.

3. Scroll through “INSTRA” playlist on YouTube for a sound that best suits my current state.

4. Have two glasses of wine.

It wasn’t something that I used as a crutch until I became of age.

But, it certainty has made its place within my music making.

I drink to uncover what I hide,

So I can relive the pain and put it on paper to share with you,

So that I can hurt with reason, and without explanation.

I know it isn’t the healthiest vice,

But, everyone’s favorite songs of mine are of me, when I am

Far From Sober.

A “Have a good day! I love you!” text during a busy day,

A big, long, warm hug from a person with a big heart and smile,

A soft kiss from a lover,

A hand held out to help without being asked,

Asking about your mental health,

Asking if you have eaten today,

Telling you to buckle up when we are in a car,

Holding hands without talking,

Two hands on the face,

A kiss on the forehead,

A homemade meal,

A blanket being placed over you while you sleep,

Your favorite show playing without your request,

The tender moments between you and your dog,

The sweet moments between you and your child,

The heart-warming moments between you and your family,

The touching moments between you and your significant other.

Love is knowing and respecting yourself and your boundaries,

Knowing your worth and your gift,

Wanting to give, and needing to help.

Love is what we all, deep down, hope we have so genuinely.

Love is what we all wish we could do.

Love is hard for people who have never experienced it.

But, it is never too late to learn how to love.

I can feel in my bones,

That you feel how I do.

That you’re waiting on me,

On my every move.

But I was waiting for you

Acted like you don’t know

And your words made me cry

Tears that I never showed

You hurt me and hurt me

Then hurt me again

What’s hurts most of all

Is at first, we were friends

And I thought that you loved me,

But I guess just a dream.

Still my real life’s worth living

As I build self esteem

Tonight I cut ties

Because you couldn’t do it.

My worths more than lies,

So I had to prove it.

And I don’t want you hurt,

But you’ll feel some regret

Cus I’m the best that there is,

I know you won’t forget.

Aquarius,

I miss you.

But, we have not even met.

Do you think of me?

Okay here we go.

Three minutes.

Might not be much to some, but definitely plenty for me.

I want to talk about this quarantine and how I feel it’s help me to grow, internally.

For a long time, I had wondered what life would be like if I was finally given the time to focus on music. After leaving my career behind in high school, I felt a sense of .. being lost, or no longer having something I once I had. I figured out what it was.

My creativity.

Since I’ve been forced home, I’ve only had the time to think, create, and do.

I’ve been able to really dig into my own brain and find the little different bits of me that make me whole.

In doing so, I was able to create music within a different genre.

Let’s just say I I love it and I wish I

The motto is,

“For better or worse, it’s family first. For worse or for better, we’re family forever.”

This was something I came up with myself once our family expanded.

Alannah, the babygirl, was witnessing the growth of her oldest siblings.

Lauren was pursuing her dreams as a flight attendant.

Brittany moved in with her boyfriend after being offered a job.

And I decided to pursue my passion for the music and cannabis industries by relocating to Los Angeles.

Having been the last child for a year or two, Alannah has always had her way even without asking. Our family was developing healthy communication habits and she was to thank for the incentive. We took her places, treated her to many things, and loved her with all our hearts.

After seeing us leave home, she grew disappointed in that she felt she no longer had us with her. Despite our biweekly trips home, she was still unfulfilled.

A few years ago on her birthday she has expressed to me that she couldn’t be happy knowing that we would all be leaving after we had celebrated.

I pulled her to the side and gave her the hug we both needed. I told her that no matter what, that she would always have me.

That she was my babygirl and that nothing would change that.

Since the motto was so easy to remember, she can remind herself that she isn’t alone, even when she feels like it.

Now that she’s older, she’s handy with FaceTime and has obtained the finesse needed to get us to travel more often.

We love her so much. And I’m glad I could come up with that on the spot.

Without saying, “I love you”, first.

Because I didn’t get to last time.

You left so quick, and we we’re too busy being petty that the thought didn’t even cross our minds.

It’s because of that experience, that I ALWAYS express my love.

I hope it’s not too late for you to hear me say it.

I’ll see you again someday.

The list goes on,

And on,

And on.

We know what they are.

We know which ones belong to those we love.

We know what it does to a person.

We have seen in the eyes of animals.

We have seen it influence the growth of children.

We watch it whip an entire country into shape.

We listen as they become passed down from the generation before.

We allow the media to intensify our fears.

We allow our fears to overcome us, internally.

We, sometimes, become capable of facing them.

We can handle a particular level of pressure, especially when we are aware that the fear is common.

Fear can run a lonely person into the arms of an abusive partner.

Fear can back any animal into a corner.

Fear strips a child of their confidence to speak, especially when they need help.

Fear can deteriorate the idea of living a normal life.

There also lies the notion that a life sprinkled with fear is “normal”, since everyone is afraid of something.

Including myself.

But, the fact that we have the opportunity to strengthen our minds in an effort to spiritually find ease in multiple avenues of life, is denied by many.

This fact is denied by those who’s fear provides them with an unseeable sense of stability and self.

It is never too late, however, to chose to flip the neurological switch from fear to, what I like to call, fire.

I don’t believe all fear is bad.

In fact, it is a fear that drives me forward in my quest for financial abundance:

The fear of being unable to provide my Mom with the home of her dreams.

See, this fear is not as manipulating as others.

It’s this “fire” that drives me everyday once my eyes open, to continue the road to lasting success.

My truest fear is becoming diagnosed with an incurable disease, leaving me to live out the rest of my days as handicap, under the care and supervision of humans who would eventually come to resent my existence.

This fear could easily take over my character.

I could be the person who wears gloves to any and every occasion.

I could be the person who never leaves the house, because of the uncertainty of sickness.

I could even be the person who NEVER shakes hands with the people they meet, or refuse to aid a struggling child or animal due to risk of ill exposure.

Or, I can be who I am.

I can leave home to soak in the heat of the sun. I can hold a baby close, and pet a puppy.

I’ve been told I give some of the best hugs and handshakes, in which I take pride.

The genuinely affectionate person I am would disappear if I dared to move through life supposedly untouched.

For now, a travel sized hand sanitizer will subside the environmental triggers in my day-to-day.

It’s in this way that this fear does not control me. I control it.

This year, I have a “friend”.

We share and do things some friends don’t do, but I am okay with not having relationship responsibilities.

Despite our lack of care for a label, I ordered him two sets of earrings. He has been wearing the same pair for MONTHS.

A pair of silver clasps with a dangling cross.

They suit him extremely well, but as a friend I felt he could use a bit of variety.

So in comes a shipment from USPS around noon. We’re sitting in my room when I receive the notification, and decide, out of excitement, I should run down to grab them.

On my way up I hear him on the phone, and take the chance to situate the gift outside of its packaging. I walk in and place them in his hands.

“These are cool, right? You like these?”

Hesitantly, and without opening to reveal the jewelry, he replies, “Yea, I like ’em. Those are really cool.”

I go, “Well, good, because I got them for you.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

Oh, thank you?

Listen, I am not in search of acceptance or gratitude. But, this gift was to show that during our short time as “friends” I have been paying mind. The little details mattered to me from the beginning.

It’s safe to say I am..

Bothered?

But! I am only remembering that tomorrow will be a day for me to love myself, and my family.

After all, he is just my “friend”, right?

Happy Valentines Day.

No one can tell me what to do when I write.

It’s all coming from my head.

All of my thoughts are my own, and I have been blessed with the will power to either share, react on, or harness them.

My thoughts, my rules.

As a child, I faced many obstacles.

Even through adolescence, I found myself in situations in which I had no control.

Throughout adulthood, I’m finding that perhaps all those years spend practicing thought, that writing could be the perfect way to express myself while relieving some of the angst.

Poetry was my first medium.

I excelled in high school, earning me a small section in the Palm Springs High School Newspaper. After graduating, my 8 year relationship with orchestral instruments was coming to a close. I had given back the horns that belonged to the school, which sent me into a minor depression.

It was soon after the ceremony I realized my love for music could continue had I switched my instrument.

It’s me.

I can write.

Truthfully, it’s writing the music that makes the ability to do so, so humbling.

Thank you for asking.