We Need Each Other

I’m starting to really appreciate the concept of community.

You see, I realized something recently — up until last year, my wife Crass and didn’t really have a community of our own. We had a few friends, even a few ride-or-dies, but no village, so to speak. And every night was the same — we’d get home from work, sit on the couch, and veg out until we inevitably got tired enough to sleep. It was a life, but it didn’t feel like living. It felt like we were just wasting time until the sweet release of death.

“I heard you were desperate for friends.”

I think things started to change for us when I met my girlfriend (we’re polyamorous, to clarify). We actually met at a Valentine’s Day event that I was hesitant to even go to because I wouldn’t know anyone there. But I met Olivia, and she had this contagious energy about her. As I found out, she loved going to things like art shows and open mics and festivals, and I found myself following her to those types of events. Suddenly, I was doing more than just working. I was living.

But karaoke was the catalyst that led to the life I know now. When we first went to Fort Wayne for my ill-fated internship, Crass suggested checking out the local gay bar the first week. Which was very uncharacteristic of her, an introvert, but I think she was feeling what I was feeling at the time. Restless.

It was at the gay bar that we met the first karaoke crew. There was Kyli, feisty and charismatic, and Theo, her calmer (albeit very silly) best friend, and their pal Zariel, a big lovable goofball who could sing “Poison” by Bell Biv DeVoe like no one’s business. They were so quick to welcome us into their world. We started going on all kinds of adventures around town, and despite the internship falling through, I don’t regret a thing because of the people I met there.

As I’ve started to say, the real music therapy degree was *the friends we made along the way.*

I’ll admit it sucked moving away from them (which was the only part that sucked about leaving Indiana, where no one should be). We’d finally found a tribe to call our own, only to lose them almost immediately. But we had to do what we had to do, and that involved moving to Kalamazoo, where the universe had been leading us for years. I started to worry if we’d find our people in this town. It was a college town after all, and we skewed a little older than college age. Were we doomed to be lonely again?

Then Crass threw out the same suggestion that seemed to work in Fort Wayne — let’s check out the local karaoke scene.

That first night, we met so many fantastic people (and one awful person), and we were hooked. From then on, every Friday, we’d gather at Old Dog Tavern downtown and sing our hearts out. There was Steve and Luke and David, the three most wholesome white cis dudes you’ll meet this side of Mister Rogers (but with a lot more marijuana). There was Mary Emma, a beautiful and confident slightly older queer woman who quickly became someone I could look up to. There was Clara, a kind statuesque blonde bartender who could quite possibly out-belt Aretha herself. There was Kim, who admittedly sucked, but they can’t all be winners I guess. The karaoke scene had so many colorful characters, and I loved getting to build relationships with all of them (except Kim, cause fuck Kim).

They say no man is an island, and it takes a village to raise a child. I’m sure those proverbs extend to women and nonbinary folk as well. I don’t often quote from the Bible on here anymore because I know spirituality can be a touchy subject, especially with our current political climate, and I don’t want to alienate any of my readers. Still, there’s a few verses from my favorite emo song — ahem, Biblical book — Ecclesiastes, that describes this phenomenon perfectly.

Two are better than one,
    because they have a good return for their labor:
If either of them falls down,
    one can help the other up.
But pity anyone who falls
    and has no one to help them up.
Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm.
    But how can one keep warm alone?
Though one may be overpowered,
    two can defend themselves.
A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.

-Ecclesiastes 4:9-12

I’ll leave y’all with this, and I promise it’ll all come together. When I married my ex-husband, it was a shotgun affair because of his faith, so I didn’t know a lot about him, like the fact that dancing is prohibited in his aforementioned faith. No one told me that until the reception. I was pissed. All I wanted since I was a kid was a fun session I could dance at with all my friends and family! I honestly should have been more of a bitch about it than I was.

I shoulda gave *Bridezillas* a run for their money.

Anyways, that marriage obviously failed, and when I remarried my current spouse, we had a small, intimate (also shotgun) ceremony that lasted all of ten minutes. So I never got my wedding dances.

As I mentioned in a different post, Olivia and I are engaged-ish. We can’t legally marry, but we can have one hell of a commitment ceremony to make up for it. And when one of my new friends found out about the disaster that was my first wedding, he offered to rally the karaoke crew together to raise funds for a ceremony for me and Olivia, one we could really dance at. It was enough to almost make me tear up. Not just the idea of finally getting to dance, but the idea of all my friends coming together to help us.

I have a community now.

Things aren’t great at the moment, and it has been weighing on me quite a bit if I’m honest. I don’t know what’s going to happen in the next few years. The Trump administration already removed the T from “LGBTQ,” which does not give me warm fuzzies about the future of us queer folks in this country. Will I be rounded up and imprisoned or worse for loving another woman? I don’t know yet, and it’s scary. But I’m not going into battle alone. I’ve got so many good people in my corner now, and I have no doubt in my mind every single one of them would fight for me if it came down to it.

Community is going to be what saves this country. More than ever, we need each other.

The App Idea That’s Going to Make Me a Rich Tech Bro (Maybe)

I was already kicking around the idea when this popped up as the daily prompt.

Come up with a crazy business idea.

Hear me out: Tinder for musicians.

Not for dating them (which, I can confirm, is always a bad idea).

Please note that I don’t know a damn thing about developing apps. But the engine seems to be there, you know? You get a person, you swipe right or left depending on if you like them, and if they like you back, you can talk to them. It’s so simple.

So what if we used that same idea for people trying to start bands?

I’m at a crossroads with all of my projects for one simple reason — they all lack a drummer. I’ve tried out several drummers for Wake Up Jamie and no one seemed to fit. My co-frontwoman’s little brother is filling in for now, but it would have been so much easier to just swipe right on a drummer and bring him into the fold that way, right?

I’ve tried luring them in with cheese and it never works.

But imagine a “dating app” for connecting musicians! You’d sign up for this theoretical app and list all of the instruments you can play, as well as your playing level. You could even post videos of yourself playing! Then, you’d scroll through until you find someone you’d want to collaborate with. Once you’ve found your guy or gal, swipe right, and if they’re also down, they’ll also swipe right, similar to Tinder or Bumble. But once you’ve made a match, you can message and coordinate a time to meet up and jam.

Honestly, a social networking site for musicians would fill the same sort of niche. Imagine a MySpace for musicians (okay, MySpace is mostly for musicians these days, but still). You’d add your friends and their bands and be able to follow what they’re doing. Sure, you can already do this with Instagram, but Meta sucks and Zuck eats kittens. Besides, this app would only be for musicians to join. Perhaps later there could be a “fans” option for joining. Honestly, I just really want to see the music scene become more connected.

So those are my crazy business ideas. I’m open to becoming an entrepreneur, but I’d definitely need someone to help with the technical aspects of things.

Because I have no idea how any of this stuff works.

On a related note, if you’re skilled at techy stuff (unlike me), let’s chat.

If Sh*t Hits the Fan, I Hope the Eggs Were Worth It

So uh, something pretty big is happening later today.

Full disclosure: I am not very happy about this turn of events. I don’t think our Orange Overlord is fit to be president, and I don’t feel safe as a queer woman in a country that voted for him. He’s um, not been great for us, generally speaking. So I won’t lie and say I’m not a little scared for my future and my loved ones. Should I be afraid? I don’t know. I’d like to think this administration will be too stupid to do any lasting damage, but considering the everything, we seem like we’re on a collision course straight to Germany circa the 1930s.

So I’ve been mentally preparing for whatever comes next. I don’t want to believe any amount of Americans would be okay with sending entire people groups to interment camps, but it wouldn’t be the first time, and judging by some of the comments I’ve seen on the internet, there definitely exist folks who’d want us imprisoned or worse.

I’ve written before about the alarming lack of empathy, and I think it’s at play here. Americans are so obsessed with themselves, I think we sometimes forget our humanity. We don’t think about how words affect people, or how our votes are going to affect people — let’s be real, we don’t think about other people at all. We don’t give a fuck about homeless vets or folks with cancer who need a goddamn GoFundMe to afford treatment to live. We happily threw the trans community and immigrants under the bus in the name of cheaper eggs, and that’s fucking heartbreaking.

I don’t think Trump is the problem, but I think he’s a symptom of a much bigger problem. We’ve proven to the nation that kindness doesn’t get you ahead — being manipulative and cunning does. How else would you explain the TikTok fiasco? He set a fire, then acted like a hero for putting it out. And people were stupid enough to fall for it. Now, he’s set himself up as “the champion of free speech” to the younger generation for defending a platform he wanted gone in the first place.

If shit really does hit the fan and we witness the death of democracy, I honestly don’t know what resistance will look like. I hope we are strong, and I hope we have enough brute force if push comes to shove and the other side chooses violence. But more importantly, I hope we keep our sense of altruism and kindness. I think that will be what get us through these dark years ahead. At the risk of sounding like a total hippie, we need more music, more art, more peace, more love.

Another Woodstock would be cool too (just maybe *not* the one they had in the 90s).

I’m disappointed in our country, but I’m hopeful things will turn around eventually. I truly do believe most people are good, if a little ignorant at times. I don’t want to believe half the nation knowingly sold us out for eggs. I don’t want to believe half the nation wants me dead for liking girls. I want to believe we’re better than that. But if shit gets dark, don’t say I didn’t tell you so.

Technology Marches On: A Musician’s Perspective on AI

This is going to be a controversial post. So hold onto your butts, dear readers.

A few nights ago, Reddit’s r/chapppellroan community was abuzz, and not in a good way. The red-haired pop songstress invited controversy when she asked her fans to create unhinged AI images of her and her cousin.

Also embracing the millennial finger mustache, which I thought we collectively decided to forget about.

The overwhelming response from her fandom was, well, scathing. A lot of fans were disappointed, to say the least.

And they have reason to be. Artificial intelligence is an ethical landmine. I’m not even talking the environmental impact — remember, training a single bot can produce as much CO2 as five cars do in their lifetime. It already has the potential to put visual artists out of work, and honestly, music isn’t far behind. There are already fully AI songs charting. Being wife to a visual artist and a musician myself, you’d think I’d be as strongly against AI technology as Chappell’s fans. And for a long time, you would have been right.

But I’m not anymore. In fact, I think it can be useful — used correctly.

A good musician friend of mine introduced me to a certain software that utilizes AI to create full, complex songs out of, well, whatever you give it. I was hesitant at first, but one night, I was sitting at work bored to death. On a whim, I decided to flesh out some long-abandoned lyrics I’d written and toyed with the software a little. And I was shocked at how well the software could bring my visions to life. It hit me that I could use this technology to break through writer’s block. After all, according to the software’s terms of service, everything you beep-boop is yours to do whatever you want with. I could flesh out entire demos using AI!

And I can repeatedly listen to my own music *like never before!*

Let me be clear — I don’t support simply releasing what the software spits out. I think it’s disingenuous to put something out into the world and claim it’s yours when all you did was punch a few buttons. But I don’t see an issue with using it to glean ideas and visualize what you actually want to create. It’s the same concept for visual artists. Use AI to generate some poses or brainstorm ideas, but at the end of the day, your art is what you create yourself with your chosen medium.

I know it’s really easy for bad actors to use AI for insidious purposes, and I can’t argue that. Sure, making cute realistic neon owl families with AI is innocent enough, but what about Joe Biden and Donald Trump swordfighting with their penises? We have the technology to make a very convincing image of that…atrocity, and publishing it to social media has the potential to damage real people. For that reason, I think there needs to be significantly more legislation surrounding AI (or people are going to develop some really wild ideas about American politics).

Like people believing this man can *actually* shred.

Still, I don’t think AI is an entirely bad thing. It’s a tool like anything else, and every time a new creative tool comes out, people will declare it the enemy of true art. Painter J. M. W. Turner once said “This is the end of Art. I am glad I have had my day.” This quote was spoken in 1839 and is referring to the daguerreotype. But we still have painters to this day. And now that the technology exists, you can’t put the genie back in the lamp. Like it or not, AI will be a huge part of our future. As the Leadership Conference on Civil and Human Rights succinctly put it:

AI has the potential to help our communities, but if [people] aren’t equipped to successfully enter the future of work, they will not reap the benefits.

In other words, now that it exists, it’s a necessary evil, and folks will have to learn how to interact with it one way or another, lest risk being left behind.

I’m not a believer in black and white thinking. I think there are way too many gray areas in our everyday life, and I think the use of AI is one such gray area. There are many ways to use it ethically, and there are just as many ways to misuse it for sinister purposes. At the end of the day, I don’t think Chappell should be cancelled for wanting to experiment with it.

Let’s be real though, is Chappell even *cancelable?*

Use it or don’t, just be excellent to each other. And for the love of God, do not generate that penis-swordfighting image.

(And if you do, please do not show me, thanks.)

Back to School Blues

Tomorrow is my first day of school. Well, back to school. I say “back to school” as if I haven’t tried and failed to do the school thing again three times since I initially graduated with my music and journalism degrees in 2015.

But I’m nothing if not persistent.

I’m trying to stay optimistic in the face of everything that is happening and will happen — financial hardship, music therapy falling through, the new administration taking over and probably borking the country, and probably a million other things I’m not actively worrying about but are still looming in the horizon. I’ve always been an optimist, maybe to a fault. I want to believe the best in everything and in everyone, but I’m learning that I’m a lot less optimistic when it comes to believing in myself. And why should I be? I’ve let myself down so many times, part of me is wondering how long this endeavor will last before I inevitably fuck it up.

That’s not to say I don’t like Jessa Joyce — I’m quite a huge fan of hers. But I feel like she’s just an image of that perfect, badass version of myself I put out there. I love who she represents to me, an ideal self in a way. Yet underneath Jessa Joyce’s glitter and confidence lives a different me, one that’s not really sure she knows what she’s doing. I wrote a song about it recently, actually:

I used to know exactly what I wanted to be

But now I really don’t know what I want anymore

Who am I supposed to be

When all my flaws catch up to me?

I was the brightest star in the whole damn sky

Right until I flew too high

When I wrote those words, I was reflecting on that version of myself, the one that stands on shaky ground as she realizes she’s at a crossroads. Do I go all-in on pursuing rock stardom and all of its trappings? Do I start a music academy? A recording studio? Both? Do I take up the art of luthiery and build guitars? Do I continue my education and become a music professor? Do I work as a sound guy for a church I’m probably too gay to attend? All of the above? None of the above? What if I can’t choose, or worse, choose the wrong thing, like I did with music therapy? I can’t afford to waste another 12 years studying something that I don’t even follow through with. Starting school again will be a good first step, but I can’t ignore the nagging feeling that I’m going to screw this up again somehow.

In short, I really don’t have it all together.

Earlier today, I was talking to my bandmates about an acquaintance of mine who just seems really excited to know me. Which is flattering, I have to admit, but I wonder how well that person really knows me. Because if he did know me, he would know I’m not anything to look up to. If anything, I’m a dumpster fire masquerading as a sexy rocker chick who knows what she wants and knows exactly how to get it. But at the end of the day, I’m still the same old dumpster fire.

Believe it or not, I’m not writing this from a state of depression. I’m actually having experiencing hypomania, the bipolar state where you feel REALLY GOOD but not so good that you drop $500 you don’t have on a boat (thanks, mania). I’ve been in a surprisingly good mood actually. It’s just I’ve done the “back to school” song and dance enough times to understandably be a bit wary. Is this really the path for me? Can I forge my own way and start a career I can be proud of? Will I be able to make enough money to support my partners and our future family? One thing’s for sure — I’m going to work my ass off to make this thing happen. If I keep grinding, eventually it’ll pay off, right? Right?

I hope so. I want to believe in me again.

New Year, New Jessa (Hopefully)

So, it’s New Years Eve.

I’m writing this from a Starbucks during the period of time between my teaching gig and my trivia hosting job tonight. But this time last year, I was expecting to be a music therapist, working my big girl job and making bank. Obviously that did not happen, and to be honest, a lot of goals I had set for myself last New Years remain unaccomplished. But I’m not sad — the failures from this past year led me to where I am now, and I actually think I like where I am now better than where I would have been had I earned my MT-BC.

Still, there’s something powerful about setting new goals for a new year. I love a good intention-setting ritual. It feels almost witchy in a way, banishing the negative energy of the past year and manifesting a bright future ahead. So let me put on my witch hat and brew up some fresh goals for 2025!

1. Release a Full-Length Album

Would you believe I have an entire album’s worth of material I’m just sitting on? If I’m honest, I probably have several albums’ worth of material I’m just sitting on. And what good is music if no one’s there to hear it? I’d love to get at least one real album out into the world this year. I’d love to actually give it some proper promotion and go all-in on making it in music, now that I’m not bothering with music therapy anymore. I’ll be learning new recording and production techniques when I start classes as well, which will come in handy as I typically record everything myself. Speaking of which…

2. Finish My Coursework With an A or B

Like I mentioned, I’m going back to school for audio engineering. I have some friends in the program, including my dear bandmate, who I’ve observed many times become absolutely panicked over a particular class project. So I’m not going to hold myself to an impossible standard. I typically shoot for straight As, as ever since I was a child (I falsely believed) my parents demanded it from me. (They actually didn’t care that much — I put the expectations on myself because of freaking course I did.) But if I get a B in my classes for this program, I’ll be content.

3. Start a New Band

I love wakeupjamie, but it’s difficult to commute back and forth to practice when practice is literally two hours away. I have Syrin now too, but our frontperson writes all the music. So I want to start a another band that’s based here in Kalamazoo and plays the songs I write. I have a few potential leads as far as players, and I want to start playing shows by the end of next year. I’m still toying with band names, so if you got any good ones, leave ‘em in the comments!

4. Get Back Down to 140

I started drinking heavily in my mid-late 20s, which led to me absolutely ballooning to over 200 pounds. I’m not one to fat shame, especially not myself, but my fat was because of what was turning into a serious health problem, and it was causing even more health problems for me. I couldn’t get up the stairs to my own apartment without getting winded. Now that I’ve stopped drinking, I’m back down to 160, but I want to get back to the weight my old personal trainer said was optimal for my particular body, which is around 140. I’ve already cut back on calories quite a bit (thanks to ADHD meds murdering my appetite), but I want to keep walking regularly and incorporate more physical activity into my routine this year.

5. Start a Side Hustle

I’ve been trying to figure out new creative ways to make a little extra money for a while, but nothing seems to stick for long. So this year, I want to find something I love that I wouldn’t mind monetizing. I need the cash more than ever now that I’m starting classes again and don’t have access to any more student loans. I’m thinking of starting streaming again, but I’ll need to figure out a set schedule for that, because ADHD. I want to experiment with new ways to get my music out there though, and streaming might be a lucrative endeavor if I promote it right.

6. Write a Story (OF ANY LENGTH)

Sometimes I forget that along with music, writing was also one of my first loves. I finally finished and published the first story arc of Venona on here, but nothing really came of it. I do want to keep dabbling in fiction, though, as I truly enjoy making up stories and telling them to anyone who will listen. Maybe I’ll write more Venona, or maybe I’ll finally let it die. All I know is I can’t keep trying to force myself to write lengthy novels when I clearly don’t have the attention span for that, so I’m going to set this goal accordingly. Any length story will do. It just needs to get published, either on here or maybe even by someone else. I’ll have to research how to do all that, but I’d love to see my writing in print again.

…and those are my objectives for this year. I intentionally set reasonable, accomplishable goals for myself, because as every self-help book I’ve ever read emphasizes that your goals need to be SMART (specific, measurable, achievable, relevant, and time-bound). So, human who is reading this, what are your goals for 2025? Feel free to drop those in the comments along with the best band names you can think of.

I’m cautiously optimistic about 2025, but optimistic nonetheless.

Serving Glimmers: How Art and Performance Can Save Lives

I had a realization a while back — one of the reasons I pursued music therapy was because it looked “good.” It seemed like a noble profession, using music to improve people’s lives in a meaningful, measurable way. I’d tell people I was studying music therapy and it was an instant “Ah yes, I can trust her, as she is clearly a good person.” All my boyfriends’ moms loved me for it, and strangers would tell me what I’m doing is so beautiful, so kind. It may just be playing guitar for some kid in a hospital, but to that kid, you’re a hero! And who doesn’t want to be a hero, you know?

I think I have a hero complex, and I think that’s what’s prevented me from jumping headfirst into performance instead. I always wanted to be a hero. I wanted to help people. And if I became a rock star, who would I be helping except my own selfish desires?

The typical perception of pretty much everybody is that performing and the arts are just little “extras.” They’re nothing but fun little distractions, right? No one needs a movie or a comic book or music to live.

QUICK! GET HIM THE LATEST TAYLOR SWIFT ALBUM!

What I’m slowly realizing is that, while we don’t need the arts to live, we absolutely need the arts to really live.

When I moved to Kalamazoo, I searched frantically for work. I would have taken damn near anything, but I wanted to try finding a job involving music. And lo and behold, a trivia company was looking for a music bingo host in my area. And I mean, getting to essentially be part-DJ, part-game show host every night?

I love what I do. It’s a great gig. But for a while, I was feeling like what I did didn’t really matter in the long run. People come into the bar, play music bingo, and leave, going on to live their own lives. I imagine there are probably nurses and firefighters in the audience, and what I do must seem so inconsequential compared to what they deal with every day. And I think those thoughts were starting to wear on me, because I got complaints from one of the bars I work at that I wasn’t “engaging enough.” At first I was angry, because what do you mean I’m not good enough?! But then I realized maybe I’m not giving it my all, and maybe that was because I felt like my job wasn’t important.

So I determined that this show would be my best show yet. I dressed just short of a full drag queen getup, picked some banger categories, and drank enough caffeine to kill a horse. I promised myself I’d socialize the whole time, even if I wanted to sit down. I even moved the chair so I wouldn’t be tempted to just sit down. I was going to give this show my all.

Then, something amazing happened. Sometimes, when you put good vibes out into the universe, the stars align and give you exactly what you need in that moment. What I needed was a glimmer.

Everyone knows what triggers are, but I recently saw that someone coined a term for the opposite phenomenon — glimmers. These are the tiny moments that make life worth living. I experience a glimmer every time I laugh with my wife, or hug my girlfriend, or hear my parents say they’re proud of me. They’re what being alive is all about. They’re little moments of pure joy, which was exactly what I needed.

I walked into the bar to an array of balloons. It was an older couple’s 55th anniversary, and I was going to be hosting music bingo smack dab in the middle of it. Thankfully, the couple was cool about me coming to blast disco at them and even joined in the game, along with many of the other folks in attendance. The older woman who was celebrating her anniversary came up to me and told me that her and her husband’s song was “You’re Still the One” by Shania Twain. And anyone who knows me knows I never miss an opportunity to play Shania Twain.

Tangentially related fact: I was so obsessed with her as a small child, I’d draw pictures of her and not my mom. (Yes, my mom was a little jealous.)

When intermission came, the bar dimmed the lights, leaving only the hanging Christmas lights to illuminate the room. I cued up the song and introduced the couple to the entire bar. Then, everyone gathered around the couple with their phone flashlights. Seeing all of their friends and family surround them in a sea of twinkling lights actually made me tear up a little. The family would remember this moment for the rest of their lives.

A moment I helped make happen.

It’s easy to dismiss entertainment as an opium of the masses, even more so than religion, as Marx famously said. But I’d argue that entertainment is as important as the STEM fields, just in a completely different way. Sure, a particular song may be insignificant to you, but that song could have been the one thing that stopped someone from taking their own life. There’s a reason for this album’s existence. I know people who stay alive because they want to see what happens next in their favorite video game franchise. The arts and media provide those small glimmers that keep people going.

So maybe I will go all-in on being an entertainer and creator. Because someone somewhere needs my music. Someone somewhere needs a fun game night at the local bar. Someone somewhere is reading my writings about mental health and my own personal journey and feels less alone because of it. Artists, writers, musicians, video game developers, game show hosts — they’re all heroes in a unique but important way. Entertainment and art communicate ideas, and more than that, hope.

That’s why I do what I do.

Reflecting on the Year That Almost Broke Me

As of writing, we are halfway through December, which means the new year is lurking. As everyone prepares to sing “Auld Lang Syne” and kiss a stranger, now is the optimal time to look back at the previous year and reflect on how things went.

And damn, did they go awry this year.

2024 was a trash-fire year for me, rivalling 2015 for the title of Worst Year of Jessa’s Life. 2015, of course, was the year I simultaneously got my heart broken by my crush of four years, graduated and realized I wasn’t going to find a job in my field and would probably never find success, and also dealt with some familial and health issues. But this year was honestly worse in every way. Like, this has literally been the worst one.

To think of how optimistic I was at the start of the year too. I was getting ready to begin the internship I’d been working toward for over a decade. I had just moved to Fort Wayne and was expecting an adventure. And what I got was a soul-crushing internship experience that I had to leave for the sake of my own mental health. I was going to drive my car into the fucking river if I cried one more time at that godforsaken clinic. I couldn’t handle the pressure. I failed.

Tail between our legs, we retreated to Niles, MI, where I could at least be close to my girlfriend. But we had trouble finding paid work in the area, our savings were dwindling, and we couldn’t afford to keep living out of AirBNBs. So my wife decided we should check out Kalamazoo instead, as we’d previously talked about it and decided it was a good central location between our family in Detroit, our new friends in Fort Wayne, and my girlfriend in South Bend.

Moving to Kalamazoo was the best decision we could have made, as the only good things to happen this year happened because of the move. My wife and I got involved in the local karaoke scene and made a lot of friends, which is new for us. We’d been shut-ins for most of our marriage. I decided that since music therapy was off the table, I’d pursue a different dream, one of becoming a producer and audio engineer. So I applied to the local university and actually made it into the competitive multimedia arts technology program. And I got back into doing what I love for a living — teaching music.

I realize I started this blog post very doom-and-gloom, but the more I write, the more I realize this year wasn’t so heck. Sure, we’re still broke and I still wasted so much time and money on a career that will never happen. Then there’s all the political unrest and the fact that the jabronis who won the election want to make my marriage illegal. But if there’s anything I’ve learned this year about myself, it’s that I’m resilient as fuck. When shit hits the fan, I’ll figure something else out. That’s what I do best.

Looking back at 2024, I don’t know how I could have survived without the people I’ve met this year in Fort Wayne and Kalamazoo. I never realized how empty my life was without my own little “tribe” of sorts. We’re social creatures by nature and we need each other. Maybe I’ll never be a music therapist. Maybe I’ll be broke for the rest of my life. But when I’m surrounded by the amazing folks I’ve met this year, well, you can’t buy that feeling. My Little Pony had it right — friendship is magic.

The real music therapy degree was the friends we made along the way.

I don’t know what awaits me in 2025, but I’m confident I can face anything now. This year absolutely took the wind out of my sails, but I’m going to keep persisting. I’m ready.

How I Invented Myself (As a Thirteen-Year-Old Girl With a Sketchbook)

First of all, this blog post needs a visual:

This post isn’t just an excuse to share a picture of me looking like an absolute baddie. You see, I made this very weird, very cool realization when I scrolled through recent pics to find this particular one.

That woman in the picture? I invented her.

When I was a kid, I had a lot of original characters. They were kind of my only friends when I didn’t have any to speak of. It’s easy to forget that I was ever uncool, but I very much was for most of my early life. I’ve talked about how I had to eat lunch in the library to avoid being pelted with ranch dressing packets, but that was really the tip of the iceberg. It got a lot worse than that at times. I scarcely remember a day in middle school where I didn’t come home from school crying. So I made up these imaginary people, usually rock stars, who’d be my friends, and on occasion, I’d make one whom I wanted to be.

That was Anne…I can’t remember her last name. It was Greek. She was Greek, as I had a brief Greek mythology phase (every teenage girl has one, I swear) and I’m pretty sure I made her to be the modern incarnation of Aphrodite. But I distinctly remember almost everything else about her. She had long dark hair, wore sort of gothy clothes, including fishnet stockings and gloves, and impossibly high black boots. She was the lead singer and guitarist of a rock band called Valentÿne (the umlaut is v important), and she had a teenaged little sister named Sophie of whom she’d become caregiver. She was an amalgamation of women I looked up to at the time — the Wilson sisters of Heart, other rocker chicks I admired, my own older sister, even. She was very much a wish-fulfillment OC, as I wanted nothing more to be a bad bitch with a soft side who wore cool-ass clothes and had confidence.

And I think I’m finally there. I’m not a rock star by any means, but I have people who follow my music career and love what I do, and that’s enough. I’ve got the looks now — dyeing my hair dark for my 30s was a good move. And in a way, I do feel like I’m the caregiver of a smaller, more innocent me. Sophie was always sort of my “inner child” in a way. I’ve become this character I invented as a little girl, and it’s so cool to see realized.

I keep drawing the Queen of Wands when I ask my tarot decks questions about myself, and I think that’s telling. I’m not superstitious, but I’m a little “-stitious,” so to speak, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence I keep getting this card.

The Queen of Wands represents a fiery, sexy, confident, vivacious woman who knows what she wants and knows how to get it. She is everything I created Anne to be, and I feel like I’m finally seeing those things in myself too.

It took me long enough, but I’m happy with who I am today. In fact, I think that might be a small reason why I’ve had trouble coming up with characters and stories as of late — I’m actually content with who I am and who’s in my life. That’s never happened to me before. It makes me want to hide inside my imagination less. Which is honestly not a good thing for a creative, so I should probably address that sooner rather than later. But in the meantime, I’ll enjoy this contentment.

It’s hard to believe I manifested this version of myself as a lonely 13-year-old girl with a sketchpad and big dreams, but stranger things have happened, ya know? I remember a time when I hated being me, so I feel like I’ve earned this feeling. I hope I continue to evolve into even greater versions of myself as I continue through life, and I’m excited to share that journey with you here.

Empathy is Dead

So uh, about that election.

As you could probably infer by the fact that I am a queer woman, I am not thrilled with the results. I feel betrayed by everyone who voted for the Orange Menace, and even more betrayed by the leftists who “protest voted” against Kamala for her stance on Israel. As if Trump isn’t going to level Palestine the first chance he gets. Now, we’re stuck with the consequences. The Supreme Court will be stacked with conservative judges for decades to come, and if Roe v. Wade being overturned is any indication, they’re coming for gay marriage next. It was cool having a wife while it lasted, I guess. Not to mention the fact that I’m probably only going to be able to conceive with my girlfriend, who is trans and saved some of her baby-making material, via IVF. If these clowns come for reproductive rights, I’ll probably never get to be a mom. Which is fucking heartbreaking and I might never get over it.

Those are not the things that scare me most about this election cycle. I think there’s something far more sinister going on.

We have an empathy problem.

I wrote a while back about how humanity is dead, and empathy is close behind. I’ve lost so much faith in humanity beings these past few days. People really don’t care about others. I see so much pain and heartache amongst those who will be most affected by the new regime, and these fucking insensitive maggots are gloating in their faces over it. It’s sick. Literally, I posted about my frustration with the results and the overwhelming response I received on social media was “suck it up, homo.”

And charming replies like this one from the aptly named johnpoophead.

I don’t think we’ll ever be okay again. I’ve lost so much hope. And people left and right are trying to gaslight me into thinking things will be fine, that Trump is the “most pro-LGBTQ president ever” and none of the terrible things I fear happening will come to fruition. I hope they’re right, for my sake. I’d rather hear “I told you so” than “get in the gas chambers.”

The results of this election have proven to society that bullying pays, that people who do things like, well, everything listed here, are acceptable leaders. And if Trump were to drop dead of natural causes tomorrow, none of this would disappear. The hate and ignorance are too strong now. I’ve even heard reports from folks in other countries saying their politics are turning far-right as well. Even if I could flee the country, where could I go? Nowhere is safe anymore.

My heart hurts. I didn’t want to believe people could be this terrible, but here we are. I’ll never trust anyone again, not when there’s a chance they could have voted against my right to have a family of my own. I want to believe humanity is good and that most folks are decent, but then…

It’s going to be a long four years.