You’re writing your autobiography. What’s your opening sentence?
“She was born in the middle of a snowstorm on her mother’s birthday…”
Okay, maybe I won’t be pretentious and write it in third person, but I’ve very much toyed with the idea of writing an autobiography of sorts. I always said I’d wait until I was actually important to write one, but honestly, who’s the judge of importance? Lots of ordinary folks have put their life down into words.
It seems fitting to get this prompt on the eve of my birthday. I’ve been thinking a lot about how I want to preserve my story as I get older. I know I don’t want to be easily forgotten, that’s for sure. My biggest fear stems from one of the best animated films of all time in my opinion, Coco. At one point, a man literally dissolves into nothing after the last person on earth who remembers him dies. I don’t want to fade quietly into obscurity, with my story and my creations and my entire existence irretrievably forgotten.
Nothing like a whimsical cartoon fantasy to launch you into an existential crisis.
That’s why I write this blog. In a way, it is my autobiography. There’s stuff on here I’m very proud of. There’s stuff on here I’m not as proud of, but it’s part of my experience nonetheless. It’s different from my social media accounts where everything is sort of curated for the particular medium I’m posting on. In this blog, though, I can be completely myself. I’m not beholden to any standards or expectations. This is my little corner of the internet to do whatever I please with.
And so I write. I write about all of the things I love. I write about all of the things I’m passionate about. And most importantly, I write down my life story. Because when I make it to the end of the road, I don’t want it to be for naught. I want my life to have meaning.
I’ve been considering my own mortality quite a bit lately. I’m becoming acutely aware of the fact that I’m slowly catapulting toward death, maybe quickly if things in the world keep progressing (or rather, regressing) the way they are. I don’t want to be a doomer and assume it’s going to get that far, but if it does, we need to preserve our stories. Anne Frank humanized an entire people group through her writing, even if she ultimately perished. Her writing lives on. She lives on.
I’ve been enjoying these prompts, as it gives me more ideas of neat things to share with you guys. Writing this blog has been one of my favorite ways to connect with people, and one of my favorite ways of connecting with people is sharing stuff I like. Usually, when I say “stuff I like,” I mean like, Bon Jovi and shit, but what about the actual stuff I own? What objects can I not live without?
Glad you asked, unnamed reader! Here’s a list of three things I absolutely require to function (well, aside from food and water and the obvious):
1. My Guitar
Is this too obvious? I picked up a guitar for the first time as an awkward 10-year-old who desperately wanted to be Richie Sambora, and I never looked back. Over the years, I’ve accumulated many instruments, which means this answer is kind of a cop-out since “my guitar” could describe like, ten different items. I’ve got my cherry red Epiphone Les Paul and my sunburst American-made Fender Strat. I’ve also got my Baby Taylor, a scaled-down acoustic I got for myself due to the portability. There’s also one with my name on it that’s shaped like a J that a family friend custom made for me (I don’t know how well it works — I think it was unfinished — but it’s mostly for show anyways). Then there’s my Franken-Dean — a guitar with a neon green neck slapped on a hot pink body, complete with a spider decal.
But nothing compares to my Epiphone acoustic. That is probably the real answer to this question — if I had to choose one, that one would be it. It’s not the best sound-wise, nor is it especially flashy-looking, but it belonged to my grandfather, a bluegrass player, and was then passed to my late uncle, then me. The guitar is so old it was literally made in the very city I live in, Kalamazoo, before the company moved its operations overseas years ago. I’ve been considering getting it fixed up so if shit hits the fan and we need to skidaddle from like, the whole ass country, I can smuggle this guitar and have it be functional. As much as I love my Baby Taylor, the Epi is my pride and joy for sentimental reasons. Should I have a kid someday, I’ll pass it along to her too.
2. My Phone
Again, I feel like this is fairly obvious, and also something most people would pick. It is the 21st century — your whole life is on that thing. But I’m not much of a talker or texter, even though I do use it to keep in touch with my friends and family. There’s a lot of other stuff I use my phone for everyday that a lot of folks probably don’t realize. I use my phone for writing primarily, as it’s easy to transport, unlike a bulky computer or notebook. The word processors work almost identically to computer word processors, but I can write from anywhere whenever inspiration strikes. I’m writing this very blog post on my phone! I’m a bit of a compulsive reader so I also use it for reading, since it’s easier than lugging books with me everywhere. Had the internet not been invented, I’d probably have a bag full of books at all times!
The fact that I keep my phone with me at all times is why I opted to put it in a wallet case with a lanyard. I know myself and I know I’d lose my head if it wasn’t attached to my body, but if my wallet is literally an object that is always in my hands, I know it’s safe. I also use my phone as a planner for the same reason. I highly recommend the app Zinnia for my fellow ADHDers, as it’s very customizable and colorful! I’ve made a ritual of updating it every Sunday night, and I swear it’s the only reason I’m ever punctual at all.
3. My Piano
Of course there’s another musical entry. What do y’all expect from me? My piano (or rather, electronic keyboard) was a gift from a former producer of mine who no longer needed it. I’d wanted one primarily for the sake of practicing the songs I’d have to learn on keys for music therapy, but honestly, even though that didn’t work out, I’m happy I ended up with this instrument anyways. I remember being heartbroken that my paternal grandmother’s piano went to another family member. I always wanted to play piano, almost as much as I wanted to play guitar, but I never had the opportunity to learn as a child. I guess having this keyboard now makes up for it a little.
Piano is important to me in particular because it’s the instrument I mostly use for songwriting purposes. I’m so familiar with the guitar and have so much training on it that I don’t feel like I can be fun and experimental as much on it. I’m too worried about playing correctly. But with keys, I don’t know as much about proper technique because my only lessons were a few classes in college, so I’m not as afraid to make mistakes and play around. I don’t hold myself to a super high standard, which means I can get my ideas out there in a more raw and real way. Sometimes I’ll just write out some lyrics and sit at the piano bench and try out different melodies with the chords. I love guitar, but I feel like I almost have more fun playing piano.
So that concludes my top three objects I absolutely, positively need. What are your top three? Drop them in the comments section!
When I opened my app to check my site’s stats for the day, this little prompt popped up:
Describe the most ambitious DIY project you’ve ever taken on.
I’ll be honest, this is a hard question for me, and not because I’m like, the queen of all things DIY. I’m not even a baroness of all things DIY. The world of DIY is a mystical land with which I am simultaneously very familiar and also very much a stranger.
Welcome!
The truth is, I often cycle through creative interests, sometimes very rapidly! I can recall flipping through like, five different artistic outlets in one summer before finally realizing I sucked at all of them. I have music and writing already — maybe it’s what I get for being greedy with the fine arts. But one of my best friends is also a musician and writer, and they also have time to make bead art, crochet, sew shit, put together enormous puzzles, and 3D print whatever the hell they can’t make doing everything else.
Allow me to print you a fucking vase.
My problem, as always, is my brain wiring. I’ve got the fun combination of ADHD and autism, and they love to fight sometimes.
If this infographic isn’t me…
One of autism’s defining traits is the presence of “special interests,” or things were just really fascinated by and want to learn everything about. As a child, it was 8-track tapes and parakeets. In adulthood, it’s been lost architecture and cults (I dare you to let me tell you about multilevel marketing cults for hour). Not every autistic person gets special interests like this, but it’s incredibly common and definitely marked my experience growing up autistic.
That’s just one of the ingredients in my particular brand of brain soup.
It’s actually alphabet soup but all of the letters are “ADHD.”
ADHD comes with impulsivity. It’s one of the main symptoms, in fact. I technically have inattentive type ADHD according to my psychiatrist, but I’m shocked I didn’t qualify for the hyperactive-impulsive type instead. The hallmarks of my ADHD have always been the impulsive and hyperactive behaviors. And when I get an impulse to try out a new hobby, I gotta dive right in, headfirst, without checking the depth of the water beforehand.
And this is the pool.
It was pretty detrimental for a while because I was blowing all my money on these hobbies I’d be into for only a week or so before giving up. There’s the thing — if I wasn’t immediately good at the hobby, I quit. I also didn’t have the patience to get good at anything.
I realize I haven’t actually answered the prompt at hand yet (which is another very ADHD thing of me to do), so allow me to list the top five lofty DIY projects my neurodivergent ass stupidly took on:
5. Boating
I’m not quite sure this counts as a DIY project because I didn’t really make anything, but it was lofty nonetheless. Do you know what all you need to safely operate a boat? A lot of shit, that’s what. Yet I ordered a whistle and high-powered flashlight and lifejackets, all for the little inflatable boat I bought while we were living on the lake. How many times did I actually use the boat? Exactly once. It was a magical time, don’t get me wrong, and I wrote a song about the experience, but that song basically costed me $600. (And this is why I have credit card debt.)
4. Perfumery
I don’t know how many of you remember my witchy phase, but I definitely dabbled in the mystical realm for a while. Still do, to a lesser extent, but at the height, I was really into making my own “potions” out of herbs and essential oils. This inevitably led to me making potions not for magical properties, but because they smelled really nice, and giving them to my friends and family. I also made a lot of spell jars around this time, containing stuff that reminded me of the folks I made them for. It was kind of a cool hobby actually. I still have a lot of spell jars from that era.
3. Sewing
This was the shortest-lived of all the hobbies listed here. I went to JoAnn’s (RIP) for a small sewing kit because I wanted to alter my Chappell Roan costume to make it a little sluttier. Like, I wanted to show kneecaps. And the nice very gay man helping me suggested I also try a pillowcase. Not wanting to disappoint a fellow gay, I happily bought material to sew my own pillowcase as well. When I got home, I immediately got too overwhelmed and threw the sewing stuff behind the TV to hide my shame. It remains there to this day, and the Chappell costume remains unslutty.
2. Painting
Of all these hobbies, this one has been the most successful, if only because I’m not a stranger to visual art. I do digital art and coloring pretty regularly with my iPad, but traditional painting is a whole different beast. My college guitar professor was an incredibly skilled oil painter and I always really admired him, so I figured I’d try my hand at it as well. And I got some pretty okay results!
This painting of my girlfriend’s girlfriend turned out better than I anticipated, although she didn’t want to keep it (to be fair, what would you do with a painting of yourself??). I think I’d feel better about this hobby if I had some success selling my art, because for now it’s just kind of languishing in my apartment. I still have the equipment for oil painting, so I could easily revisit this one if I wanted.
1. Crocheting
Ah yes, the most tragic one. The one I had such high hopes for. I always imagined myself knowing how to crochet someday, probably as a little old lady sitting on a porch swing with a glass of sun tea. It was just part of how I envisioned being a grandma, and now that I’m officially an age where I can be a grandma (like, I just saw a report about a 32-year-old grandmother), learning to crochet seemed like the next logical step. So I ordered a beginner’s kit from the Woobles and well, here is the expectation:
…and result:
You can almost hear it crying to be put out of its misery. This cat potato was eventually given to my girlfriend as a Valentine’s Day gift, and I think her car ate it. My one and only crochet attempt, lost forever.
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.
List three jobs you’d consider pursuing if money didn’t matter.
It’s funny that this prompt came up right now, because I’ve been doing a lot of soul-searching regarding my career. After all, music therapy didn’t exactly pan out for me, and the more I learn about the field, the more I’m kinda glad it didn’t work out. Apparently burnout is rampant and no other professionals take it seriously, from what I’ve gleaned from r/musictherapy on Reddit. But for most of my life, if you asked me what I wanted to be, the answer would have been a resounding “music therapist.” It was my entire personality. It was my destiny, or so I believed.
Now, I’m scrambling trying to figure out a Plan B. I didn’t have a backup plan. In my desperate attempt to grasp for alternative career paths, I tried to think of what drew me to music therapy in the first place. Was it helping people? I mean, I’ve worked pretty extensively as a caregiver, and while it feels good to do good, I still didn’t feel completely fulfilled in those jobs. Maybe it was the respect. I could see myself as a celebrated professor or researcher in the field. But in all honesty, music therapists don’t really get a lot of respect at any level (also according to r/musictherapy). That left just one potential reason — I need to make music.
Music is my entire life. I don’t know who I’d be without it. It was my first language. And all I truly want out of a career (and life in general) is to create it. And so I began to brainstorm other careers I could pursue that would allow me to play music, or at least be in close proximity to it. These are the ideas I’m currently batting around.
1. Luthier
l’ll admit this one’s farfetched. I’m not a crafty person or a handy person, so making a thing from scratch is a very intimidating prospect. Still, the idea of building and fixing guitars is attractive to me. It’s a very male-dominated field, so being a female (well, femme-by) luthier would make me cool and unique, right? There’s a luthier school an hour and a half away from where I live now, but that would be a ridiculous commute, so I’d have to either live in the dorms or get an apartment out there. My poor wife has been through enough with the Fort Wayne saga, though, and the tuition makes it prohibitively expensive.
2. Music Producer
This is probably the thing I want to do most, if I’m honest with myself. This is a purely creative job. I’d simply be tasked with making music and helping other people make music. I’ve already been doing some producing, although I’m by no means an expert. The local university has a multimedia arts technology degree that seems promising, should I want to hone the craft. One of my friends has a buddy who went that route and ended up touring with Avenged Sevenfold as their sound guy. That being said, that program also costs money I don’t have, not to mention getting the space and equipment I’d need to open my own recording studio. And then I’d need clients, which means I’d have to advertise, which means I need more money. And if I don’t get clients at all, I’m screwed.
3. Professor
When I was pursuing music therapy, my ultimate goal was to become a professor and researcher. After all, I thrive in academia, and I’ve always enjoyed teaching. If I go this route, I’d likely enter the graduate composition program at the local university, and eventually earn a doctorate. I love the idea of being Dr. Salisbury. I want the respect, the stability of being tenured, the freedom to study cool shit and make money doing it. But alas, this program also requires money.
I guess if money didn’t matter, I’d pursue all three of these at different points in my life, maybe go the producer route first and subsequently start my academic career, then learn the craft of building guitars as a retiree. I still (hopefully) have many years ahead of me. But realistically, I’m going to choose one to focus on, due to financial constraints. Unfortunately money does matter.
Maybe I’ll start a GoFundMe.
What do you think I should be? Leave your ideas in the comments!
I remember the shock when I got the results back for my 23 and Me test (that I drunkenly ordered back when I did drink).
So I’m pretty British. I was expecting that much, considering my government surname is Salisbury and I don’t think there exists a more British last name. (Except maybe like, Buckingham, or Worcestershire. Is that someone’s last name?) But I wasn’t expecting the sheer amount of Britishness I ended up being. Hardly anyone I know has gotten more than 90 percent of a particular ethnicity, and here I am more British than the late queen herself (probably).
Pip pip cheerio, or whatever.
Was I a little disappointed at first? Maybe. It felt like the most basic ethnic background I could have possibly gotten. We don’t speak a fun language that isn’t English, we’re so white the sun tries to kill us anytime we walk outside, and all we’re really known for is tea and trying to take over the world (and fucking things up for like, a bunch of other people in the process). And like, soccer and shit, but I never cared for sports. Why do I wanna watch a bunch of people I’ll never meet play a game? Wouldn’t you rather play the game yourself? I mean, I wouldn’t want to play personally, but that’s only because I suck at anything that involves silly concepts like “teams” and “balls.”
Pictured: Jessa’s kryptonite
My point is, I didn’t think there was a whole lot to be proud of. Why couldn’t I have been born, well, anything else?
There had to be something cool about being British. It couldn’t all be earl grey and imperialism.
And then it hit me.
The thing I’m most passionate about.
Music!
What aspects of your cultural heritage are you most proud of or interested in?
It’s well-known that Black Americans invented rock and roll, but the British…well, I can’t say they perfected it, since, well, Black Americans also perfected it. But we Brits had a hand in codifying it into the behemoth of a genre it is today. The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, The Who, Pink Floyd, Queen, Led Zeppelin, Deep Purple, Black Sabbath, Fleetwood Mac (well, partially at least)— it’s probably easier to list legendary rock bands that aren’t British.
So how did Britain become such a hotbed for rock music?
Thankfully, your favorite armchair ethnomusicologist is here to break it all down.
As this very well-written article explains, after World War II, Britain was pretty beat up and down bad. But in the 1950s, American rock music infiltrated the tiny country and re-energized a whole generation of folks. As the writer puts it, “…rock ’n’ roll arrived like a form of deliverance, an alien transmission that electrified British youth, literally driving them wild.” The Brits didn’t have any connection to the blues and folk that initially influenced the budding genre, so up-and-coming musicians had to rely on the records they were consuming to learn the ways of rock. At first, artists tried to mask their Britishness to fit in better with the American musicians they were learning from, but eventually, these artists began incorporating their own culture into their music. For example, it was uniquely British repression and rage that fed into subgenres like punk.
I found it strangely comforting to research British influence on rock music. Reading this stuff makes me feel like I’m part of something bigger than myself, that I actually do have a heritage I can be proud of. Although I’m only a second-generation British-American and have never visited the isles myself, I feel a connection to my ancestry through rock’s storied history. It’s kind of cool that music is what ties me to the land my family originated from, since music has been my entire life.
So, it’s actually kind of cool to be 93 percent British after all. (But like, I could live without the sun trying to kill me.)
Here’s the short answer: so I don’t lose my freakin’ mind.
The long answer is a bit more complicated.
I started this blog back in 2018 (I think). At the time, I was married to someone I wasn’t truly in love with and stuck in a conservative church that increasingly came to represent everything I didn’t want to stand for. I was still fresh out of college with a journalism degree I knew I was never going to use, but I still had the itch to write something. Anything. So my blog, which at the time was titled “I’m sorry I mean it,” simply became me screaming my displeasure with my current life into the void. “I’m sorry I mean it” was a double meaning — “I’m sorry and I mean it,” and “I’m sorry, but I mean what I’m saying.”
Writing has always been a catharsis for me, though, dating back to elementary school. When I was teased mercilessly and ostracized by nearly everyone, I made up characters to serve as “friends” for me. I didn’t have imaginary friends in the traditional sense of the word — I knew these characters were make-believe — but they were real enough to me to fill a void. My long school days were spent daydreaming about these fictional characters, and eventually, their stories spilled onto paper. I’d hurry up and finish my work for the day, then spend the rest of my time fleshing out these characters in stories I dreamed up, usually inspired by whatever I was into at the time. I had a whole series based around three pets trying to get home and the grand adventures they would go on.
My writing is nothing if not derivative, but it’s cool.
That’s part of why I find it harder to write these days. For the first time, I’m genuinely pretty happy. I don’t have to rely on my inner world to satiate my desire for human interaction. I have two amazing partners, a wildly supportive family, and more friends than I know what to do with. But I still love writing to clear my mind on the bad days. It’s how I handle negative emotions, as evidenced by the everything on this blog. If I couldn’t write about my music therapy journey on here, for example, I probably would have lost my mind. The entire experience was so traumatic, I needed to vent about it somehow. Just the act of hitting “publish” on a blog post gives me a sense of relief. As painful as it is to put these emotions down into words, once it’s over, it’s no longer stuck inside me. In a way, it’s emotional bloodletting.
There are other reasons I write too. I realize I have a unique lived experience as a queer polyamorous Christian woman, and I have a platform where I can tell my side of the story. In a world that’s become increasingly hostile to folks breaking the norm, I feel like my words give a voice to a lot of people who aren’t represented in media. I know this from private messages I’ve received. My blog makes people feel seen, and I love it for that reason. My mom always encouraged me to write about socio-political issues — the pen is mightier than the sword, as she would say.
I know I’ve made this joke before, but it bears repeating. It’s what Mom would’ve wanted.
Writing, to me, is my biggest catharsis aside from music, and the two often go hand-in-hand. I’ve written some of my best lyrics as a result of emotional turmoil. “Ladies Don’t Start Fights (But They Can Finish Them)” was written about a feud with a former best friend who betrayed my trust. “Queen” was written during a time when my bipolar swung into a deep depression as a way to lift my own spirits. My newest song, “Fake Nice,” is my way of coping with criticism from my partner’s mother, someone whose opinion of me I valued. If I couldn’t write about the things that bother me, I don’t think I would have made it this far in life.
If you’ve been following my blog for any amount of time, I want to personally thank you for being with me through the highs and lows. It hasn’t been an easy few years, and this blog has seen me through some of my worst days. I appreciate the time you’ve taken to read my words and take them to heart. I do this not just for me, but for you, too! This is my way of screaming to the world, “Hey! You’re not alone!” I just want to be a light on someone else’s darkest times. I want people to read this blog and know that they’re in good company, that things will eventually turn out okay with time.
In fact, I came into this world Jessica Joyce Salisbury, which is a decidedly un-rock star name. Jessica Salisbury is a British schoolteacher.
You KNOW she looks like this.
My dad came up with Jessica, although my mom wanted to name me “Chelsea” or “Ciara,” the latter of which is infinitely cooler than the other two options in my opinion. Can you imagine how powerful I’d be as a Ciara?
At least this powerful.
But “Ciara” was not in the cards, nor was “Chelsea.” “Jessica” ended up being the winner. Unfortunately, it was the winner for many other girls born in 1993. In fact, it was the number one name for baby girls that year. And I had the honor of sharing my name with two other Jessica S’s in my grade, both of whom were my childhood bullies. The name “Jessica Salisbury” was usually proceeded with “ew.” As in “Ew, Jessica Salisbury? I don’t wanna sit by her. Let’s throw ranch dressing at her!”
(Yeah, my childhood sucked ass at times.)
In middle school, I started thinking of alternatives. “Jessie” was what my parents called me and still call me to this day, but it was too cutesy and reminded me of the cowgirl from the Toy Story films. I tried to get people to call me Sophitia, after the Soul Calibur character, but no one went along with it except my dad (until my mom made him stop).
What every seventh grader aspires to.
When I hit high school, I discovered an Australian duo I liked decently enough called The Veronicas, and one of the members went by Jess. I didn’t realize that was an option for me! So I started going by Jess instead. I still go by Jess with family and friends. I guess it’s kind of my “default” name.
But it still didn’t have a rock star quality.
I remember, later on in high school, there was a girl a few grades ahead of me named Jessa. I don’t recall her last name — it was a bunch of consonants smooshed together — but I always thought her first name was really cool. She was cool. She was valedictorian and incredibly pretty and had a great sense of style.
Her name stuck with me until a few years later, when I joined a pop-punk band called Aim Your Arrows. We were semi-famous and even did some touring, and I knew I needed to pick a name for myself that had star quality. The name I picked at the time was Jessa Primrose, taking a surname from a distant ancestor on my mom’s side. But that last name proved to be a little clunky still.
Then I remembered I still had a middle name to work with.
Joyce was my grandma’s first name — I was named for her. Jessa Joyce had an amazing star quality to it, and it honored my late grandma. So when I restarted Wake Up Jamie as a band, I started going by Jessa Joyce.
I don’t mind people calling me Jess still — like I said before, that’s kind of my “everyday person” name. Stefani Germanotta has Lady Gaga, Kayleigh Amstutz has Chappell Roan, and Jess Salisbury has Jessa Joyce. When I perform, I’m Jessa. I almost feel like she’s a separate entity, kind of like how in Yu-Gi-Oh!, Yugi turns into Yami Yugi. (Is that how it worked? I haven’t seen Yu-Gi-Oh! since the Cretaceous era.)
Time to duel.
Jessa is a confident and commanding rock and roll queen, something I tend to not be in my day-to-day life. Jess is the sweetheart, a total marshmallow. Jessa’s the bad bitch. But they’re both part of who I am. They’re both part of the tapestry that is me, and I’m comfortable with that.
I have a confession: I’m fascinated by the worst people. It’s probably detrimental to my mental health, but I often find myself looking in the comments section of absolute cesspools on the internet for hours on end.
In my more naive years, I’d often debate people like this. I’d craft some well-written argument about how yes, trans folks are valid, gay folks should have a right to be with who they please, and black folks should, ya know, exist. This is usually followed by guys with profile pictures that look like a frostbitten toe laugh reacting the post to hell. I’ve since stopped because it’s no use arguing with people who look like this:
Apologies to this man for using him as an example but like, do better bro.
I consider it a matter of knowing my enemy. I want to know what these asshats’ talking points are so I can watch for signs of that shit in everyday conversation. The second someone brings up TERF rhetoric or starts talking about how we need a “straight white pride” month, I know to run in the opposite direction as fast as humanly possible. But also, it’s just kind of fascinating to me. Like, what leads a person to that level of hate? What makes one devolve into posting bullshit like this?
Ahh yes, the worst thing a woman can be, the mother to a biracial child.
It costs zero dollars to not suck. Imagine if people just minded their own business and didn’t brigade random people’s posts because they shared a picture of a queer person having fun? The other day, I had to put one of my own posts on private because it kept getting shared to hate groups. Like, why though? What are people getting out of this? I wasn’t even that mad — haters make me famous and all that — but the notifications were annoying as hell, and I was tired of seeing Greg’s thumb-looking ass popping up on my feed every few minutes.
I guess to me, it’s a reminder of what I fight for everyday. I use my platform on here to humanize the queer experience. I realize a lot of these folks have probably never met someone who isn’t exactly like them. I was similar when I first went off to university. I repeated the whole “Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve” BS because my high school friends would say it — God knows I’d never admit to being bisexual in front of them. But a funny thing happened when I moved to my college town. I met other queer folks and even came to terms with my own queerness, and I changed. But these people have never left their hometowns. They’re in a white, cishet circle-jerk forever, and it’s actually pretty sad. There’s a lot of beauty in human diversity and the way we connect with one another. We’re just people, and we want to live and love too.
Imagine seeing something this precious and being like “wow, I hope they all die.”
I should probably cut back on my “patrolling” these ugly spaces though. Even reporting doesn’t do any good — the comments never get taken down (thanks, Zucc!). Maybe I should look more toward the beautiful things in life and focus my energies there instead. Even the Bible says so:
Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.
I swear whoever makes the prompts for WordPress is stalking me.
What is your career plan?
…is a question that has been on my mind constantly since deciding to step back from music therapy, aka the only career path I saw myself on for literally my entire adult life. Funny how things change so quickly.
So basically, I’m back to the drawing board as far as my career plan goes. I’ve been busy regrouping and trying to figure out my next steps, and I feel like I’m finally getting to a place where I can accept myself as someone other than Jess J. Salisbury, MT-BC. She was someone I’m not, and that’s okay. Adulthood is about constantly rediscovering who you are.
But while I don’t have a solid plan for moving forward yet, I do have a few ideas for how I’d like things to fall together in the future.
Step One: Teach Music
Straightforward enough. I need a job to survive, and I’m not a bad music teacher. I actually enjoy it quite a bit! I’ll need a stable job to fund the next step.
Step Two: Start a Recording Studio
My dream for my music therapy degree was to start a studio akin to this one. I wanted to help people of all ages and abilities to create music they can be proud of. And the good news is, I don’t need a music therapy degree to do this! I can just, you know, start one. Of course, a music therapy degree would add some legitimacy for marketing purposes, but so would…
Step Three: Get a Master’s in Music Production
Okay, maybe I’m just inspired by my girlfriend getting her master’s degree recently (CONGRATS LIVVY!), but I’ve always wanted to get a higher education in…something. I always used to joke that I refused to die before I had “Dr.” in front of my name. I still would like a doctoral degree in something, but first things first. Berklee has a completely online master’s program in music production that looks awfully tasty.
Step Four: Record My Friends’ Bands
When I asked a music producer friend in Nashville what her advice was for getting involved in the industry, she said word-of-mouth was the key to success. So to get my name out there, I want to record music for my friends for free. From there, I can build a following and a client base.
Step Five: Start an Art and Music Collective
This is a bit of a pipe dream, but I want to open a facility for people to safely create in their preferred medium. This could take the shape of a coffeeshop or music venue that puts on shows and has space for artists to work. I want to promote creativity and expression in the community and give back any way I can.
I’m realizing one of the biggest motivating factors behind everything I do is my fear of being forgotten. It’s part of the reason I want kids. It’s part of the reason I want to make recordings of my songs. It’s part of the reason I want to donate a shitton of money someday to get a bench with my name on it. One day, when I die, I want people to remember my name. And I hope my career plan leads me to that sort of immortality. I want to have been a pillar of the community. I want to leave a legacy.
JESSA JOYCE 