I've quit some stuff.
Which I guess I'm used to doing.
The most beautiful part about the ending of something is the beginning of something else.
I feel like I'm at the close of a five or four year cycle, which is extremely fitting. Okay. Let me start at the beginning, or the end, I suppose.
The summer before this one seemed to be a high point for me, musically - I was at everything, I was out on the town 3-5 nights a week and at every single festival. Wow was it ever fun. I was full-on Jessy Savage, sober as fuck at all of these events and rocking it beautifully - and inspiring others was truly a beautiful part of these entire experiences. Towards the end of the summer I had a major crash and silently began spending my weekends inside, locked in my room, actually MAKING music - I wrote a ton of songs last summer. I slowly started having more fun doing that.
It's funny, how I think I got trapped inside of a persona. I feel like a few people have tried to explain this to me. I went out last February to a show, the first in months, and phoned a friend, who said to me, "Your voice even sounds different." Isn't it funny ...
I say that I feel more authentically real, but I've been doing things for the wrong reasons and I have gotten caught up in myself, a focused facet of myself.
I'm extremely grateful for every single person that has come, and gone, in my life. I think that human interactions are essential and that we each have something to give and to take from each other. There are a few people I've let go with grace, and accepted the gratitude of loss - thank you for your existence. I wish you the best, genuinely.
I look forward to having human connections that look better off-screen than on the Internet. Friendships that don't require selfies, or check-ins, or photos of shared brunches - fuck it. Friendships that get caught up at shows or festivals, but you never see each other apart from that. No, thank you.
An interesting friend said to me of the musical experience I have and have created, after hearing me vent about how sometimes it's just "not fun" anymore, that part of what I do is glorify the "festival experience" that's sold - and a confession - it's nothing like the Instagram posts. I'm sorry. It can be fun, but companies rely on that FOMO that you all experience. Funnily enough, this past weekend was a music festival and I didn't experience that at all. I worked, and I spent some hours off at the ocean, and that was really enough for me. Festivals are fun, but the festival experience doesn't exist.
This summer I've really taken a step back to spend more time with myself, with my creative hobbies, with my actual interests, rather than being at every single event - in fact, some of you probably haven't even really seen me out and that's super cool.
This is a weird confession, I suppose. But one that's been building.
Last night I sat at a beach and wrote faithfully in a journal, which is funny, a hobby and habit I dropped when I started focusing so heavily on these MEMOIRS, which ARE written - but I stopped caring about. It drained me to think of all of these bad things I've done, bad things done to me, good things I've done, and good things done to me - splayed out in public, ouch. Again I reiterate that I would enjoy the one-on-one human interaction. I'm more effective in person, trust me.
While writing last night I felt a great ending swoop over me as the sun set and it was bigger than I thought it would be. I felt raw, red skin, scrubbed and brand-new. I realized that I've outgrown myself. It only took five years!
Around this time five years ago I was actually named and dubbed 'Jessy Savage' at a bar that doesn't exist anymore. I walked up on stage to sing karaoke (Tiny Dancer! circa Almost Famous) and I felt a warm blanket of comfort surrounding that name, that I got to wear. Now it's uncomfortable and full of cracks. Last night I asked the exact friend who named me that (who has gone through a torrential amount of changes himself) to 'un-name' me Jessy Savage and he said, "Okay, Jessica."
Interestingly enough last night I dreamed that I got called a name I haven't been called in ohhh, four years, and I fell to the ground in tears. But what's in a name, anyways? I'm not comfortable in my birth name, and I'm not uncomfortable in this one, but the funny thing - I've always fucking hated being called Jessy, starting way back in grade school. But I'd rather use this ol' stage moniker than resort to the name I inherited (sorry, Dad, but not really, actually). I don't feel comfortable as a Drummond anymore, either.
I'm good at quitting stuff, in some ways. This feels nostalgic. Maybe life is just on hold at this point. Maybe it's just actually beginning, 3 years earlier than I prophesized. Hah! Take THAT, old me!
I've been told I'm super good at self-fulfilling prophecies, though I don't think it was meant in a good way. I've always said that 30 would be the age that my life 'really started' but since this Eclipse I've felt like life is actually starting - I think anxiety is another thing I'm ready to outgrow. I'm ready to push boundaries more than ever. I'm fucking terrified. I've spent the last four (ouch!) years living content here, chained to the ground and I'm ready to fly, baby.
I'm still quitting stuff. I might always be.
But I'm ready to start starting stuff. For the right and wrong reasons.
C'est la vie.