Alright, first post.
I’m at my dad’s place, coming at ya from the bottom bunk of my bed here. It was a gift from my grandfather, two winters ago. I had just crash landed at my dad’s (in an extended way), my sister had done the same, and the bunk bed allowed us to finally retire the living room air mattress.
I still moved out as soon as I could; the transition from my own apartment on the other side of the world to the bottom bunk at my dad’s was harsh. And in what would be my last conversation with my grandpa, I tried explaining that to him. I think I said sleeping in the bunk bed fulltime at 26 made me sad. Something like that. And I think he understood, or he understood that I was sad, and he looked a bit sad too.
That was near the beginning of the production journey. I never showed him my piano demos, though I had been writing songs and recording them on my phone for years. But I had just started on Logic, I was excited, and I worked up the courage to show him a single produced demo, Akka. He texted me loving praises for it and I am so grateful that he shared the praises in person too, in that last conversation.
I didn’t know it would be the last conversation. I would have shared more. I would have shared everything.
I get very sad sometimes (and am a little bit sad all of the time) that he never got to see me succeed, or even find my footing really. He was the Sun. I was his first grandchild. My whole life, we were both so excited for me to become my own star, whatever that would mean. And then… I just didn’t. I couldn’t. I failed, again and again, and I hid.
That is the worst part. I hid from him.
But he was so emphatically proud of me, just for existing. He loved me limitlessly. And he got to hear my music. Just the one song, but he heard it and understood it.
He urged me: keep creating.
So I must.
Tomorrow, I have my first voice lesson in preparation for a conservatory audition. I’m scared there’s something ridiculous about the whole idea. Assuming I get into the program, I would be graduating with a voice degree at 33. Is 33 too late for a BFA? It’s almost a rhetorical question.
But what else would I get my degree in? That is the actual rhetorical question.
Keep creating, keep creating, keep creating.
Love from the bottom bunk,
Tennessee