Well, well, well....if it isn't Fel. (<-- love 2 speak about myself in the third person and simultaneously rhyme)
I write to you now from my home office, which has become a true caricature of itself. The MUSIC PRODUCER AT WORK! Wires, cords, microphones, MIDI controllers, opened boxes, bubble wrap. But somehow there is order in the chaos.
I'm makin-da-sweet music.
And in the process, making myself.
Er. "Making myself" might not be the best phrase.
It occurred to me that the field of self-improvement should be called "self-clarification." Cuz there's nothing to improve.
Growth feels more like stripping away than building up. Stripping away what I was told to be and feel, groping around in the dark for the silhouette of my essential self. Like finding a melody through the noise.
The act of making music has helped me (forced me?) to do this. It's been....wild.
I've been asking myself:
Who am I, independent of judgment, shame, and the rules that were randomly laid...