Entry for Round 3 of the NGADM 2022. . .

Done in dedication to my loved ones. ...Don't worry about me. :)

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Sat almost the entire 2 weeks not even able to sample/write/produce/arrange a thing. Too apprehensive, feeling burned out, hopeless, meds still kicking my ass. Being in the "loser" side really made me feel like one, when it honestly shouldn't. I've been juggling for hours and weeks on end between two contests and side-projects, getting everything done and worked on to the best of my ability, despite feeling all the time like I can't or am incapable of doing it.

I should be proud of myself.

...I read people's comments and critiques on my songs and in my PMs. . .

I hear you, even if trapped inside my own insecurities, anxieties, and worries.

This one was even more of a struggle to get out there, and I didn't/don't think I can force or squeeze much more out of it. ...Kinda funny how both this year's and last year's Round 3 of the NGADM ended up pretty minimalistic. Put about 4 ideas on the backburner (a spooky psytrance song, me actually trying to sing some lo-fi hip-hop, something funk-related, and an attempt to do electro-swing), before finally "giving up" and doing this instead. Tried to focus a lot more on processing, post-production and mixing/mastering after the arrangement (e.g. using wave/spectrogram monitoring plugins to check for true peaks and clips, etc)...

Frustrated. Tired. But IDK... Something really hit me--hard--when I made this. It hits a lot of points in my own head--like logical me speaking to emotional me. I saw the whole short film, and the woman in it sounded like my mother. Her woes with her husband sounded like my father. Her woes as she grew older...sounds like me... I guess things never change and there truly is nothing new under the sun, whether it's 1950 or 2022. Whether you're Black, or White...

Don't know if I can go on--for now--and I am unsure if I'll do anything Halloween-related for NG (or its lil' contest thingy that runs yearly near/around the 31st). Got a show/play to study up for, and am feeling hella burned out. I'll surely push myself to try...

But I leave ya'll with ♥s, and this tidbit, with as much logic, care and emotion as I can currently give:

When feeling like you're at your lowest low, write a little ditty, sleep, and let it go.

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"A reflection of your life, is a reflection of your parents' life...is a reflection of your grandparents' life...ad infinitum. . . Thoughts, feelings, joys, sorrows, regrets--you can try to pull yourself away from them, as you get older, as they became older, as you became them. And now you start to understand. How they felt. What they did wrong. The same, if not similar mistakes you've made. . . Did you do wrong, by yourself? By others? Yes, perhaps, and no. But therein lies the difference. You climbed that mountain a different way. You took a different path. Always remember:

You can.

You can.

They can no longer."

~ PoVs, by Vodoú Queen

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Inspiration taken from Boards of Canada & The Flashbulb (TYSM @LLAAPPSSEE ♥ )

Song Icon Art: "Falling" by Clara Lieu

Voice-Over Excerpts from "Mrs. Potter" in the audiovisual film 'The Steps of Age - Emotions of Everyday Living' (Mental Health Film Board, 1950) -- description provided; learn more about the film and its transcript at the National Library of Medicine's Digital Collections.

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VO + Lyrics:

I've been away since morning, walking and thinking. . .

I had cheeks like flowers.

I could run all day long, and never get tired.

I wore gingham dresses, and I could skate like a boy.

...Because the weeks went by so fast,

And so many Sundays, and Christmases, and Fourth of Julys. . .

And suddenly...so many years are gone. . .

...Finished so quickly. . .

And you wake up after a fight with your [dear],

And do something foolish.

And there you are, mad and angry, and foolish.

And face to face with all the mistakes you've ever made,

In all your whole, long life.

[In.]

You don't know me...like I know you.

[In.]

But you don't need to, worry about me.

Where do you learn to live?

How do you end what's ended,

But forever and ever?

(Don't worry about me. . .)

(Worry about me. . .)

How do you leave the house where you were married?

(Don't worry about me. . .)

"...Worry about me."

Where do you learn to live,

When the whole world's shaking and changing around you,

And nothing's the way it was?

Where do you learn to be old?

----

My husband, Jimmy. . .

We buried him a year ago, in May. . .

But he had died a long time before that.

And maybe it was some of my fault. . .

Could I have in any way helped him?

Given him a reason to live?

Encouraged him to look beyond his job,

So he wasn't finished,

When the job was finished. . ?

Showed him some sure proof,

That I loved him?

Is there anything I could've done?

How was it possible to save him?

Maybe...you start with this: that you're alive;

That every voice, and every face, and every second is precious--

And nothing like it will ever happen again.

The house where you live can be a prison.

Or a place of love.

The room where you sleep can be a closet full of tears...

(In.)

Or a quiet bed and a window full of real voices. . .

(You don't know me...like I know you.)

Which can I have?

Which do I deserve?

Some of it depends on me.

(In.)

But some of it must depend on other people. . .

Because I need [them].

(But you don't need to, worry about me.)

Because growing old is so much easier,

If someone loves and understands you. . .