Yes, I'm Changing / Tame Impala

"Yes I'm changing, can't stop it now
And even if I wanted I wouldn't know how
Another version of myself I think I found, at last"


-Kevin Parker (Tame Impala)


Yes, It's been 5 months already. My semester abroad has abruptly ended. I'm currently writing this from the local coffee shop in Maplewood, NJ. Its a beautiful Thursday afternoon, the sun is shining, the wind is blowing and I have *Surprise Surprise* NOTHING TO DO!!!!

Well I wouldn't say nothing. In the grand scheme of things, I have many emails to send regarding my upcoming single releases and many meetings  having to do with marketing. But I have no sense of urgency. A feeling that has been bullying me for the past year. I can say I'm finally learning to relax.

My time abroad was life changing, as cliche as it sounds. I truly went through so many beautiful and heart wrenching changes. And I love it. I love these growing pains. This Tame Impala song was on repeat throughout my journey from Spain back to the US. The lyrics perfectly captured my growth. The laid back beat, sad and nostalgic undertones. It was a perfect vibe. All of the adventures had abroad, all of the lovely souls I encountered and surrounded myself with, I've discovered my new self. I am determined to be a positive female energy in other peoples lives and also to surround myself with this positive female energy as well.  I have such a thirst for self and soul discovery now! I've always been curious but now I'm no longer afraid of the consequences of reaching out for what I want. That goes for my musical expedition.

Get ready for a new sound people. This Tame Impala vibe is coming for you and so am I! I'm ready to show you what I'm slowly but surely learning about myself. That it's ok to relax and it's also ok to fight for what you want. You'll see what I mean soon enough (cough cough June 21st)!!


Poetry 101

Introduction to Poetry

BY Billy Collins


I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide

or press an ear against its hive.

I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,

or walk inside the poem’s room
and feel the walls for a light switch.

I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author’s name on the shore.

But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.

They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.


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