To be honest, (and if you can’t be honest in a blog what even are you doing with your life) I haven’t written anything in a while. I’ve been hustling. Like really hustling. Targeted hustling. Next level hustling. I have been setting up meetings, pitching myself, my projects and spending a lot of time trying to convince people, without being a total dick, to believe in my work. And the work I am doing with my writing partner. Selling myself while at the same time trying not to sell myself too much. Presenting myself as a badass while also trying to add the right amount of humility, humor and earthiness. It’s a show but not a show. It’s an act but also the truth. It’s the subtle art of mixing authenticity with the best version of yourself or at least the most charming…and it’s tiring as fark. Networking also means listening to others as they pitch themselves and their projects. Really paying attention to another person as they put their best self forward. As they tell you what they need. How they got to where they are now. I’ve been thinking of ways in which I can help them. Who do I know? What can I offer? Who can I connect them to, who in my world, might really dig them and their work? How can I be of service?
I have had many jobs and some were awful. And I realize that being able to spend time networking is in many ways, a farking luxury. I do. But still, it’s been hard. And that’s just the truth. It’s a grind. And right now, it’s a grind without a paycheck of any kind attached. It’s a grind without any sort of health insurance. It’s a hopeful and at times exciting grind, but hard ass work nonetheless. The dream is that those things will come. One day. The dream is that I will one day be able to earn actual dollars for my art. And that the people I am networking with will also be able to earn actual dollars for their art. It’s a long shot. We know this. But we do it any way. Because we need to try. And Zoom is free. (For 45 minutes)
What it really is…I’ve decided…is that I am looking for champions. Not saviors, but champions of my work. I have tried looking for saviors. That shit doesn’t work. It leads to really farked up co-dependent relationships with a side of suicidal ideation and a big ass dash of regret. Believe you me; I have tried the savior thing. Also…cults. Need I say more?
We all need champions. We can believe in ourselves and our work until the cows have long since come home and BEEN in the bed, but somewhere along the line we need other people, even just one person, to champion us. Another human being, with keys to a locked door to say, “You know what? I’m gonna open this goddamn door for you. What you do once you are in there, is up to you…but I am opening this door for you.” And I believe once we are in through that door we have a responsibility to listen for other badasses knocking and OPEN THE FARKING DOOR FOR THEM. So I guess The purpose of all this Zooming and phone calling and networking is to be with other people, really farking BE with them and say, after listening to them and really seeing them, “I will open the door for you when I can, will you open the door for me?” And some will. Maybe not all the time. But some will. And those are your champions. And some won’t. And that’s just the truth. SOME FOLKS WILL NOT OPEN THE DOOR FOR YOU. And trying to figure out WHY will probably make you insane. Humans are so farking complicated. And like my writing partner says, EVERYTHING IS PSYCHOLOGY. So it’s probably not worth your time wondering why someone WON’T champion you and your work. Unless you are a total asshole and then it’s time for deep therapy and probably some 12 Step work. If you want to know if you are an asshole ask the people you live with. They will tell you. If you live alone...ask your mail carrier. But mostly, it’s a lost cause to focus on our non-champions. That door is locked. But here’s the good news. There are approximately 67,435,345,3453 doors on the planet. Try another one.
Champions come in all different forms. And can help in many different ways. Once, after my mom was diagnosed with terminal cancer, a schizophrenic with a tendency to shout obscene things saved my life at a party. His name was Lafayette. He was a friend of a friend. We got talking at a Christmas party and I burst into tears telling him about my mom’s diagnosis. He looked at me dead in my eyes and then shouted, “YOU ARE GOING TO BE OKAY, GIRL! YOU ARE GOING TO MAKE IT.” And I believed him. Lafayette opened a door for me. In that moment, he was my champion. Then he went on to talk about how Bob Newhart was responsible for the Challenger disaster. But for that moment, he was my champion. And I will be forever grateful.
I like to think I have been a champion for other people. I think I have. I know I probably could have opened more doors when I had the keys, I do. I know I am still learning how to champion other people. It’s hard. It takes energy and patience and sometimes you have to champion someone even though you hate their terrible haircut. Lol. Because something in their vibe, their hustle is undeniable. You just know, in your bones they need championing. And sometimes you just decide not to champion someone. And that’s okay too. They’ll find their champion. But I think we owe it to each other to listen. For a minute anyway. Or 45. And see each other. And then decide. Is there a door I can open for this person?
Now if you’ll excuse me I am going to watch reruns of The First 48 from 2006 because…they need champions too.
