A P.R.E.T.T.Y. Tailored Sunflower Blog

Petal 46

Why does bad news travel fast? Why is it easier to believe the negative information or rumors about someone than the positive? Why is it always relatable, even when it’s not, when somebody breaks down on camera or vocalizes negative thoughts? Guess what comes next? The tongue-lashings that you shouldn’t be vocalizing negative thoughts or recording yourself crying. Albeit, that last part is kind of true. But why are affirmations so hard to hold close or keep in your vocabulary? Why are they so difficult to believe about ourselves?

It’s so easy to not believe the good things that could be coming our way. It’s so easy to not believe in ourselves when something doesn’t go our way. It’s all too tempting to lean into the whole “Guess what? I’m still stupid” manifesto when doubt or self-criticism sits you down and browbeats you for having hope.

Hope is hard to kill, but even harder to resuscitate once it has decayed inside you. The constant mantra or effort that nothing you do works out, or any other emotion that makes you devalue yourself, is delaying your destiny.

Your dreams are still going to manifest. It doesn’t matter about obstacles like making the effort, working with compromise, financial burdens, or educational obstacles—whatever the blockage is, if it was given to you late at night as a dream to achieve, it will still be achieved. The thing is, the dream has to go beyond you. It sounds weird, but you have to anchor it to something besides yourself. It can be religion for some, or it could be the younger you that is waiting for you to stop rushing the process and skipping key components.

The longer you dig yourself a hole of recapping your losses, the longer the climb will be to get out of it. Reverse affirmations are almost like engineering bad code and faulty pieces into your psyche. The dismantling because of the “No’s” or the lack of measured success can be hard on anyone—I’ve been there myself. Want me to let you in on a little secret? I have been there, and I just got back.

Yes, this is the course of life. It ebbs and flows with wins and losses, and since I can’t be disingenuous, I must say sometimes the losses hit hard. You loose things about yourself when you’re in the thick of it that aren’t true. Maybe they are true for the moment, but not true forever, and it’s a bald-faced lie if it is something you permanently claim for yourself.

As hard as it is, you have to believe it will all work out and all the pain was worth something. Life is not kind to all of us, and sometimes it’s downright cruel. Repeatedly. I could easily let my own barometer dip into negative energy. Does it delay my own dreams? Well, no. Why? Because I think that when things are pushed back because we need to learn more lessons, the time of arrival is the time it was always destined to be at our proverbial front door.

Petal 45

The digital world has engulfed us all. The world is moving so quickly and information is packed into bite-sized content and think pieces without the true engineering of whether the information is correct or not.

There is a huge influx of people clinging to sound bites to form opinions on topics that are not throughly researched. We give out tongue lashings to people from our high horse without taking the time to clean our own stables. We are engaged with ourselves and our ideologies to the point that we are not even capable of understanding one another. So why do we do it? It seems that gone are the days when we would think critically on if we should share our opinion or let it be restricted.

Sometimes we judge too harshly. There is a time and place for everything and I know when something triggers you, it’s hard to keep your tone in check to make sure your point is being understood. I think at the same time, we tend to overcorrect ourselves to present this polished pageantry of our lives on social media. I get it, we have all been guilty of it. I know that keeping friendships alive are similar to curating your feed. What you engage with, shows up on your algorithm. How you engage your friends and how often shows up in your life in other ways when you least expect it.

For example, I turned 30 two weeks ago and to be honest I wasn’t really planning on doing anything special. I had tickets to a Comic-Con convention to meet the star of the Flash, Grant Gustin; I would pivot to my Marvel/DC lore but this entry isn’t about that. I went hiking with a friend the week before not even knowing that the same friend and a bunch of others would be in my backyard on Friday night May 15th, waiting for me.

My nearest and dearest friends I have known for years from LA, New York, Virginia, even my best friend from Texas flew in to see me. I was shocked and so elated. I did not know how much I needed my community. I did not realize how much we go at things alone, until you get loved on all at once. It almost makes you emotional, it was a knee jerk reaction to dart my eyes elsewhere. Seeing the tablecloths of my song lyrics and the bedazzled numbers in lights that said 30. The gold carpet and bedazzled shiny gold backdrops and huge banners with my face.

Petal 44

The wetlands and the marsh of Minden, Louisiana based on pictures on Google are very haunting. There is so much rich history, some positive, and some extremely dark in those certain places of the deep American South. I was raised in Texas, but most of my family comes from Arkansas and Minden, Louisiana. The two hundred acre farm that my great grandmother owned in Minden, Louisiana didn’t even have indoor plumbing until the 1970s. Land ownership mattered more than flushing capabilities, and it still does. The term Cowgirl is an umbrella term; sometimes used mockingly, sometimes endearingly.

I remember moving to California a decade and a half ago, and being called Country and I smiled big like it was a compliment. I could not yet define the subtext and the layers in the messaging, much like the deep swamp waters of the South that have underwater cliffs cascading into an abyss like souls that never truly ascended.

There were many casting offices and executives who sized me up and down and seemed tired of my need to wear cowboy boots with every outfit rain or shine. I was always proud of my heritage; and didn’t care too much that I didn’t “fit in.” I naturally evolved from cowboy boots to stilettos, but I won singing competitions in both cowboy boots and heels.

California was truly a paradise but sometimes a hazy one. Making genuine friends didn’t come easily to me either. It was most likely because of my occupation which can be overwhelmingly competitive but I took it all in stride. I think of myself as a performer and artist. As a spokesperson for my true self. Being “Chelsea J” is almost like a professional alter ego, who knows how to find the balance between being authentic and not revealing too much.

I state my opinions diplomatically, and reveal information about myself without oversharing with the threat of unwelcome exposure. I trip over pebbles like everyone else, I just don’t make a point of pointing out that I slipped. Is there an altruistic side of me? Absolutely. After all, I am a grown woman. This is perhaps a protective coat of armor I wear to protect the inner me, the younger me.

The fair maiden from Minden Marsh still gets nervous in new crowds. She loves to dress up and express herself in her fashion choices as a conversation starter. Her confidence comes from “turning it on” and maybe she has a better sense of her passions by never trading in her idealistic view of the world.

Petal 43

I thought I knew things at 16. At 22, I was positive about my life path. At 26, everything shifted. The stereotype that you have a huge mental shift and a second puberty in your mid to late twenties is so true. I still feel like I’m finding my feet. Granted, my goals in life have not changed.

I want to do what makes me happy, and of course that is enveloped in the field of the arts but I think some restructuring on what my definition of success or being happy is, changes over time. I know that there are some ways that I am perceived that I have no control over. When I was younger, I was convinced to prove to people that their perception of me has holes or blind spots.

As I mature, anybody having an opinion on me to comment at all, is flattering. It’s like you’d rather be a polarizing figure than an indifferent one. So many female musicians like Beyoncé or Taylor Swift, have such large followings and influence where they are considered polarizing figures.

I use them as examples since I’m a huge fan of both. The root of the problem I think in daily life comes from, not knowing when to weigh something as a problem. You have to come to a conclusion that maybe there is no definitive end.

Life is an endless loop of crossroads that you will come to where people will either misunderstand you, understand you completely, or dismiss you altogether. You need to keep on doing you and not register any result be it positive or negative, as a problem.

If one were to analyze other people’s opinions of us, we lose our joy and kindness because we are too busy filibustering our outlook and our intentions.

As long as you and the people around you know where you’re coming from, by always watching your step, there is a degree of overcorrecting yourself out of insecurity.

At that point, you’re leaving yourself unprotected. Are you seeking attention, and fishing for compliments by asking obvious questions about your worth or value and letting it be dictated by others?

Think for a moment. From womb to tomb, we are on display. If we want to work from a positive mindset that is free from chaos, we have to trust that we are going to be just fine. There will be moments where opinions get to us and we will take it personally, but our empathy battery has to be charged in full so that we cannot let it simmer.

By giving ourselves grace to know when we do let the bad in too far in our lives, we can proactively counter it by our convictions. Just don’t do that thing where you’re giving yourself grace to the point that you’re not moving at all, still stuck at the crossroads considering which road to take that gets less people talking about you.

Petal 42

When you blow up balloons for parties (which is something that I do pretty often when I’m hosting a birthday party, my annual summer splash, or Christmas parties; you typically use an air pump.) My trusty air pump has come in handy for my pool loungers and floaters or when I need to blow up balloons. Once the party is over, I have to deflate them.

When you’re someone who struggles with anxiety like myself, the popping of balloons can send you into a spiral. I just feel like the best way to self soothe when deflating, is to cut the bottoms of the balloon rather than go ballpoint-pen crazy.

I am definitely someone who feels like procrastination can happen because I know that once something is completed all the air sucks out of the room. The metaphorical balloon deflates, then it’s off to the next summit or venture.

It’s a bittersweet process of digging in your heels to accomplish something and actually completing it and having to start your storyboard all over again for a new project. You want the end result but you may have made-to-order misgivings about the process. You’re not sure if you will get there in a timely fashion, and you’re not sure that you will be satisfied with the result.

Some plans take longer than others to achieve and then you don’t want to let it go. You liked having an obstacle to talk about. The drama of “Will I, or won’t I”, gives you the energy boost of adrenaline. You have a goal that you prioritize, but you aren’t sure about the mental cost of the process and if you’re secretly working at capacity. We all do it. We psych ourselves out of something great by not living in the moment.

Petal 41

There is a difference between a rhetorical question and a rhetorical answer. Rhetorical questions typically don’t need answering. It’s meant to provoke a deeper thought an inner dialogue of discussion. I do this early and often with myself. Not just as an artist, but as a writer; my thoughts are always channel surfing. I hate to use the term racing; because that makes me picture panic. I think my brain is like a buoy that doesn’t bob on one subject for long before floating around to another detail.

A rhetorical answer is a little bit more spacey. It’s almost like sarcasm which in my opinion is just pain masked as humor or unchecked egos that drain the joy out of a conversation. I think sometimes we resort to witty responses not in a humorous way; but almost a cranky response because we aren’t ready to deal with what’s eating us. It’s sort of how being a creative; if you aren’t working on something or working through something it’ll come out in other ways; like having anxiety, depression, or aimlessness.

The same way your body responds to your sleep debt, or how if you run yourself down you get a bad cold, the triggers of the rhetorical that has gone unanswered and unattended will leave you feeling abandoned by your own psyche if you’re not careful. Sounds dark; huh? I don’t mean 51-50 abandonment of your psyche; I mean living life on autopilot level of abandonment. Your friends ask how you are and the answer is always “I’m Fine.”

I get it. It’s so much easier sometimes to just put the thoughts down, let it all blend together and just coast. Let the mistiness of the unknown and all the existentialism evaporate. I mean, life has enough going on already. Who needs more? Who needs an explanation for everything? It’s like standing in your purpose, but forgetting your “Why”. It’s feeling fulfilled with friends and family, but not exploring your boundaries. It’s being social media savvy, but insecure about your captions. It’s being photogenic and camera shy. Maybe life is both.

Petal 40

The curmudgeon side of all of us can rear its ugly head at any opportune moment. The knee-jerk reaction to undercut someone who asks too many personal questions, has to be suppressed as long as possible; to be a fully functioning member of society. A lot of times we don’t really say what we mean. We don’t like to appear to be the complainer, so we act like we are ok with everything; even when we’re not. What’s the alternative?

Nobody wants to be that one person who can’t ever be happy. There are waves of reports that the world got meaner after the pandemic and many of us are not fighting it; we embrace it. By pointing it out, I’m not here to condemn; just stating the obvious. Maybe this was just a decoy; a thinly veiled attempt to avoid why I’ve been M.I.A. on here.

To be honest? A lot has happened. I spent most of last year doing musical theatre and some short film work. I decided to hit up some places that I’ve been long overdue to visit. Venues such as, “The Pink Wall”, or my first Dodgers Game. I went to the movies; a lot. Well, that last part I do every year so that’s nothing out of the ordinary. I lent my voice to benefit concerts in the wake of the LA wildfires. I saw Cowboy Carter on tour which was just as exceptional as the Renaissance tour of 2023; but more personal for the Texas Woman I am at heart. I got more tattoos (Sorry, mom). I spent time with friends and managed my family, work/life balance. I felt this tug to return to blogging last month, and the itch was endless until I realized I need to go back to writing again.

Petal 39

I shed a tear for Texas, two for the Lonestar state the place where my crown grew ornate, the little girl in me who dreamed of destiny determined and strong provided with a new song.

I mourn what used to be now barren like the garden of Gethsemane, the elephant and donkey the produce in the serpent, the tree that grows in the garden of intolerance “these colors don’t run, don’t tread on me” the right wing proclaims, dark meat versus light, but we cook just the same.

It’s odd to measure and assess the blame when we’re bleeding out just the same. Democracy died because it was never meant to survive sycophantic battle cries. Golden State is on fire the embers engage in smoke-filled dialogue on whose cost should be paid. Zip codes equal happiness neighboring territories cry; historically black is historically brought the brunt burnt end of a long line of apathy.

I shed a tear for Texas two tears for what I used to know. How thunderous and loud is nostalgias undertow. I missed the days when I looked to the future, not knowing what is to come. Not knowing then that Now is Good stop keeping an eye out for more. My faith is tested, my will is strong; muscles atrophy under the resounding pressure where absolute power means absolute death.

Clemency and empathy is as real as a story in a book imaginative little girls read tucked into bed reciting prose of a princess.

Glass slipper

Glass cliff

Fairy godmother

Angel of death

Happy ending

Ever after is here

The book isn’t upside down

but the words aren’t making sense