Word to Masta Ace
(confessions of a commitment-phobe)

I woke up today feeling listless. I spent the last few days working on a piece that is part of a larger writing project. I busted my ass writing every chance I got before, during and after my 9 to 5. The anxiety fueled rush of having to submit something kept my momentum. I wrote hard. And I awaited a response. The reply came late last night. Not what I had originally wanted, but something beautiful regardless. I should have been happy, but instead, I woke up feeling drained. The implications of the email made me realize I had a long journey ahead of me. And I'd known this all along; I just hadn't made the commitment. Been talking a good game, when in reality, I've been half-assing it.

I talk about my creative endeavors openly. I put myself out there as an artist. And I see myself as such. And for good reason; I have published and performed. But none of it means anything if I'm not truly committed to the creative process. If I'm not truly on the grind. Harsh but true. Because I'm no longer trying to make excuses. And here I am now, not at a crossroads, not in transition, not in some kind of crisis mode. I am exactly where I need to be. Scared as shit, but here: committed to myself, my creative potential and my craft.