I spent the weekend updating my website and turning it into what I’m calling a living resume, a breathing, evolving archive of who I’ve been, who I am, and who I’m becoming. Very grown. Very organized. Very “let me finally acknowledge my own body of work.”
Somewhere between resizing photos and rewriting bios, I stumbled into a small plot twist. I realized I’m featured on two songs from Young Kano’s 2022 album, The So Unreal.
Not new recordings.
Not recent collaborations.
Songs we recorded back in 2011 or 2012… when I was still with MRC.
Which means I accidentally time-traveled.
Naturally, I pressed play.
And y’all… I lowkey don’t even sound like the same person.
Like, I do. But I absolutely do not.
Same soul. Different instrument.
Hearing those songs sent me spiraling in the best way. Not into existential dread (okay, maybe a little), but into curiosity about how much my voice (literally and metaphorically) has changed over the last fifteen years.
Because here’s the wild part:
I didn’t realize I didn’t trust my voice back then.
Not really.
Fifteen years ago, I leaned heavily on other people’s opinions. Sometimes I asked for them. Sometimes they arrived uninvited, wearing Air Force 1s and audacity. And I treated all of them like sacred text.
These days?
The loudest opinion in my ear is my own.
Which is both liberating and mildly terrifying.
Self-trust will do that to you.
Somewhere along the way, self-confidence met curiosity. Curiosity met discipline. Discipline met tenderness. And that combination softened my voice, not in power, but in intention.
It feels more settled now. More embodied. Less like I’m trying to prove something and more like I’m telling the truth.
Also… let’s be honest. I was going through it back then. Capital T through it. My life was screaming a loud “take me through there! Take me through there!” on repeat. Think quirky, ironic, Black horror film..
So of course my voice carried that weight. Of course it sounded sharper. Hungrier. More urgent. That was the language I had.
Updating my living resume also nudged me to start migrating my old SoundCloud catalog onto major streaming platforms. So yes, more of my ancient artifacts will soon be entering the digital group chat.
And today, while revisiting some of those old tracks, something another unexpected occurrence occurred.
I became a fan of myself.
Not in an egotistical, “I invented music” kind of way.
More like a soft, surprised, “damn… she was really doing something” kind of way.
“Crazy (La La)” and “Fired” became new favorites.
Which feels ironic.
Because I wrote them.
But I’m also meeting them again as a different version of me.
Artists, musicians, mediums, creators, weirdos with hard drives full of half-finished dreams, I’m curious:
Have you ever gone back to your old work and felt a deeper appreciation for it than you did the first time around?
Have you ever realized you were braver than you gave yourself credit for?
Have you ever met your younger self through their art and thought:
“Oh. You were trying so hard. And you did better than you knew.”
If you’re in a season where you feel invisible, stagnant, or behind…
Please know:
Your work is still working. Your voice is still evolving. And one day you might accidentally rediscover yourself while updating a website and fall a little bit in love.
Highly recommend.