I just finished the KMEL blast for the event coming up on Saturday. Gregory Maguire's newest bestseller, A Lion Among Men, is tossed on my four post bed with the plastic booklight firmly attatched to the binding of the hardback. Albums for review by hustlers scatter the bedding and my plush woven carpet from Indonesia. Subconsciously having Jasmine in mind, I had swiped out my credit card, the one I had promised myself five years ago is for emergencies only, but now has an overwhelming balance, and had bought myself my own magic carpet ride. Now I even have the tiger to go with it, my Persian kitty Rahjah. Nose high up in the air and not availing herself to my attention when I call her, she looks like a cat goddess from Egypt's ancient day; snoot and all. My personal diary lays open on a blank page, waiting for the familiar Tiffany's pen to massage quail ink with words formatted with calligraphy. A practice long forgotten and a talent passed on by my family, Auntie Cynthia and Auntie Stella had coached me the stroke of a pen. Novels and encyclopedias and magazines and newspapers enriched my memory and cursive, perfected over page by page of words put together a dance on paper. I indulged myself in books and fashion and music and the liberal arts and later on, business. It shows on me. I believe how you present yourself to the world is your being and your being will help you accomplish so much more than whatever you told yourself you'd be. This morning, I had gone into SF Weekly to edit out more archives. It amazes me how many stories come pouring in from one night in San Francisco and how many freelance journalists are fighting for a cut and recognition for what they believe is news. Event coverage runs through the pages, I scan blurs of what the editors are looking for to feed the city of San Francisco. Veering towards one thing then another. Village Voice Media runs an account and veers another way on me and suddenly my sleepy morning in the fall of San Francisco turns into a wildfire of journalists, editors, coffeegrubbers, and know it all gurus cussing underneath their breathe and breathing fire down whoever dares to disagree with them. I'm the youngest family journalist to the branch, and they call me their baby. "Baby, do this for me." "Baby, did you see that story?" "Baby, look at this and tell me what you think of this write-up." After, I went home, grabbed my textbooks and laptop and headed to my other job. I socialized with businessmen who had just gotten off planes from New York, Washington DC, Tennessee, Texas, and pilots flying in from Hawaii, Chicago, Maine, and Georgia. I ordered drinks for guests with thick accents from Little Rock, Arkansas and watched the 49ers lose a great Monday Night Football game to Arizona while I bloomed social butterfly with local guests from Bakersfield who were in for a convention at the property. Surrounded a good amount of my day by the upper middle class and that other 6%, I greet and hear their stories and views and takes on how they had gotten what they were after. And I take it in. Instead of creating blame and hate, I listen. And learn. Always keep on learning. Today, some jeweler retailer from New Mexico told me he was in the Peninsula because he was buying out a chain of jewelry stores in the Bay Area that were going to close. A guest that stays at my property for at least 75 nights a year, when given his outstanding bill for the round of drinks at the bar, had replied to me, "It's just money."
Then I went away from perfect Burlingame, back to San Francisco, and home my hood, the Visitacion Valley. I got on worker mode and started producing things for Distortion 2 Static and ended with the write up blast for KMEL while putting in a random album, transferring files to others, replying back to emails, texts and phone calls and making myself a cup of coffee while keeping myself sane chitchatting with friends on AIM. The day wont be over until I'm satisfied with my what I've progressed throughout it.
When I was 6 I wanted to be an actress and a princess. When I was 12 I wanted to be a newscaster. When I was 15 I wanted to my own library. When I was 16 I knew I was good at fashion and stayed in it for 7 years. When I turned 18 I knew I was headed into the business industry. When I was 22 I became a hustler. Now, I'm 24, and I've done everything I had told myself I was going to be and do when I was 6, 12, 15, 16, 18, and 22.
I had had a cup of coffee with Lori today and Lori just shook her head and said, "I dont know how you do it." If someone could have given me everything I had ever wanted on a silver platter I think I would have replied that I wouldn't want everything I'm after to tarnish. It's true when they say it means more when you work for it. Can't Stop. Won't Stop. I'll see you all at the top.
-Jacqueline
