Rising from the Ashes

April is arguably my favorite month of the year. There is nothing quite like the sunshine greeting you like a warm hug after a bone-chilling Winter. This year, April has proven to be one of the most exhilarating and testing months I’ve ever endured.

On April 3^rd, I released my album “Charming,” that I had been obsessively working on since last September. I witnessed support in the form of digital streams, frame-able text messages of encouragement, attendance of friends and family to a release party (generously hosted by my neighbor who manages the go-to dive bar on my street), a chance to speak about the project on one of my bestie’s podcast, and general excitement and intrigue. I love this record, and I’m so proud of it. I haven’t listened to it in full in a couple weeks, and I’m going to spend some time with it at some point today. The Charming era is not over- I have more to share about it soon.

On April 4^th, I graced the radio airwaves in a brand new afternoon time slot on one of our local pop stations. This was major. After 8 years working in Promotions, I felt like my time had come. The Program Director saw something in me and blessed me with such a “pinch me” opportunity. Though I probably totaled about 10 minutes of daily airtime, I already had a vision. My time would expand with my talent and comfortability with the gig, I’d name my show “Bobby G FM,” and I would work my way up to the ranks of my brilliant and established colleagues. I created a list of potential sponsors and segments and creative ideas and logos and event pitches and taglines. I saw it clearly, and I now had the agency to build something that could reach my community and extend nationally.

Less than two weeks later, I was called into work to have the rug ripped out from under me. Due to national budget cuts, my position was being terminated. Almost eight years of hanging up banners, early morning charity runs, ticket giveaways in Kroger parking lots, creative meetings, pinching my fingers on tent set ups, sporting events, back stages at concerts, 12+ hour days in the sun, on-air chatter, social media graphics, car wash openings, galas, and making friends with the who’s-who of Cincinnati… Poof. Gone. Within an hour, my email account was shut down, my keys collected, and I found myself alone in my apartment with nothing in front of me except a blank page and a whole lot of newfound time on my hands.

All the while, I was looking and hoping for support in the wrong place. While I filtered through hundreds of DMs, texts, emails and Facebook comments, there was only one that I wanted to run to and to be held by. Understandably, perhaps, but also unrealistic. The support eventually showed itself, but not before I endured a few days of quiet and self-comfort (these days ultimately became sacred and so beneficial). I had a choice to make. Do I resort to my habitual coping mechanisms, wake up groggy, let my body become puffy, and justify it because I’ve been through a lot? Or do I get the fuck out of my apartment, march uphill through Ault Park, talk to the trees, build a new resume, and pour my pain and confusion into art?

I mention the few days of quiet because I needed them. A temporary band-aid from one specific person, or alcohol, would not align with my higher level of responding to loss and change. They say that when it rains, it pours. But there was no rain. Each day proved to be sunnier, warmer and beaming with opportunity than the last. I walked. A lot. I hit the gym. A lot. I started networking. I created a daily list of attainable goals. I cleaned all of my closets, under my bed, my bookshelves, my desk. Were there some cocktails and late nights mixed in? Of course. But there is a stark difference in how I have learned to react to a crisis and how I once recoiled or panicked. I am more disgruntled with major shareholding companies- er, sorry- broadcasting companies- than ever. I am more in love with true art, connection and community than ever. And I am more in touch with myself than I EVER have been before. Though raindrops did not fall, there was still a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

Last weekend, I was honored to once again perform as the guest DJ for the FC Cincinnati Pride match. I got a custom “Bobby G” jersey, my face on the big screen, and played The Beatles, Taylor, and Ari to thousands of people. This weekend, I stood in a custom Mini Cooper while playing music for a go-kart race for charity (and got to ride in a go-kart, which turns out is NOT my thing). Last night, I had the pleasure to soundtrack a stranger’s 50^th birthday party, and kept the dance floor popping all night. I walked to a gay bar afterward and met someone cute and sweet, who I talked to until the sun rose today. Safe to say, I still got it ;)

I have no idea what’s coming next professionally. I’m hoping something sticks soon, and have full faith in myself that it will. I’ve been applying to jobs daily, and haven’t been rolling my eyes at the Indeed links that my parents send me. I welcome them and I write cover letters. Creatively, I’m already working on a new platform to use my voice, I’m in development of my second album and a new poetry book, and I’m storyboarding a children’s book series thanks to an encouraging push from my cousins. Stay tuned. Personally, I feel more alive than ever. I feel hungry for a wholesomeness that would have once bored me to tears. I adore eating clean, exercising (I lift weights now!), and touching grass- so to speak. Nothing thrills me quite like sitting down at 10pm with a snack and my TV show.

One thing about me, I LOVE a rebirth. I can rise from the ashes multiple times in a single month and still not flinch at incoming flames. And though I no longer have a billion-dollar corporation backing my voice, I’m not speechless. I have diamonds in my spirit waiting to be mined.

To quote one of my recent favorite pop singers, “Do you believe in magic? You’re gonna LOVE my next trick… imma leave you spellbound.”

Xo,

BG