Ok, So

Opinions from an Opinionated Model: From Someone Least Required to Talk.

You know the funny thing about life?

It’s always alive and present, we just choose not to see sometimes. Gut and subconscious are an even funnier thing because she consistently knows, the mind feigns ignorance. Children are tapped into their vital essence. The world of adults with their burdens and failures empty it out of them— us.

I’ve been meditating on how children have prescience abilities and are able to see things for what they are, and in many ways know who they are.

I suppose I can only speak for myself in this situation, but I had this knowing of precisely who I was meant to be when I was a child. It was in many ways the core of my reality.

Whether it was standing in front of my grandmother’s bathroom mirror accepting an Oscar. In my own world, everyone else in theirs.

Or pretending I was Whitney Houston singing “I Will Always Love You” in the black mirror reflection of my dad’s manifestation of the American Dream: 60 inch widescreen tv, baby. Then suddenly struck with embarrassment as my brother found me as amusing entertainment with covered laughters and pointed fingers.

Most infamously, when my 6th grade English teach, Ms. Britton, wrangled all the kids for a written manifesto on “Who do you want to be when you grow up?”. Though benign, still willfully misguided to choose a “realistic” career. Not athlete. Not even an astronaut was allowed.

My mind swiftly erased actor, model, artist etc before pen to paper even met.

In its place: nurse. Later in high school: anthropologist.

I grew up in a freshly immigrated household. Everyone around me lived day to day. The idea of career or dreams beyond what we had in front of us wasn’t in our lexicon. Feelings weren’t validated. Emotions weren’t talked about. Guidance wasn’t offered. Everyone, as I’ve come to learn, trying to find theirs too.

But as I’ve come to find out the dreamer child, inner force beyond me, never completely disappeared. It followed me like a shadow; carried me like an old friend.

But it hasn’t been a linear journey. Though the child knew who she was, it was forgotten once she grew up. So many self-inflicted missed opportunities. Sprinklings of self-sabotage. Crippling self-doubt. I listened to the dreamer child just enough to get me along, but not enough to full throttle into my broader goals and ambitions.

But I suppose the lesson is …

it’s Present.

Even if we choose not to listen.

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As I write this currently living in New York City. My mid-20s spent and gone in the city that never sleeps. Wayward and looking for connection, a sense of direction. I found a little bit of myself in everyone I met: Some good, some not so good. Some temporary, some forever.

I face myself. I’ve entered a new decade. Saturn returned!

20-something single female in NYC. There are a million think pieces on this. This isn’t a manifesto.

What I can say is I spent all those years afraid of stepping into my power. Afraid of my own light. New York is a playground. I didn’t know the game. (There’s a game? I was so green.)

7 years in New York City.

My personal journey to get here is long and storied. But I am ready to TALK.

Am I the only one who hates it when someone asks, “What do you do?”

When the question is posed, I rarely say, “I’m a model.” My go to was, and still is sometimes, “I work in fashion.”

Maybe I always felt uncomfortable stating my profession because it never felt deserving. Did I work enough to call myself this?

But also, everyone in New York is a “model”. Am I doing anything different?

To triple down, there’s unease in my profession being so undeep.

Talking is the last thing required of me.

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I was in trouble when I realized I liked talking to the crew more than being in front of the camera.

It’s important to build a rapport with your photographer so when you become their subject, there’s ease. Gossiping with hair and makeup girls is legendary. Stylist have the best tips on shopping. And ask any gaffer to nerd out on camera tech.

I’ve learned now to live in my skin and appreciate the power in modeling, but it still doesn’t scratch the proverbial itch. There is so much gas left in the tank for other artistic endeavors I have yet to manifest.

Not to start my own fashion brand or become an influencer DJ (no shade whatsoever), but to dedicate myself to be of service in my own way.

In the infancy of my 20s, I remember vividly saying to myself “this is it” — this is what makes me feel alive. It was right after I had, to be honest, a super sick conversation with my high school friend Tyler P. I scratched the surface of my passions. I felt it, but couldn’t name it.

So in the infancy of my 30s, I call it “getting together to talk”.

Via my current film/ video work. Via this SubStack. I have too many thoughts and opinions on varied topics (film, fashion, dating in NYC— yikes!) that I’d love to explore and share with the world.

All my interests lead me down a road of connection on a higher level. Elevated dialogue. Sharing of ideas and opinions. Conversations conducive of something bigger than us.

Say something more than what is expected.

Let’s begin.