InvestiGATA: The Ask-Me Video Series

I have a good friend, Ericka, who was listening to me hem and haw over content choices for my channel on YouTube. "Why not do a question/answer/advice thing?" she suggested.

"Why not," indeed...

Frankly, I didn't think it would matter if I did or didn't-- I mean, was anyone really willing to ask ME anything? It just so happened that she was actually right. Much to my surprise (and in some cases, my chagrin), I did manage to get a few questions, and some of of them are tough, so you know I wouldn't ask myself these things, for those of you who might think I cheated or something. I've compiled the best and will be posting these in the first of a new video series called "InvestiGATA".

Know what that means?

That means you can ask me some questions!

Though hopefully not as intense as the ones asked by THIS woman.

What kinds of questions? Ask advice, my opinion, stuff you wanna know! AS LONG AS THEY'RE RESPECTFUL QUESTIONS, I will answer all I can and post it in a video to my YouTube and Vimeo channels. Deal?
You can ask via my tumblr or shoot me an email. Please keep them respectful. Ask yourself, "Is this something I would want to be asked?" If not, then, maybe think of something you'd want to be asked.
Let's keep it fun and interesting...can't wait to see what you ask!

I Need To Be Free! (or: "I Need To Dance...Like, NOW"*)

The need to shake my kitteh tail is O. VER. WHELMING.

I...must...DANCE!!!

I don't mean like, go-to-the-club dance...I mean put-in-like-five-or-six-hours-a-day-in-rehearsal dance.
I used to go to a dance academy on a scholarship when I was a teen, taking five disciplines in one week...and then had to go and TEACH dance in the middle of all that. My body actually misses doing this. I think it was the happiest time of my life...with the exception of ballet, because I am low to the ground. I preferred the grounded-ness of hip-hop and house styles. But I still loved ballet in spite of myself. This time in school even helped inspire my first novel...but that's a different subject altogether. (^_^)

It's funny... because as a Gatita, I had absolutely NO rhythm. Couldn't even jump rope. Man, did I get made fun of! But eventually, with some guidance (thank you, mi amor) and some practise on my own (and a fxckton of music videos), I got it together. Yet, I eventually let it fall by the wayside.

Why?

 I think being responsible and putting all my focus into being a mami, dealing with depression, then not going out to dance as much until I stopped altogether...plus being forced to hide my light under a bushel in certain relationships... then the weight gain-- all of that took its toll. And it didn't help when people in my own camp seemed to belittle the dance part of this brand. Never mind that most of the music involved in it is danceable.

Well... since dance is a big part of the GATA Experience, I have to pull up bootstraps and get dance-ready again. And with Peace's help/participation, I'm slamming myself back into a disciplined bootcamp thing. I need to do this for me and for my spirit...gotta be happy, y'know?

Well, mebbe not THIS happy. But close.

I'll be sharing as much of this journey as my pride will allow. You know us felines. We're a proud bunch. We don't like for folx to see us fall on our faces-- even though when we do, we get up and act like it never happened and totes ignore those who maliciously point it out.

Whoopsie. And recovery!

We'd rather show you all the times we land on our feet with grace. But I believe grace is also showing vulnerability as well--divine grace. What better reason, I ask you?
It's going to take some time, but I hope to be back to fighting form in a few months at the least with the plan I have for myself. The body doesn't forget...even though there's folx out there who think  mine has and I won't or I can't do this (::cough:: FXCK OFF!::cough::).

Okay... even better when Prince sez it.

So, GNOtaku--keep your eyes on my YouTube channel to see me fall on my face get my kitteh shake on...if you wanna!

*reference to this...of course!

Cat's Jumping Out Of The Bag--Again

I was up waaaaayyyy too early yesterday morning and bumped into the rest of that Twitter media explosion about Iggy Azalea, Azealia Banks, Solange, Q-Tip, T.I., and God-knows-who-else. Somewhere in there I saw a barrage of tweets regarding Iggy failing to properly freestyle. Some of these gave me a good giggle:

Reporter: Iggy, freestyle for us Iggy: OK Iggy: SomeBODY once told me the world was gonna roll me, I ain’t the sharpest tool in the shed, sh
— patrick (@pattymo) December 29, 2014

"iggy, freestyle for us!" Iggy: "lol ok" Iggy: Iggy Iggy Bo Biggy, Banna fanna fo Figgy, Fee Fy Fo Miggy, Iggy!
— Dory (@Dory) December 29, 2014

INTERVIEWER: IGGY FREESTYLE FOR US! IGGY: https://t.co/PlJBwmZdR3
— The Kid Mero (@THEKIDMERO) December 28, 2014

(Sorry about the Vine link. It went missing. This is what was there [start at :05]:)

I couldn't. I just couldn't. That last one had me lying on the floor with a lily in my hands.

But I also saw a lot of people calling for Iggy to go up against the likes of Azealia, Minaj, et al, in a head-to-head freestyle battle. The general consensus is that Iggy would go down in flames and it'd all end in tears. Don't shoot the messenger. Google it yourself; search Twitter.

"How does she call herself a rapper and don't even freestyle?" more than one wondered.

And this was me:

(Had to actually make this one, cuz it didn't exist till now!)

Hol' up. Uh-oh.
Well, to be honest, this has been at the back of my mind for years...in fact, I think I even said something about it on my website:

Yup. I did.

I am, and always have been, a rapper who exclusively writes. I have always also been transparent about that fact. It has never been my strong suit. I have a few reasons for why I don't, too.

First off...that's not how I learned. I was always under the impression that you wrote lyrics. Like, on paper. With a pen. That's ALL I ever did. So I'm really not accustomed to off-the-top-of-my-headness, really. I know that I can come up with rhyming words, yes, but I kind of... construct lines as opposed to just going, "Blah". This is not to say that people who can and do freestyle aren't constructing lines; it's just in a different way that I didn't learn.

Which brings me to the next thing. I don't have that seemingly effortless mind-to-mouth connect flow. My mind goes waaayyyy faster than my mouth (damned Virgo). So by the time I get anything out, I'm fxcked already. Oh sure, I can prolly come up with plenty of words, but getting them out in a flow off the top of my nekomimi?

Yep. Nope.

There is also the issue of the rhyme actually making some kind of sense. I have seen freestylers do that and come out sounding like they wrote it, but not always successfully. I need for my words to loop, ebb, flow and do interesting shxt. I'm doing incantations sometimes, LOL. It requires ink and paper. I'll say the line first, then write it down. That's all there is to it.

I never really saw the point of battling--as far as me. I wasn't about slugging it out verbally to gain dominion. I just wanted to be a part of the experience-- of the culture. It spoke to me at a very young age. It had already infiltrated my immediate family via my cousins, who had a dance troupe, and it seemed that everything they did (in Newark, anyway) eventually was adopted by other dancers who were inspired by them. Since I bloody well wasn't gonna ask them to teach me to dance, little rhythmless Gatita just watched from the sidelines. And once I knew most of the songs they had played, I knew I was gonna go in that direction--be an MC. It was challenging for me.
I come from a songwriting background. 'Nuff said.

In spite of the fact that I don't freestyle, I still craft bars. I've dropped some bombs--and I'm not saying this to sound like I'm the be-all end-all--people have literally said I dropped them. And it is very humbling to find out that people who I thought didn't like me much, actually had the utmost respect for my "lyricism", as they put it.

I'm not gonna say ”I can't”, because that's limiting. I say ”I don't”, because that much is true. But this issue coming up--again-- sometimes does have the insecure side of me kinda doubting myself, TBH. Questioning if I'd be considered a ”real” rapper/MC. And does that really matter, in the grand scheme of things? ::shrugs::

I can only guess it depends on your own perspective. I saw someone say that Iggy not being able to freestyle is like a singer saying they can't sing.

Uhm...what?

Bruh. Singers...usually end up having to sing LYRICS. That were WRITTEN. WITH A PEN (or MasterWriter or what have you). And sometimes, BY SOMEBODY ELSE. Not a great argument; buh-bye.

I think that if you are indeed a rapper/MC by vocation, balls deep in the culture, and you can execute the words you wrote with a sick flow, and blow at least most of the room away (you always gonna have a few haters), you ARE a real MC. I can and have done those things, but art usually requires tools. Painters need brushes (or spray cans...see what I did there?) and "canvas" (wall, face, actual canvas) to paint, bakers need pans and a mixer to bake, contractors need tools to build...I need a pen and paper...and, of course, my brain.

That's my (TRUE) tale...and I'm sticking to it, mane.

And walking off just like this.

I've Been Putting This Off...

Not sure why. But I know I have been meaning to do it despite its personal subject matter. So get comfy, grab a coffee or something, cuz it's that kinda story.

I think a few posts back I mentioned that I'd lost a family member to cancer. Since then, I have lost some more family members to cancer, and last summer I found out that my eldest's sire is also being stalked by the beast, and that a few people in my working circle have either had scares or have also lost loved ones to this monster. It seemed inevitable that I might be in those ranks myself. Mind you; I wasn't being pessimistic--I was simply looking at it from an odds POV.

Let me tell you a bit about a personal slice of Past-Life:
When I was a teenager, I was sexually assaulted. Because of where I was at the time, it happened nearly nightly (give or take a night or two) for approximately a month. It is a long story I will not get into here, but I will say that it left me with a few parting gifts. ::severely sarcastic font on:: One of these gifts kept on giving, and its name was human papilloma virus.

It showed up as a blemish/wart on my cervix, which was biopsied, and then not explained to me nor was it heard from for years. I didn't even know it had a name--they made it sound like the simplest thing; they cut it off and poof-! Gone. It showed up again years later-- wart-on-cervix, biopsied, but that time the doctor I was seeing was kind enough to explain what it was. I was mortified...but then I remembered the term for the method they used to take the biopsy, and I had only ever heard the word once before in my life: when I had the first biopsy. It was "colposcopy". I put two and two together and asked, "So is it possible I've had it all this time?"
"Yes," doc said. "It could have lain dormant all this time."

 Didn't help me feel better. I was still mortified...but the doctor then reassured me that HPV was, in fact, so common, and there were so many strains of it, that eighty percent of the population have it, and/or probably will get it once in their lifetimes.
Eighty. Percent.
WTF.
Still didn't help me feel any better, LOL.

So, again, I didn't give it any more thought, save for me being responsible enough to tell past and current partners, even though it may not have been necessary (I was quite careful, and not all strains stick around). I figured radical acceptance was the way to go. It was what it was.

Last year around Yuletide, I got the news that I had an abnormal Pap, I would need yet another colposcopy-- which I got-- and when the results came back...I wasn't happy.

There are low-risk strains and high-risk strains of HPV. It turned out that I had a high-risk strain of HPV that is known to cause cancer, and that I was in what they called CIN 1 or mild cervical dysplasia. Also, LGSIL. Why this shxt has so many names is beyond me, but they all mean "Hey, you have abnormal and possibly precancerous cells on your cervix. You should prolly get that taken care of."

The doctor sat me down and explained what my options were. They sent the biopsy out for further study to see if I would need a surgical option. There were a few methods of killing the abnormal cells, and I had all of the ones he performed laid out before me. After much freaking out, I did what I do best: I researched the fxck out of things and armed myself with information. And the things I found weren't pretty, but they were supposed to save my life.

It turned out that the cells were abnormal enough to warrant a procedure called a LEEP conisation. That is a link to a description, but if you're feeling brave, go look it up on YouTube. I did. I had to know what was going to happen.

Hoo, buddy. I didn't see how a cervix could ever be normal again after that. I was scared and upset, but I knew it had to be done. I have cubs and a loving partner who need me.

My family was concerned--especially my Mami, who had tangled with cervical cancer herself so she was really, really worried. So was I, of course, but I just accepted it. It was what it was, and rather than crawl in a hole and wait for it to turn into thirty different things, I was going to do something about it.

I had the procedure earlier this year, and willed myself to heal. I had a follow-up shortly after, and was told they got all the abnormal cells and that I was healing nicely. I was told to come back for a follow-up Pap in a few months.
I recently had said Pap and am waiting for the results. The doctor did say to me that my cervix looked pretty good, so paws crossed.

I'm sharing this because I want you all, GNOtaku, to be careful. Back then, the vaccine for this didn't exist yet, and even now there is some debate as to whether or not it is effective or even safe for young people to have. The best course of action if you are already sexually active is to make sure you get an annual Pap smear, ladies, to stay on top of it. Guys, talk to your sexual partners ( as of this date there is no approved test for HPV "status" but there are tests to screen for cervical cancer in women 30 years and older), and everyone stay wrapped up. It's the responsibility of BOTH partners to bring and use condoms. The ultimate defense is to not have sex at all. In my case, unfortunately, I didn't have a choice or say in the matter.

HPV is sneaky in that most people don't even know they have it because there are no symptoms. Some might not know until they get genital warts or until other complications arise from it.

Read this and get the facts about it. Make sure you stay safe out there. Do your research about the vaccine and see if you are eligible to get it and if it is right for you. I'm not advocating the vaccine, but I'm not condemning it either. Find the best option for you.

I'm feeling pretty positive about my chances. I know that it is something I need to make sure I stay on top of if I want to stay healthy. I am making changes in my diet and lifestyle to ensure that I am less likely to have a problem down the road. I'm positive I'm going to be just fine.

Stay safe.

Black Girls are Easy...

... evidently--to mistake for one another.
Especially if we're "weird"or "alternative".
Someone said I "looked exactly like [Tamara of] I Puke Glamour" and then snarkily added "Hmmmmm", regarding my assertion to accept no imitations (which really was a disclaimer for people to distinguish me from a particular... person).

C'mon, dude. I mean, I'm how much darker than she--?
 It got me thinking, though, about how when black girls have coloured hair, awesome, unusual clothes, and express themselves in a different way than what is expected, suddenly we're all Lil Kim or Nicki Minaj, or George Clinton-- anyone but who we actually are. Or we're intentionally twinning ourselves if we have similar hair. In my case, I do actually have a fax, but I've only ever been influenced by what I see.

It's unfortunate, but no other race accuses each other of "trying to be like (fill in the blank)" or "the fake (fill in the blank)"more than black people. I mean, c'mon: non-black girls wear synthetic dreads and straight fringe in all the colours of the fxcking rainbow all the time, and they don't get accused of trying to be, say, Kerli, or Machine Sex or Lady Gaga or whatever. I do it, and I'm suddenly Bitchface/Tamara/I Puke Glamour, I'm Yo-Yo Suicide, and the people I mentioned above--Minaj, Kim, and Uncle George (who, by the way, doesn't have the coloured hair anymore, so I say this to you: :oP). I have big "normie" hair, then I'm Tina Turner, Chaka Khan, Patti Labelle.

Seriously?
Is that really the best we can manage, in lieu of just taking me as I look--does everything have to be identified with someone famous? Last I checked, my name was GATA, not any of the above. Nor am I "George Clinton's wife/granddaughter/whatever".
Yes, that actually happened. More than once, and once from a band on stage performing at the time.
There is a huge difference between imitating and being influenced.
I've been influenced by people from the eighties like Cyndi Lauper, Jody Watley, Eighties Prince and Eighties Madonna (important to say "eighties" because they reinvent themselves so often), hip-hop culture, geek culture, movies, books, subcultures, video games, Japanese street style, mangas, comics, and God knows what else. I'm one of those people who throw stuff together, make it coordinate somehow, and hope it sticks. For as long as I've been able to choose my own clothes, I've been that type. I always expressed myself through my gear, long before Minaj, Gaga, Kim. I used to colour streaks in my hair with eyeshadow and rip up my stockings, cut my tees, slaughter my pants, shop at thrift stores. I was making jewelry out of baby shower favours, doll furniture, and discarded pieces of other jewelry (waste not, want not). I would find a place between eclectic and "me", and that's where I was comfortable.
This always got reactions like this

Or this

Or this

And a lot of this.

Once in awhile it was strange, but nice, to get this...

I still get these reactions. I pretty much expect it. It's one of the perks of being meows truly.

Anyways...
Unless someone is doing this

to their fellow so-called "weird", "alternative" black chyck, or doing everything like this

constantly (::ahem::) , then I don't see how we're all running around trying to be like each other (or celebrities). It must be some odd offshoot of "(fill in the blank) people all look alike". Generalizations; blanket statements. Ignorance. Indifference. Not thinking.
It would be nice to wake up one day and live in a world where this doesn't happen. Where I don't get, "Who you s'posed to be?" Me, duh. I can't be anyone but me, a living mash-up of stuff I really like. And I do it organically. It's something that can't be helped, I'm afraid.
Try and see each person for who they are, rather than think they're just cloning someone else.
Unless, of course, they actually are--and it's blatantly obvious.
Knock yourself out, then, LOL.

The Past Few Months; Realisations, A Decision

Yeh, I know. Where you been, bxtch? I'm tardy. Apologies, GNOtaku. I really do GAF about you guys...I didn't forget you!

It has been a REALLY difficult past few months. I kinda fell into a depression. And there are a myriad of reasons for that.

For starters, my mami's sister, my Aunt Caroline, had been ailing for months, and I wasn't aware of the seriousness of it. Because of the stigma attached to me due to stuff that went on in my past-life (pre-rebirth), I had kept a bit of arm's length between me and most of my immediate families on both maternal and paternal sides. I had talked to my aunt at intervals--she would call me or I would call her on our birthday, August 24th, and shoot the shxt. Or she'd call just for no apparent reason. Which was okay. I just couldn't be sure...well, let's us just say I couldn't be sure what condition she'd be in when we talked.

She'd been diagnosed with cancer before, and had had surgery, and they got it, as far as I knew. But more recently, she'd fallen ill with some sort of bug that made it impossible for her to eat for at least a month. She was admitted to hospital. At some point she was in a coma and had stopped breathing. A surgeon was called in, but she refused to operate, because nothing could be done. From what I understand, the pictures of my aunt's stomach were a mess. She had a lot of internal bleeding. At one point, she did actually wake up (I'm sorry; I'm all over the place), and was talking, and basically freaked everyone out because a few days prior, she'd been intubated and wasn't allowed to talk. She was very weak and doing poorly. When she woke up and started talking and eating, we thought she was on the mend. But that didn't happen...

Soon after, she passed away. I was in the room when it happened. My cousins and my mami say she'd already gone, but...that just isn't true. She was still there. I could feel her...and then she was gone.

The funeral planning was a special kind of chaos, but I'm not going to go into that. I will say this, though: GET A FXCKING ADVANCE DIRECTIVE. Like, RIGHT NOW.

So, that was one thing. At the same time my aunt was in hospital, my father was also admitted to hospital. He'd fallen ill, couldn't keep anything down, got really dehydrated. He ended up staying, and it turned out he had a blood clot. Which wasn't good because my dad had a stroke back in 2007 and spent time in rehab due to it. (Just remembered: the same thing happened to my aunt around the same time. UGH.) I was genuinely worried and sooo very frightened. My baby brother flew home from GA to be here. And fortunately, he recovered. He's back home and doing great. In fact, the day he was released, we ended up recording that night, LOL.

My dad is pretty hardy. I'm so grateful he recovered because that could have been so much worse...

What else? Let's see...

So, the weekend we worked on the rough of a song that ended up being called "Thirsty", I went over to Darkroom to re-record some vocals. My eldest brother happened to be there with my dad's sister: my Aunt Joanie, and my grandmother. (She's pretty hardy herself, BTW. At 96, she's still getting around and everything.) When I got there, they were getting ready to leave. I knew I had to brace myself for being called the past-life name. I was ready for that, but not ready for what followed. This was my Facebook status about it:

"My 96-yrs old grandmother totally got me.
'You look good,' she said. 
'Thank you, Grandma,' I said.
"She reaches out and touches my waist. 'Maybe you'll lose some of this,' she sez. 
"In. Front. Of. EVERYBODY! My dad, two brothers, aunt, and stepmom.
"I'm all ::urk::
" 'Someday,' was all I could manage.
” 'Someday,' she repeats.
"Mor. Ti. Fied.
My stepmom, bless her, takes the spotlight off me by going, 'Join the group.'
::goes to apply cold water to burned area and then to a corner to die::"

OMGGGGGGGG what a fxcking nightmare. I love my grandmother but she totally set me up! Complemented me and then shot me right the hell down, LOL. But Sag people tend to say things like that: "Y'know, you look good in vertical stripes. They totally make your thighs look smaller." They call it Foot-In-Mouth Disorder. ::shakes head::

Anyways, this came in a month of people critcising me about my weight, saying stuff like, "Why make it harder on yourself" by having all this weight, and the like. Like I could just one day get up and suddenly go, "Extra poundage, begone! Poof! Ta-daaaaaah!"  All of it was somewhat hurtful.
Okay, all of it was VERY hurtful. It came behind me posting a Throwback Thursday picture of myself when I was 150--which people still considered obese.

It led me to a realisation that, no matter WTF I do, I am still going to be considered obese/fat/chubby to someone. Radical acceptance!

I have a lot of issues there. Growing up, I was called ”cow”, ”pig”, ”chubby”, ”pregnant”, ”side of beef”, ”slab of bacon”...you get the idea. I was always told to hold my stomach in, tuck my butt under. I would sit on chairs with my legs raised to make them look less big because I always got teased about my thighs by my family and classmates. Eventually--and unconsciously-- I developed an eating disorder. Then, I was criticised--and by some of the same family members--for being too skinny. It was like, "MAKE UP YOUR FXCKING MIND!"

Yet, I have always struggled with it. At every weight I have been, someone was always calling me fat. My weight has been up and down, for one reason or another. Medication, lack of activity; ephedra, inability to eat, more activity. I can't even count calories because it brings up all that shxt from before, and I might think, "Oh, it would be so much easier to start back on the ipecac syrup", but that is not what I want. I am at a weight right now that I do not like, and I'm trying to do something about it, but it seems to never be enough for my critics.

They don't realise that all their comments--however well-meaning they may be--do nothing but set me back and impede my progress. It negates all the work I've done on myself in my head. Why that is, I'm not sure. I just know that certain things get stuck in my head and they don't fuel me to do something--the fat-shaming and the naysaying-- they have the opposite effect: they just shut me down. That kind of stuff never worked with me. I guess that's one thing from the past-life I have carried over that I still need to work on. And I am.

I've been debating vlogging about what I'm about to say next. I believe in being transparent with you guys. I mean, not everything is always good at Tha Cat Lair. I tend to Facebook-status my venting about what's wrong more than blog or tweet on it.

A couple of years ago, 3 Miles and I got into an agreement with a distribution label and LSS, signed away the rights to GATA City for two years. Big. Mistake. I wish we had never done it, I wish I had listened to my intuition, and I wish I didn't sign the contract during Mercury Retrograde. Basically, we signed a contract to keep doing what we'd ALREADY been attempting to do on our own, except someone else owns the rights and/or makes money from it. Imagine having to ask for permission to post your own fxcking music! Imagine copyright claims being thrown at you from every platform your music was already posted on before you even signed the agreement! Uber frustrating. I cannot promote myself properly if I am being restricted. Can't enter comps or anything like that because, since I am signed to two small labels, essentially, it is usually against the rules. The label is suffering financial setbacks due to us being swindled not once, but several times by different people we thought we could trust, and due to that we couldn't promote effectively or frequently. It is a clusterfxck of immense proportions. And meanwhile, we still have this unnecessary contract hanging over us. I still have the masters, but I am powerless for now.

Between this, and learning that my brother's laptop had been stolen, and along with it, the instrumental and raw tracks for GATA City (which were on an external drive) it seemed like the writing was on the wall. I made the decision to just back off for now with promoting that project until the agreement expires. I think I have an idea of how Prince must have felt. I'm not changing my name to no symbol, though.

We don't have much longer in the contract, but the project just seems to have taken on a weight of its own; it seems like my boulder I have to push uphill just to have it tumble down again. It's disheartening.

Also, in the process of all this turbulence, it hit me one day that I am Chief Operating Officer of 3 Miles Entertainment, and have been for the last two years. I didn't realise it even when my father (who is CEO) validated me for a decision I made regarding yet another struggle with the other label. "You did the right thing as an executive for 3 Miles Entertainment," he'd said. It took an article I was reading at the time to bring me to that realisation. I think that if I had done sooner, I would have made a different decision, put my foot down a little harder, and we wouldn't be in this mess.

So, the only time I will be doing anything with GATA City is the occasional performance. Which, at this time, doesn't seem likely as I am currently searching for someone to replace 3D, and I need to get into fighting shape again. (As I said, I've been in a depression. Which, incidentally, is also something I've struggled with for years.)

For the most part, GATA City is to me like an estranged child that I am not allowed to see very often. It hurts that I am so limited, but I have to push the hurt aside and start fresh, move on until we can be together again properly.

So, yeh...it's been hard. I am currently bent on making something new and doing more of it my way. I am having to come from another place with my projects. I think the universe is telling me to back up and regroup. I have to start over...

I think I'll be fine. We'll be fine. Once everything is sorted, and we get more people who GAF about our vision in our corner instead of using us as stepping stones to further their careers, we'll be golden and our run will be salvaged.

On Being "Tawdry" and "Offputting"...

I got a review once from The Daily Vault that resulted in an A- (not too shabby). To this day, I think the reviewer was the only one who really got me musically, and I was SO happy and relieved about that, even though my brother wasn't as appreciative of what was said about the production of GATA City. (TBH, I don't think it sounded as "homegrown" as we were told in the article.) I think this will be remedied in future projects; but we've heard quite a few favourable comments from others (including, but not limited to people in radio) about the production, so I just chalk it up to "this shxt ain't for everybody". I mean, considering what passes for "the sound" nowadays... if this is what is considered "chique", then, I'll stay sounding "homespun", thank you very much, LOL.

The review also said this:

An integral part of [Tha]Gata Negrra’s image is her weirdness, which can seem a bit tawdry and offputting. Her music, however, is anything but. Gata Negrra might like to be... an anime character that wears gaudy clothes and makeup, but GATA City is an ordinary mainstream pop album – an enjoyable and a great mainstream pop album.
Huh. Okay.
I'm guessing the reviewer has never been to Japan. Or watched an anime. I could be wrong.
At the time, I wasn't quite offended; I've been getting that "OMG whatthehellisthat" reaction all my life, so it isn't new to me. I did bristle a bit at "tawdry" and "gaudy", which are usually pretty negative words:

taw·dry- adjective \ˈtȯ-drē, ˈtä-\ : cheap and gaudy in appearance or quality; also : ignoble <a tawdry attempt to smear his opponent> noun: cheap showy finery


gau·dy-  adjective \ˈgȯ-dē, ˈgä-\
1: ostentatiously or tastelessly ornamented
2: marked by extravagance or sometimes tasteless showiness : outlandish <gaudy lies> <gaudy claims>;
also :exceptional <a gaudy batting average>
Note that "gaudy" is actually used as a synonym for "tawdry".
Those words are just more shorthand for "We don't get it". Or, "We can't wrap our eyes around it. It's too much."
Okay. I'll buy that for a dollar. Like I said: it's nada new.
I was talking with someone I know who works for a prominent indie label and, in general, likes my look/brand, and he likened me to a fire hose...in that, when the audience comes to drink, instead of giving them a water fountain trickle, I visually give them a faceful of high-jet water. I thought it was funny, actually. And not por nada: it's kind of the point.
The odd bit is that this guy, who I respect and admire immensely and love him to death, actually suggested that I strip down--like a LOT--and give you guys the full-jet later (and yet, he loves and promotes people like Kerli, Lady Gaga, and Nicki Minaj and Madonna). I didn't immediately object--I mean, this guy is who he is for a reason-- but it would be, I dunno, untrue to me. I don't like giving people the untruth. I want to give you the full truth. I don't mean truth as in shedding all of the clothes and barrettes and adornments. Those are just amplification. I mean, if everyone wanted truth, we'd all be running around naked, no?
I mean full truth as in giving you the whole ThaGataNegrra experience. And that is what people come to see me for. You didn't come to see me sans synthlox extensions, sans clothes, sans the..."explosive" version of me. You didn't come to see me be "normal". You weren't attracted to me because I'm freaking "normal".

You came because you saw me flying my freak flag, didn't you?

You came because you saw that it isn't some chyck making play she's so unusual (yes, that is indeed an intentional Cyndi Lauper reference) like some artists you might see out there...you saw that it is coming from a place where genuine "weirdness" is rampant. You've either visited that place or wanted to visit that place, or wanted to know what that place looked like before you went there.
That's what I represent.
And if I came to you with my natural coily hair as it is now, in blue jeans and a fxcking plain black t-shirt and tried to sell you the Meowness, you. Would. Not. Buy it. Period.

I will say that when I was younger, all the way up to where I am now, I have expressed myself differently than that of my peers, even if I had on the same outfit (or elements of the same outfit), I must have carried it differently than they. I've seen people look at old pics of me and say, "You didn't look weird at all!" No, not to them in the picture. But, if you were walking down street with me at the time it was taken, in that outfit, you'd have heard a whole bunch of taunts thrown at me. I never got that. Still don't. But it is what it is.
Back then, it was: "THIS bxtch..." now it's: "THIS bxtch is walking through the supermarket with ma-fxckin' CAT ears on."
I do that because it's true for me now. That--walking through the supermarket with ma-fxckin' cat ears on-- is. MY. TRUTH. And I would be less than respectful of me-- of you, even-- if I didn't do that.
I just took a course that advised the very thing that I am already doing. I was pleasantly surprised to hear this. And I'm proud of the fact that I've already got "it". One less thing for me to learn.

I was recently reminded that for some reason Cyndi Lauper was a big influence on me. That I loved the look that Prince and all his proteges touted in the Revolution and New Power Generation eras. That it was all about shell-toe Adidas. That I wanted violet and white hair. That I had an affinity for and with cats. That I used to want to be like the characters from Battle of the Planets/Gatchaman. That I was a lot like Yuri from The Dirty Pair (Adam Warren version). That I once got teased for looking like "a reject from the X-Men" (which I thought was so funny...).
It certainly explains a lot about me.

If you notice the last part of the definition for gaudy, it says: "exceptional".
"EX-CEP-TION-AL".

ex·cep·tion·al (ikˈsepSHənəl)adj.
1. Being an exception; uncommon.
2. Well above average; extraordinary: an exceptional memory.
3. Deviating widely from a norm.
I can take that.

So, when I got the link to the review from The Daily Vault, it was accompanied by an email from the writer. In it, he expressed the fact that he loved what I was doing, to keep up the good work, and signed it, "Your fan from Canada".

In the end...still expressed being a fan. I was humbled.

That is what being true to who you are can get you. It takes longer, but it's worth it.