Honesty and Authenticity

I've been struggling with the blog since it came back. I'm not even going to lie. Trying to get a schedule together for all of the "themed" posts I have planned, getting photos taken, finding the time and inspiration to write. I'm not saying I've lost my passion; not at all. I think about this blog 24/7. I love it. I want it to blow up. I want it to be the punkrawk Goop. But, Gwenyth Paltrow has a team of minions and millions; and I'm "blogging on a budget" outside of my full time job. Poor me. I didn't mean for this to turn into a pity party. I'm just saying; it isn't easy. Anyone else who has a passion job knows they aren't easy. And I've been struggling. I found the time to sit down this weekend and re-work the schedule in a way that makes sense to me. I did a bombass photo shoot two weekends ago; and I'm brainstorming so I can book my next one soon and be AHEAD of my own curve. 

I've also struggled with what to post and how to post it. How honest should I be? What should I write about and what should I keep to myself? The post I wrote last week glossed over a few things; I left out the hours long crying jag I had to Zayn Malik's newest single the day before, because of...reasons. I mean, authenticity is my brand...BUT...I'm really weird and embarrassing. What do I reveal and when? This isn't just something I worry about with blogging; it's something that haunts me in "real" life all of the time. I'm a naturally honest and blunt person.  It's something I'm known for. I'm opinionated and loud and brash. It's been my thing since high school. In fact, over Memorial Day weekend I ran into an old classmate who said I was the "loud" one in our school days. While I like to think I've gained a better sense of discernment in the past ten years and am a bit more chill; I still stand for being honest. It's hardcoded into who I am. My mother raised me to mean "yes" when I say "yes, to mean "no" when I say "no", and to stand behind my words and actions. That said, there's a difference between lying and just choosing what you say to whom and when. One that I have a hard time with.

I've stated before this blog is going to be reflection and deconstruction of my life; and I suppose that means the ugly parts too. One of my biggest gripes with social media is that it lets people pick and choose and only play their highlight reel; leaving the rest of us to compare and judge a false image and come to bad conclusions. That's not what this blog is. At least, it shouldn't be. While I miss my live journal, and my older days on Tumblr (I've been Tumblin' since 2011 and boy oh boy, were there some old scorchers on there that told waaaaayyyy too much of my business); I don't think I need to expose all of my dirty laundry here. However; there are certain topics that I'd like to speak about, that if I told the whole story, exactly as it happens...well, there are some people who I frankly wouldn't want reading it. BUT. One of my best posts told the truth of the story, made me feel vulnerable and exposed in a way I never had before on this blog, and helped other people. And my biggest motivation for writing beyond the personal growth and healing it brings me, is for the growth and healing of others. It's a very clever balancing out I've got play here; a fine tight rope walk. Perhaps that's another reason I've got a high rope walker tattooed on my arm; it's a theme in my life. 

This isn't what I sat down to write and post, but it's what was on my mind and in my heart. So here it is. 

Until next time. Covfefe. xo.


Welcome Back, Babes.

I originally meant to take six weeks “off” from the blog. It wasn’t really meant to be time “off”. It was time for the site to go dark, so I could create this new layout, take more photos (i never ever have enough photos — I need an Instagram husband), do more research and learning about successful blogging and social media marketing, and spend a lot of time hunkered down and writing. It didn’t really play out like that. It’s been 12 weeks. We’re approximately 120 days into the year (depending on which day I actually publish this and let the new design go live). It’s been an interesting 120 days, but I don’t think I have to tell you that. I’m sure you’re feeling it yourself. Everyone I know has been out of sorts lately. That’s really why the blog has been on hiatus for the “extra” 6 weeks. 

I really haven’t been feeling like myself lately. I’m shedding. Molting. Turning into a new person, or a better improved version of who I’ve always been? I’m putting wordy spin on the fact that I’ve been in more shitty moods than good ones and have been confused by life recently. More often then not I’ve looked in the mirror and wondered, who the hell is that looking back at me and do I like her? The answer is, yes. I think I like her. Who is she, though?

I’ve never properly introduced myself on the blog, so I suppose our “relaunch” is as good of a time as any. I’m A Jordan Lambert. Named after my mother and my grandfather, who are incidentally two of my favorite people to ever live. I’ll be 29 in about six weeks. I’m at the very end of my twenties, and instead of being freaked the fuck out, I’m inspired about what comes next. As I get closer to the end of my twenties, the more I find myself thinking about “my inner child” and who I was and what I wanted as a kid. I think I’ve got a good read on myself and who I am and have stayed true to my course. That’s pretty exciting and inspiring. I grew up in San Pedro, California, but all of Southern California is my playground. I spend more time in LA proper and Orange County than I do in San Pedro. I’ve moved away from that godforsaken town once; to go to my small liberal arts college and then I came back, because it was best for me and my family at the time. I’ve got to get out again, soon. San Pedro makes me itchy. It’s got a small town mentality and that’s not my frame of mind at all. I’m very much a “city girl”. I love museums, shopping, theme parks, concerts, craft beer, artisan sandwiches, driving over the speed limit late at night, going out dancing, learning new things, traveling; all of those posh trivial, yet meaningful things that turn into perfect moments for Instagram and Pinterest. Someone recently asked me what I was inspired in by; I told them Los Angeles, art in all of it’s forms, and the people I love. 

So why the hell do I have a blog? Who do I think I am exactly? I love to write. It’s the only thing I’ve ever consistently loved in my life. I make a rather decent living writing in the marketing department for a brand that I’ve admired and respected since I was a pre-teen. It’s the most fulfilling “job” I’ve ever had, but I still have more to say. This blog is really about me. I’m vain and self-centered. I can freely admit that. I’ve been writing about myself online for over a decade; Livejournal, anyone? However, I aim to make this more than that. I’ve said before, I want this website to be a lifestyle destination for women who are more Hayley Williams/Lyn-Z Way than Lauren Conrad/Gwyneth Paltrow. I’m opinionated as fuck, always on the go, busy and weird and crazy, and I also have good fucking taste. Beauty, fashion, interior design, music and art, food, fandom culture, live experiences, travel…There’s going to be a little of everything here. My personal style is a bit more grunge/goth than anything else, but there’s certainly some boho inspiration in there and I love high fashion. Makeup and wigs are basically my favorite thing ever, and you’ll never catch me without either one on. The best place to catch me? At a show, a theme park, or trying to find my next trendy hand crafted meal. This blog is going to be a record of those things; my life, however it’s also going to be about you. Deconstructing my life, my view, for you. 

I’ve got a lot of new and fun things planned for this space; and I’ve actually got a scheduled calendar now. I can’t wait to see what we do around here. 



It's summer of 2012. Frank Ocean's Channel Orange has just dropped. My fruit stand fam and I are obsessed. It's on repeat every single day in the back room. Four years later and we're still down with each other and still Frank Ocean obsessed. Frank Ocean was asked to explain his current situation to his past self. And then my fruit stand fam started doing it. And it's been a trip. It makes you truly see how far you've come. It's funny to have watched each other glo' up, and to take that ride again.

So, without further ado...

Damn, Jordan of '11. You just started working at Apple a few months ago. You start grad school in a few weeks. A lot happens in between where you are then and who I am today. You love your job at Apple. You definitely get promoted to FRS, and before Christmas. It's a challenge, but you don't back down. I don't know how you do it, but you work a full time job (yeah, you get promoted to full time too), while taking a full load of grad school classes and you don't even have a car, so you're riding the bus every day. That doesn't last. You learn how to drive and get your license (it takes a few tries)! And you buy a brand new car without any help from anyone! That guy likes you back. You're going to find out that most of them do, they're just even more awkward than you are. I'm not going to tell you what happens with him, you just have to live it. Enjoy it. You finish grad school with honors (you have one shitty semester, but that's not notated on your degree so no one cares). Working at Apple helps you get over a lot of your shyness and you start singing in front of people more often. You even get a keytar! (It's a graduation present). You learn how to ride a bike AND how to swim, all during the same summer. You even get a little fitness obsessed. You have a gym membership. Weird, right? You drop a few dress sizes and can do ten pull ups at your strongest. You go, girl! You grow up a lot. A LOT. Lots of your friends get married and have babies. It's pretty cool. You aren't and you don't...yet. The people you meet at Apple are going to be some of the best people you've ever met; lifelong friends. You learn a lot about yourself, and relationships.  You have the coolest group of girlfriends you cosplay with! You're the healthiest you've ever been; mentally, emotionally, and physically. Turning 25 isn't as scary as you make it out to be. In fact, at 28 you're the best you've ever been. You leave Apple after four years, so you don't get the plaque, but it's for the best. You actually start a blog. You're not internet famous, but you have over 1k twitter followers. Cool, right? Hey, remember how you were kind of a hipster in 2011? Of course you do. Well, that doesn't last. You're scene AF again. So scene, you work at Hot Topic HQ now. Talk about a lifelong dream. You go to a lot of shows, your Disneyland pass doesn't expire, you get more tattoos, more piercings, and you're actually...happy. Weird, right? Hang in there, kid. (PS. lay off the beer and don't dye your hair blonde). 

It's 2011 me, and Frank's letter.

Rock on.

Good Grief


Grief is weird. It’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot recently. I’ve been putting off writing this particular blog for a while. Then Prince died and it was back on my mind again, so I think it’s time.

I started seeing my therapist because I was grieving. I didn’t know that at the time. I was going through the worst breakup of my life at the time. My grad school graduation was looming. I thought it was just a quarter life crisis. It was also grieving. Grieving for a future that wouldn’t be. Grieving for a person that I wasn’t anymore (partner, student). Grieving for a relationship that no longer was. I did a lot of purging through that grief. Mentally, emotionally. I wanted to be rid of that relationship and everything that came with it. I wanted to purge. I wanted to get rid of the memories. I wanted to get rid of the feelings. I wanted to get rid of the gifts. I wanted to get rid of everything. I had an emptiness in me that felt like it would only be satiated if everything in me was emtpy. So, I gave in. I purged. I let go. I got rid of clothing, I got rid of letters, I got of pictures, and text messages, and songs that reminded me of him. I got rid of bad habits and lost weight. I wanted to be like a water glass or an empty bowl. I purged.

When that relationship FINALLY ended, nearly a sixteen months after the intial break up (after not speaking, and trying to be friends, and not speaking, and trying to be friends, ad naseum) I dove headfirst into a new relationship. I thought I was ready. I wasn't. That ended too, nearly as quickly as it started. I purged again.

My grandma died last winter. I thought I'd want to purge. The day after my family was notified by the hospice, I rearranged my bedroom and cleaned my closet. Over six hefty bags went to the garbage. It didn't feel right. I didn't feel right until my mother came home with boxes of my grandmother's old things. I wanted her old jewelry, her old dresses, her old photos. I wanted to know things about her that I had missed. I wanted to know about my family. I wanted to eat. I wanted to listen to music. I wanted my days to be full of family and friends and events. I wanted to live in every moment. I wanted to be full.

I left my job shortly after she died, under unhappy circumstances. I grieved again. My fear of the unknown is potent. I don't do well with change.

I don't understand the differences between these types of grief, but I do. I didn't think about it, until a few weeks ago. I was three beers deep on the dance floor at Emo Nite LA, shaking it to AFI and Fall Out Boy in a new dress (I was and still am losing the weight I put on in my grief). It hit me as I looked around at my friends, to my favorite songs, that for the first time in nearly three years I wasn't grieving something. The purging grief for a future that won't come to pass. Empty and hollow. The bingeing grief for a past that has come to an abrupt end. Filling and sweet.

David Bowie and Prince have not been easy for me. Is that trite? Overstated? I don't care. I cried hard. It hurts. Truth be told, I spent more time with them throughtout my life than my grandmother. I've wanted to go back and listen to their whole discographies. Watch all of their videos. Share all of my memories with other fans.

Grief is weird. It's something that I've been thinking about a lot, but I will never claim to fully understand it.