I used to be a bald girl.

I used to be a bald girl but now that I have hair, well–I guess I’m pretty. 

Because bald girls have cancer or maybe they’re crazy.  They could be gay or even former dykes turned socialites who got famous for fucking Kanye West. 

Those crazy bald heads. 

Cuz see women are supposed to have hair on their skulls and none anywhere else.  For awhile I guess I had the rules backwards and people would call me “sir” when I was clearly wearing a dress. 

But I digress. 

I used to be a bald girl but now that I have hair, well–guys stare.

A Quickie

There are no coincidences in life.  Everything makes perfect sense and when you’re really in a zone you’ll draw what you need to you effortlessly.  It is truly amazing.  I’ve been here before and somehow lost it.  Now I’m back and I will not be moved.  I’ve relinquished the fear of loss and the need to own.  Nothing is mine to have.  It exists in my cypher until it doesn’t.  And when it doesn’t anymore, it’s gone and I trust that it’s gone for a reason.  I’m really just done making life difficult.  It’s a waste of my time and energy and I simply don’t care for the bullshit anymore.  If it doesn’t work, fix it.  If it can’t be fixed through legitimate effort, get rid of it.  That goes for jobs, people and electronic devices.

Hi, I’m Unemployed [Week Two]

I’ve spent this week in coffee shops immersed in the culture of the individual who works for themselves and/or freelances their profession.  Everyone is diligent, relaxed and in a generally good mood.  Writers, PR people, artistic types–they spend their days over cups of tea and lap tops making miracles happen.  And that’s what I’ve been doing as well.

I haven’t grossed so much as $50 since I left Power a week-and-a-half ago, and that $50 came out of nowhere, but I have irons in the fire and the time to get them nice and hot before I strike.  My first two sessions of the 2010 Semi-Pro Seminars are sold out and there is currently a waiting list.  I highly advise all artists, label owners and/or parents of aspiring stars take this seminar.  It is affordable and necessary.  I’ve talked a ton of shit about the undereducation of the music community–specifically the hip-hop community–but now I have the time and tools to spread the crucial knowledge needed to even begin to consider such a field.  The music business is not what it was ten or even five years ago.  The only way to win is to know what you’re signing up for and how to get the job done.

From time to time, the paranoia of not having a day job creeps into my mind.  I’ve gotten better at curbing my tendency to obsess myself into misery when I’m unsure about something.  I’ve forced myself to sleep in until 8:30am and to enjoy my new circumstances, rather than rush to band-aid the evaporating savings account with an easy fix.  I’ve been asked for radio airchecks from some sizable markets, but it’s not in me to send them just yet.  I need some time to decide if heading in that direction again is what I really want.  If the right situation were to manifest, I’d consider it.  Keyword–right.

I’m in a creative zone and I feel at ease.  Human beings are so much more resilient and capable than we give ourselves credit for.  It is really amazing what one person can do if they set their mind and good intention to it.  I believe in myself again.  And it is an incredible feeling.

I’m off to grab the keys to my new (and tiny) house.  Then I have three meetings to round out the rest of my day.  I’m doing what I love and trusting that it will all work out.  And it will.  It always does!

The Break’s Over!

It’s all a lie?

I’m a victim of the media monster I helped feed for so long.  Still too concerned with my looks.  Still check the mirror a few times too often.  To live and die on pore size and facial symmetry.  No one will write a radio song about that but Kanye West was mostly right in his.   We’re all self-conscious and I’m not the first to admit it.  Compulsively masking  away impurities with green clay and essential oils, hoping for a miracle.  The lady on the news–well her face doesn’t move–and while judging her vanity I try not to furrow my own brow lest I deepen impending frown lines.  You know how it is.  Youth is where it’s at.  We even shave our pussies to look like seven-year-olds and because they’ve told us the way we’re made naturally is dirty.  Cover up your smells with chemicals and perfumes.  Your pussy shouldn’t smell like pussy and your armpits shouldn’t smell like armpits and your feet shouldn’t smell like feet.  Forever young.  Forever 21.  Stunted adolescence like the Real Housewives of wherever and their slumber parties at age 47 with lofty goals of spending their husband’s money on Juviderm and looking younger than their teenage sons.  Maybe fucking their teenage son’s friends for fun.  What an ego boost it is to look a common college whore in your 50’s while haters mumble under their breath about that bitch needing to put some damn clothes on with her middle-aged silicone ass.  You’re not from Brazil, ho and neither is that implant that makes your hindquarters look odd in pants because God didn’t make you that way.  They tell us he didn’t do it right though.  You’re not supposed to get old and your crooked teeth are equivalent to a birth defect in your mind’s eye.  Your gray hair needs dye.  Your naps need lye.  The truth is–it’s all a lie.

2010 Semi-Pro Seminar [Project #1]

 

Thank you for your interest in the 2010 Semi-Pro Radio, Records & Revenue Seminar. 
 
The purpose of this seminar is to educate those interested in the music business on the latest changes and trends in the industry.  Vast shifts have occurred due to a new ratings system for radio and the effects of new technology on record labels.  These changes have altered the way radio is programmed and record label deals are constructed.  If you’re going to be a part of the music industry in any capacity, the key to your success or failure will be the level of education you obtain on the business side.  This seminar is a 30,000 foot view of what you’ll be dealing with as you venture out into the complex world of entertainment.
 
The fee for the seminar is $10 per person.  Cash only on the day of the event.  Please bring exact change.  Monies will be collected prior to the start of the seminar.  This will include an hour-long, interactive lecture with a final 30-minute Q & A at the end for any other discussion topics attendees are interested in covering.
 
The first round of seminars will be held Saturday, February 20th in Phoenix in the area of the Chinese Cultural Center (44th Street and the 202).  The exact address will be disseminated to those who officially register.
 
If you’d like to attend, please reply via email [karliehustle@gmail.com] with the following for each individual registering:
 
*First and last name
*Contact phone number
*Preferred time slot (choose noon-1:30pm or 2:30pm-4pm)
 
Space is limited.  There will be 10 people in each seminar maximum.  All participants must be registered prior to the day of the seminar.  No walk-ins allowed. 
 
Thank you again for your interest.  I look forward to hearing from you!

Hi, I’m Unemployed. [Week One]

So far, being unemployed is a total blast.  I feel at ease and my survival mode skills have kicked in.  I’ve secured two new sources of income in addition to my events business I share with M2.  Whatever I can do that I’m passionate about that will help stop the bleeding in my savings account is what I’m down for.  I’ve also looked into mentoring youth and will be participating in a program to do so that begins in May.

I’ve been working since I was 10.  I started babysitting and did yard work and office cleaning with my friends’ mothers.  My first “real job” was at 15.  I was the youngest employee at Kinko’s–everyone was at least twice my age, but I fit in nicely and learned that Kinko’s in Eugene was some kind of gay/lesbian mecca.  Most of the staff lived “alternative lifestyles”.  I think that’s where I began to feel comfortable with my own unorthodox sexuality.  But I digress.

In the past week, I’ve had lunches with old friends and collegues, received tons of texts, calls and emails from folks who think what I have done is simply amazing.  People who rarely give props were at me with accolades and for whatever reason, my move to leave radio on my own accord has inspired others.  It reminds me of what my good friend said the other day.  “Some people are just permission-givers,” she stated over dessert at Fez.  She didn’t mean it in a condescending way.  She meant that when people are bold or brave or different, they give other people the permission to be the same.  You can make a difference in someone else’s life and not. even. know. it.

Case in point:

Yesterday I was at lunch with an old friend.  I’ve known her for about seven or eight years.  I won’t get into details on how I know her so I can protect her anonymity, but I had no idea that about two or three months ago I changed her life.  After a few hours of talking over Bellinis at Oregano’s, she started to tear up and confessed that something I’d said to her in front of her boyfriend flipped the switch inside his head and he has since come to truly appreciate her like never before.  What I said isn’t important–I was simply giving her the props she deserved in his presence.  He saw how I reacted to her and ever since I’ve been somewhat of an inside joke between them.  Not in a bad way, of course.  But if she’s feeling bad about an outfit or her hair that day, he’ll simply say “remember Karlie”.

Can you believe that?

I dunno man.  I had no idea a compliment and enthusiastic greeting for someone I care about would have that kind of lasting effect on someone else’s life and relationship, but it just goes to show you–everything you do is powerful.  Don’t ever forget that.  A few words can change another person for life.

Colors are more vivid.  People more inspiring.  I notice things that I passed by before because my mind was always preoccupied with living someone else’s dream.  Maybe I’ve been listening to too much T.I., but I’m currently cocky enough to reveal that yesterdayI decided I’ll never work for someone else again on a 9 to 5 level.  Fuck your recession.  Fuck your corporation.  Fuck your layoffs.  I’m officially and unapologetically doing ME!

More soon.

Am I Crazy?

I’ve always marched to the beat of my own drum. I was born that way.  When I was growing up, I knew that there was something different about me and that I probably wouldn’t end up like my peers.  At seven-years old, I was already aware of the concept of my otherness. 

Before everyone starts thinking I’ve hit some sort of mid-life crisis in my early 30s, I figure I’ll explain a few things to give those who care a bit of clarification on my current thought process and decisions. 

From the outside looking in, folks have observed that I’ve sold a ton of my belongings at a recent yard sale  and that I’ve quit my job without having another to fall back on and no real clue as to what I’ll do next.  A concerned friend messaged me on facebook asking me if I was okay.

Is selling your prized possessions for pennies on the dollar in your front yard and quitting your job during the worst economy since God was a boy a “smart” idea?  Probably not.  But I’ve never been conventional. 

I began noticing some terrible things about myself around seven months ago and I’ve been disgusted with the mindstate I’ve allowed to control me.  I’ve finally realized in recent days that I’ve been paralyzed in fear for a few years and it’s been turning me into a robot who does things for a paycheck and not passion.  Someone like me does not function well in a passionless state.  I was eroding from the inside out, grasping onto the straws of an identity that was starting to become defined solely by my job.

If I’m not Karlie Hustle from Power 98.3, who am I?

I’ve never been a fan of getting caught up in fake stardom or my own hype.  It’s highly unattractive.  I’ve done my best to remain grounded in a business that encourages people to be cut-throat, arrogant, self-serving assholes.  I’d say I’ve done a pretty good job at staying human.

I used to jump from job to job and state to state in the blink of an eye with just enough stuff to fill the trunk of my car.  I’d quit gigs before I had the next one, just knowing I’d find something and things would work out.  And they always have.  As I’ve gotten a bit older, I’ve lost some of that spontaneity.  I’ve become too scared to make “crazy” decisions because of attachments to things, people and jobs.  That’s not a life I’m willing to lead.

My moving, selling my stuff and quitting my job all at once were not planned.  These things just happened.  The upheaval was organic and I welcome it.  I’m cool off the comfort zone and ready to hit the ground running.

Thank you for reading this and supporting me.  I will be throwing events, hosting events and getting involved in a lot of cool stuff while I’m out of radio.  Will I get back into radio?  Who knows.  Will I be staying in the valley?  Who knows.  I’ll leave that up to fate.  In the meantime, I’m enjoying the ride.

And the answer is yes.  I am crazy.

The Lie [A Short Story - Part 4]

Lisa never cared much for Italian broads, but Rosalie looked more Latina so she figured it would be okay as long as she waxed her lip and brows on a regular basis.  Lisa once ran an Italian girl who’d cut a six-inch slit in the fleshy part of her upper-right arm one night after they’d shared a bottle of Seagram’s gin.   From that evening forward, Lisa vowed to steer clear of gin, switchblades and Italian broads.  Not necessarily in that order.

She knew Rosalie would round the corner soon enough to take her up on her offer.  The girl was broke as a joke and it showed.  Plus Lisa knew she had a little one at the house she was attempting to raise on her limited resources.  Rosalie was like a female pimp’s dream come true.  Young.  Malleable.  Pretty.  Afraid of men.  The streets hadn’t gotten to her just yet, and Lisa was going to do her very best to get to her first.

Lisa started out in the business as a stripper over on the West side of town.  All the other girls at the club drank, smoke and did drugs but Lisa refused.  She was too money-motivated to let even a dime slip by her and she knew intoxicants would make her sloppy.  The only sober stripper on the West side, she wasn’t particularly pretty, but she managed to bilk more money out of those pathetic hard-legs than the finest drunk bitch in the establishment every shift.  She had a knack for the art of conversation and a clear mind was a terrible thing to waste.  And her clear mind made her a shit-ton of cash.

After she had worked at the gentleman’s club for a couple of years, she’d figured out the rules of engagement and decided to go into business for herself.  She knew about the side gigs that girls arranged for themselves to make extra dough and found them to be dangerous and generally mishandled.  She offered to set up appointments, supervise visits and essentially manage an informal escort service under the umbrella of the club and its clientele.  Eventually upper management noted suspicious behavior and Lisa was fired.  She then took an interpretation of that set-up to the street where she had worked for just over two years.

As Rosalie walked toward her down 10th in a pair of white jeans and a green halter, Lisa was ready.  The first order of business would be to convince her she was Cuban.

Find me here!