The Bread is Dead: A Review
First of all, do yourself a favour and read this column:
A friend sent to me this weekend, and in a moment of real, true serendipity it summed up my feelings from the past week, month, year, decade.
I too always dreamed of being an academic. I have a master’s degree in Religious Studies, my thesis on the need to open the Academic Study of Religion to the idea of improvisation and conversation, outside of its normal confines of the Social Scientific method. I even planned a course not too long ago on the relationship between Secular Music and Religion. I think a lot of you would have enjoyed it. While I never really had the interviews that the Sabrina Orah Mark had in “…The Bread is Over,” I can relate to the insane way of being in Academics, proving your worth, jumping through hoops that don’t exist, making it impossible for women to exist there. For instance, the first time I re-entered my department to “work” I was greeted with, “nice to see you, where have you been, what have you published in the 8 years you’ve been gone?” I replied with, "raising children,” and felt instantly like a marked woman, walking around with those brainless birthing hips.
I have been looking for the “perfect job” forever. The one that would give me the so-called respect I feel I deserve, but maybe didn’t get as a young student in High School. I longed to be an intellectual, to be admired for my deep thoughts, but I lived most of my young teen and adult life being thought of as flaky, silly, and goofy. I was the queen of non-sequitur (as my English teacher told me) I was a comedian by default, as a result of deflecting my inner-most feelings about myself. 11 years later, out of school and with severe baby brain, looking for “work” has been difficult, to say the least. I have sent out my resume to so many jobs, jobs beneath me, above me, at my level. I have toyed with starting my own business, leaving my business, and giving in completely to motherhood. I HAVE NOT RECEIVED ONE SINGLE RESPONSE. Not one. There is nothing more degrading than looking for work in a pandemic and not just any work, but your DREAM JOB. I want to feel something other than the fact that my passion project of being a full-time vocalist has been undeniably delayed for GOD KNOWS HOW LONG, and know with certainty that I have my fall-back plan to fall back on.
HA.
What has meaning now then, if “the bread is over?”
“What does it mean to be worth something? Or worth enough? Or worthless? What does it mean to earn a living? What does it mean to be hired? What does it mean to be let go?
”
My answer?
Relationships. Connection. Touch.
The weight that is slowly coming off my shoulders from this lack of expectations is like air I’ve never breathed before. Like a flower I have never smelled. Like food that is yet to be tasted.
The music means more now than ever. I think I’ve said it before. I will continue to say it.
Some things people have said to me while listening to BORJONER:
Lordy AJ, I am standing in my kitchen trying to make dinner and am weeping while listening to you sing. Your album is just beautiful. BEAUTIFUL. So proud and thankful. (Burning the millet…)
I finally got to borrow my friend’s car again which has a cd player in it and DAYUM girl!!! I am loving your album. It’s fresh. It’s inspiring. You sound amazing. Thank you for the inspiration.
Wow, so well done, you are amazing. I think during these quarantine times you should try and get it going because it is so relaxing and good listening for everyone.
I know it may seem like an odd time to release a CD, but I really believe that it was exactly the right time. The choice of songs is perfect, your CD transports me to wonderful warm, safe place.
I never thought that I might be the inspiration for someone. I am so grateful for the weeping/breathing it’s created. The valve release. The love that I feel, I want it to be contagious. These are the things that have meaning now, no longer my desire to be respected.
Now, my only desire is to inspire.
xx
AJ