Day 2 of 1000: The Sound of the Black Box

Yesterday was the launch. The “claiming of the name.” Today, the adrenaline has settled into something quieter, steadier, and a little more haunting.

I spent the afternoon with a microphone and a raw recording of Jar of Hearts. It’s a song about wreckage, which feels fitting given where I’ve been. But listening back to it today, I didn’t hear a victim. I heard pipes. I heard a vocal strength I’ve been building in the dark while I was busy surviving the crashes.

There’s a moment at the end of the take where I caught my own reflection—making this small, surprised face. Like, “Wait, was that actually me?” It was.

It’s the same woman who landed in PNG in 2017 with a mushy head and a broken heart after losing her dad. But this time, I’m not just waiting for a “ship” to board. I’m the captain. I’m laminating my goals today because I need them to be permanent. I need to see the plan protected, shiny, and real.

I’m also investing back into myself. Today, I used the money I earned from this “naughty” brand to fund my own safety—buying my first piece of equipment for the range. Most people would see a contradiction between the “soft voice” on a recording and the grit of a firearm. But for me, it’s all the same thing: Independence.

The plane is in the air. The black box is recording. And for the first time in 30 years, I actually like the way it sounds.

Day 2/1000. Steady as she goes.