When I first heard Maybe I Am , I’ll be honest—I wasn’t here for the self-reflection. In fact, I kind of wore the song like a badge of honor. The defiance in it spoke to me. "So, what if I’m ruining my own life? It’s my life, I can do whatever I want." There was this rebellious streak in me, like, you don’t know me, and I’m going to live how I feel, consequences be damned. Also, who are you to tell me I am doing things to myself? Aren't you supposed to love me regardless? It felt like the perfect song to throw up in the face of anyone who tried to tell me I was making mistakes or that I should change. Maybe I Am  was my anthem for chaos, for living recklessly and unapologetically or at least holding onto that energy. But here's the thing about the song: it doesn't just stay in that rebellious space. The more I listened, the more it started forcing me to look at myself—really look at myself. And as much as I hated to admit it, the song was calling me out on my own toxic behaviors. The truth is, I was  sabotaging myself. I was controlling situations in ways that hurt, pushing people away just because I didn’t want to confront the things I was doing wrong, or I was in this endless defensive state where I did or said things I didn't really mean to hold my place. The line between my own stubbornness and self-destruction was getting blurry, and it felt like the song was just holding a mirror up to my worst habits. At first, I resisted the message. After all, how could I accept that maybe  I was the one causing my own grief? That would mean admitting that people who called me out—especially the ex I was still holding on to—were right. And who wants to do that? It’s hard to say, “Yeah, you hurt me, but you were right when you called me out on my shit.” Plus, let's be honest, we all love a bit of the toxicity. It's the unhealthy parts of us that want some exhilaration. But as the track played over and over, I started to hear something different in it. It wasn’t just a “fuck you” to everyone who tried to hold me accountable. It became an invitation to reflect on why I kept making the same mistakes, over and over again. I couldn’t ignore the fact that a lot of my struggles were self-inflicted. I was getting in my own way. And the more I listened to the song, the more I started to understand that maybe there was something liberating about accepting that part of myself. What’s hard to admit is that those toxic habits—the ones you hate but secretly love, because they feel comfortable or familiar—are intoxicating for a reason. It’s like you get hooked on the adrenaline of chaos, of fighting, of being your own worst enemy, because it’s the only thing that feels like control when everything else feels out of your hands. Maybe I Am  doesn’t offer a solution to that internal war; it just asks you to look at it. It says, “Hey, maybe you’re the problem, and maybe that’s okay. We don’t have to fix everything right now, but can we at least agree on that?” And that’s what the song gave me—permission to admit my flaws without immediately needing to change them. At least, not yet. It's as if Fletcher was saying, “You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to fix everything in one go. But can you just acknowledge that maybe, sometimes, you are your own worst enemy?” In the broader context of Fletcher’s album, Maybe I Am  feels like the starting point—a brutal wake-up call that sets the tone for everything that comes after. It's the first track, and it makes you face the fact that you’re the one getting in your own way. It's not about shame, it's not about guilt; it’s about recognizing that sometimes, the very things you’re blaming others for, you’re also doing to yourself. The rest of the album picks up from there, moving through healing, love, and self-discovery, but Maybe I Am  is one that forces you to confront the uncomfortable truth about yourself. So, maybe I am the problem sometimes. Maybe you are, too. But simply acknowledging that—without the pressure to fix it immediately—could be the first step toward real change. Or, you know, do what you want, but at least own the fact that you're the one causing the damage.

I’ll admit, I was late to the Fletcher fan club. Honestly, I don't even know if I am in this fan club. My ex introduced me to her music a while ago, and at first, I had no idea who she was. There was drama about her music, and I remember my ex (my girlfriend at the time) sharing the backstory with me while we drove around. As we spent more time together, I started hearing more of Fletcher’s songs, and one, in particular, Lead Me On , hit me in a way I didn’t expect. It felt like it spoke to our relationship—one where we both knew that if we ever broke up (which, of course, we did - talk about manifesting), part of us would always long for the other and want to be led on in a way. That song felt like a soundtrack to our love story. Fast forward to the breakup. At first, Fletcher’s music became an escape—something to help me distract from the pain. But over time, something shifted. As I listened more closely, I realized that these songs weren’t just about the breakup or about someone else. They were about me. I watched the interview she did with Zane Lowe for Apple Music and the theme I got out of it was the album was about self-love. When I heard that and relistened to each track it clicked, and I was like this is different. The album was a portal to my  healing, confronting parts of myself I had been ignoring. The more I delved into Fletcher’s music, the more I started to see that the lyrics weren’t just speaking to love lost, but to the internal love I needed to find within myself. What started as a way to cope with my emotions evolved into a deeper, more profound healing journey - an unexpected antidote. One song, in particular, Two Things Can Be True , made me realize that we are rarely just one thing. Emotions aren’t black and white. You can feel sadness and joy at the same time. You can love someone and let them go. That song forced me to stop looking for a “right” way to grieve or heal and instead, embrace the ebb and flow of those contradictory feelings. It taught me grace—the kind of grace that lets you be messy, human, and complex without feeling like something’s wrong. And here I am, writing this blog, reflecting on how an album I never expected to impact me ended up being a key part of my emotional and personal growth. This isn’t just a breakup story; it’s a journey of accepting the unexpected, embracing parts of myself I didn’t realize I was neglecting, and allowing myself to change without judgment. Through Fletcher’s music, I learned that there’s value in the unexpected, in letting go of rigid expectations and discovering the depth of who I am.

Challenge yourself," they say. "Challenge yourself," I said too (especially this morning). I took my own advice and let me say—it was a challenge! For GrandValli , I wanted to create an interactive map. I thought it would be an engaging piece of content that would add value for the audience and a little different from what was expected. With the help of AI ( Abacus.AI  - Chat LLM), I figured it would be pretty easy. I figured I would prompt AI and it would code what I needed. Then based on that I would ask AI how I post it and BOOM we would be done. As you can imagine it was not that smooth. It took me about four hours! Now, mind you, I know nothing about code, so four hours is actually way less time than it would have taken if I didn't have AI to help. However, when you think something will only take an hour and it takes 4. It's a humbling experience. Map with landscape background created by Abacus AI Chat LLM 💡 What I found out and learned through this: 1. Prompting AI requires patience and practice. You can't always leave things to chance—you have to take the time to be clear about what you're asking. I found this beneficial because it forces you to get clear with yourself first. I had to learn a little code, even though I was asking AI to code for me. 2. While AI can be incredibly helpful in an area you know nothing about, you can't expect it to replace the need for some learning or basic knowledge—which is actually beneficial. Did I expect to learn how to code an interactive map today? No. I was expecting an easy plug-and-play solution. However, now I can say that I learned a little bit! And if you need an interactive map like the one, I made for GrandValli on Wix  I got you! Just give me about three hours. 😊 3. No matter how long it takes, nothing beats having an idea and seeing it come to life. It doesn't have to be perfect or polished—it just has to be done. Four hours later, I can say the energy, time, and learning curve were all worth it. The takeaways: ✍ Embrace the Learning Curve – No matter how new or difficult something seems, diving in and figuring it out step by step will always teach you more than just watching from the sidelines. Growth happens when you push past your comfort zone. ✍ AI is a Tool, Not a Replacement – AI can be incredibly helpful, but it works best when paired with human creativity, critical thinking, and adaptability. Understanding the basics of what you're working on makes the collaboration with AI much smoother. ✍ Done is Better Than Perfect – Perfectionism can slow you down or even stop you from starting. Taking action, learning as you go, and completing the project—even if it's not flawless—will always move you forward faster than waiting for the "perfect" moment. What do you think? Have you ever had an experience like this? If you are curious, just head to the map and click the red dot. The GEI Map | GrandValli