I might cool out for a sec. But expect me to bug, it’s in my blood. Jay-Z “Trouble
       I regret a lot of things. Not to say that I didn’t learn from them. Not to say that, if I had a chance to go back and change them, I would. Not to say that these things haunt me. Simply, there are actions I’ve made that make me cringe whenever they float to the front of my mind. Actually, it’s more so… I feel remorse than regret. I’m a human and I’m remorseful for my actions. My conscience works the way it’s supposed to. Small things. Like… I should come in earlier to work. & I haven’t called Carl yet, even though I should. & Maybe I should’ve spent more time with my mom last weekend. & I should call my sister but I’m bad at calling her too. I regret all the arguments I’ve gotten into. The fights and altercations with a slew of different people for a plethora of reasons. Why’d I have to be… why am  I so confrontational? 
This is where the tide turns:
      The reason I understand -and occasionally opt for –the “I regret nothing” stance on life is because I feel like some good has come of everything I’ve done. If I’ve ever said something out of line… someone probably had to say it. So while my mental fucks with me, the rest of the world silently applauds me for the actions they could have never taken on themselves. Deep down, I’m a good person. It just takes a lot more digging than many people are ready to put in. I talk a whole lot of shit but most of it is surprisingly truthful, even if it’s  incorrect. That’s right, I’m the fuckin bad guy. 
      Unfortunately, I’ve been assigned the persona as one who will say things most others won’t. At one point in time, I ran with it. I would say, not only what I felt, but what other’s felt as well. I knew the whole story. I could give you all sides. Recently, though, I’ve been speaking a lot less. There isn’t a reason in the world that I’d hold me tongue in reference to my own feelings, but never again will I speak on someone else’s behalf. You ever notice that you’ve taken lead role in someone else’s battle? When I wrote Pretty Girl [Fight], I really just wanted to get my swag on. Granted I had shit to say, but the entertainment value of “publicly humiliating” someone my readers might know was something I simply couldn’t pass up. It’d be like if Media Take Out decided not to cover Chris Brown’s antics. Entertainment is entertainment. But I suppose the “good” person inside of me made me consider how my actions might affect others. & from this I determined that I’ve been educated far too well. The one thing that stuck with me from both PS 102: American Politics and WR: Copywriting was to always be away of the legal issue when it comes to slander and libel. You can’t get outta those. And so I never lie. I never aim to ruin anyone. Still, I do defend myself. & I say all that needs to be said. Maybe more. 
       Maybe I’ve lost restraint. Tracy Morgan was on Conan last night and said that he performs with “no boundaries.” What a beautifully terrifying way to live. There is something in truth that acts just like a drug. There is an accompanying feeling unlike anything I’ve ever experience before. I garuntee that if people told more truth, they’d do less drugs. They’d have less sex. I know that’s a bazaar stance but, if you can feel the satisfaction that comes with truth, you can stand to miss out on satisfaction in other places. 
     Even when I’m angry, I’m at peace. Because I’m not angry at the world. I might be angry at a particular instance or situation but I decided long ago that I’d never again let the outside world influence the inside me. You’ve got to be of the worl, not in it. I’ve said it before, religion isn’t my strong point… but a good quote is a good quote: Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is (Romans 12:2).” 
        My mistake in dealing with this last bit of drama was not in my first post, rather in my second. For giving that much attention to a little girl. But I had felt disrespected. I had to defend myself, and so did she I suppose. The problem is, I’m not the the regular type of girl. I mean… I’m closer to it now, but only because reform school did me well.  I went from a “I’ll see you outside,” type of school system to one where kids barely squealed at recess. A quieter type of people. I learned from these people. I keep my hands to myself. I don’t initiate any bad blood… but “expect me to bug, it’s in my blood.” The worst part about conforming to middle-upper class social system is that those people react to situations differently that I am both accustomed to and prefer. When someone mentions my name, I could brush it off & keep it moving, but I don’t like to be disrespected. I have a mafioso mentality. Like Tommy in Goodfellas, please don’t disrespect me. Someday, it might all come back to me, but it’ll take a whole lotta planning & it’ll have to be someone I know. I don’t let many get that close to me. 
        I half-regret that I responded again. But I named the post Unfinished Business because that’s what I felt it was. Everything in my wanted to post a blank blog with a simple sentence: “What are two things you should have less of in your mouth? My name & so much penis, you stupid little bitch,” but as you can probably tell, that wouldn’t have been effective. With that said, I feel like even though I could have done completely without the second post, I needed it. I needed to finish my thoughts. I needed to say all that had to be said. I needed to air the situation, for myself. I needed to finish her. #MortalCombat.  
    The beautiful thing about having a blog is that you get to put your opinions out into the world and not give a fuck what people think. Conversation is too much. Personally, I’d rather not have two-way conversation. Now that she has my email, she won’t quit hitting me back. Trying to get the last word in. I fueled her and for that I apologize. I should have never allowed her to think she’s more important that she is. In two posts, I gave her all the attention the men she chases refuse to show. A good & bad thing I suppose. I simply don’t find much of what others say to be interesting. Not beneficial. Sometimes, a person simply just wants to say what they want to say with no response. 
     One of my best friends is going through some things right now but I haven’t gotten the chance to speak to her. I don’t really know the details. Thing is, I don’t want to ask. Not only is it none of my business, but I have nothing to add. She’s an adult. & I understand that maybe, she might just want someone to listen. Not everyone wants advice. You just need to get the feelings out. Even if I disagree. Even if I agree. I’m working on my listening, but it is a completely separate affair from my speaking. I don’t care. I don’t care what people think. I don’t care what people say. I don’t care what the reactions are to what I write and what I say because I live for me. Once, someone commented on my posts that I should post “less” unless this is supposed to be in “diary” form. I write what I want, when I want, how I want about whatever I want. This is my world. This is my blog. This is my existence and if my posts aren’t beneficial to at least one person out there, they’re beneficial to me. 
       I’ve let go of the world. I’m rarely concerned with how people view me. Not to say I don’t care at all –because we all do, contrary to idealist beliefs –but it’s their reactions to my actions that affect me, but my actions remain regardless. At the end of the day though, like Jay said in The Ruler’s Back, “you will respect me, simple as that.” I needed this, though. This drama. To learn how to deal with the situation as an adult. I mean, you have to handle tings appropriately. When I got her email(s), I sat & debated… do I write a third post? Perhaps? I thin I’ll always write a post… simply to get my thoughts out. Diary form 😉 But other than that, I think I should, “let [them] take shots at me. No response… just flip and pop my collar like the Fonz,” because the streets never stop talking & I have to learn that now. Because I’ll be honest & say I’m not the girl you’ll catch fighting on the subway, I’m too grown for that. But last night, after I got outta work, I saw her last email. “Too blessed to stress” was the subject line and “have a great life” was her ultimate comeback. I went grocery shopping, cleaned the house, thought about my outfit for my date on Thursday, mentally planned another date for Saturday, put all my pretty shoes in their respective pretty boxes, hit an L while I finished cooking dinner for a man with commas in his bank account and realized I’m already having a great life. I, too, am too blessed to stress. Unfortunately, I had forgotten that. & for that I apologize. I was raving & ranting like the worst had happened in my life when really, I just like drama. I just like to put bitches in their place. It’s fun. To “son” bitches is a hobby of mine simply because I can do it properly & I only do things if I can do them exceptionally well. 
        But… I am only human. I learn by action. I suppose since I put myself out there, one may assume that I am (or think I am) the absolute image of perfection. & I am. Perfectly human. & Perfectly me. I would never, ever chose to be anyone else. Particularly not the girl who makes lists of men she wants to sleep with *low blow? oh well, Didn’t you know? I’m the fucking Bad Guy. & I’m quite content being that because when I go out, I’m gonna go out loud. You’ll have to bring an army with your biggest soldiers and your baddest guns. Like Machiavelli, I’d prefer to be feared than loved. My veins pump respect. I’m allergic to anything less. So to the little girl who’s feelings I hurt, I’m sorry but… you know you bitches is my sons. & Mommy had to spank you for that shit you said. [my literally LOL came here.]
fin