The Other Office. 

 I’m so fuckin happy. With like… life in general. I’m alive. *shrugs* I do what I want. *shrugs* I pay all my bills. *shrugs* I can only ask but for so much at 23. “It’s alright, you’re 50,” she’d said. There’s only one girl younger than me at the office, but she’s about a foot and a half taller than me –that doesn’t say much but no one can ever call her a little old woman. & They’ve already started in on me. It’s cool, though, because she’s just like me except for one minor detail. She acts like she’s old & married because she has a boyfriend. I act old & married because I pretend to be –it’s my ideal situation. I also pretend to have 10 karats on my finger & sometimes wear a demo to test it out. There’s no shame in my game.

        Everyday, I realize a little more how much I don’t need niggas in my life. Not personally anyway. I love the presence of men –I enjoy their company thoroughly –but these niggas are more of a headache than popular opinion would lead one to believe. You all have no idea what I’ve been going through. Remember xxxxxxxx? He had this internal “I don’t deserve you” struggle I couldn’t put up with. When a person says they’re not good enough for you, they’re not. That’s why he showed up to lunch with a “mark” on his neck that was “nothing.” After Christmas. Never trust someone who doesn’t even trust themselves. He was instructed to lose my number 😉  Kendell keeps calling. I changed him name in my phone to “Ignore”. Every night I get private calls. I had to find out to use the “reject number” feature on my phone cuz of this nigga. I don’t even like technology like that but.. had to get my learn on –I refuse to change my number for a nigga. I believe that if I say don’t call me, you shouldn’t call me. Herb-ass niggas (lol I’m so glad HollyWood reminded me of those.).  Truth is I don’t really like to publicly embarrass men on here, but it’s out. of. control.  Never mind the fact that it’s more like dealing with children. I’m more irritated by the idiocy than upset.  More confused by their inability to… do what needs to be done when it should be done. Never till it’s too late, huh boys? I’ve never experienced such a practical example of supply and demand. I’ve got no patience left… now everybody wants it.

      I’m drained. They make my head hurt and my back ache. & not in no good way. There’s no reason for a man to call me at work trying to make up. If a man calls you at work because you won’t answer your phone, he has no respect. He has no respect for you and no respect for money. Kendell never really cared about my job anyhow –I never told him what I do, but some how he felt superior to me while he spent his day picking up trash at the museum on 125th. Fuck my good heart. I try to make expections for these niggas –breaking my own rules– and I end up where I told myself I would end up. That is why I listen to me more now 🙂 Since you don’t know all the details, please don’t try to build my timeline in your head, just know that Kendell’s calls tend to begin with “I know it’s been 3 months but…” smhherb. I heard him out for the first time in months — I need him to say what he needed to say so I could tell him to stop callin my fucking phone –and had to listen to him reminisce about “coming home” to me after work. First off nigga, you didn’t pay NO BILLS in this muthafucka. Home, my nigga? Negative. & Secondly, I hated the shit, now that I think back. It’s not that I have a problem cooking & cleaning & doing laundry… but this man expected it. You all might not know the details but me & this dude only spoke for two weeks. You try to be a good person and these niggas walk all over you. You try to be “wifey type” and they simply consider it a legal form of slavery. This man thought he owned me. I had to get out. I remember the day he asked me for $20 for a sack. I had to get out fast.

      There’s the thing: It’s not that a woman like to be treated like trash, but it’s better than being able to walk all over a man. Kendell used to be more masculine before I showed him I don’t give a fuck who he is –whole time biting my tongue so that I wouldn’t tell him what he’ll never be. That’s what people fail to notice with me –there is so much left unsaid. I leave the drama right where it begins. & while I seem cold & heartless now, it’s a significant upgrade from the bitch I used t be. They expect me to fight and argue and hold on without understanding that I’ve already done enough of that. I’ve fought enough niggas. I can’t  anymore. Like… really. The thought of the stress makes my body ache –I’m not playing when I say that. That’s why I can’t deal with anyone I know. That’s why I live in a fantasy. In my head, they way I dream it up,  people fall in love without two words and runaway & elope (VEGAS, baby.). If it’s love. CinderELLA is still waiting on prince. If it never happens it never happens, but I’m sure I’ll avoid plenty stress. In reality, though, I don’t fear ending up alone. My “loneliness” at this point is completely by choice. Giving out my card has only lured in the dirtiest of them all –men who pretend to have an interest in my work only to find out they’re more concerned with the existence of my vagina.  From the niggas who call with nothing to say to the men who make plans with me they can’t afford. The “lunchers” who want to be friends, the friends who’ll eat if you ask. The ones you can kick out after a lick & those who won’t leave cuz they’re stuck. & xxxxxxxx didn’t know what to do with it. I’m not sure what I expected from him, but when I tell him there’s a nigga who likes to use his hands & show up at my door at 9:30am, he would consider checking in with me on the weekends. Nah. He had better shit to do. & he did. So he couldn’t be around… but not a phone call? Nah. Problem with xxxxxxx is that he was a regular young nigga who got a chick pregnant. He was smart enough to end the relationship with her, but on our last night together, I found out he was paying her way through school. I mean, that’s cool. That’s kind of him, but I simply can’t involve myself self with so much financially invested in other people he was also emotionally invested in. That’s when I realized that him complaining about paying every time we went out  was, in truth, because this bitch needs  to pay for  a lab? Nah. Me? I’m strrraaaiiiighhhhht, homie.

      The only thing I feel bad about is the pretend heartbreak these boys seem to be feeling. There aren’t many like me, so I understand. Every time I turn around someone’s trying to find a substitute me.   The stories of “love” I’m fed are amazing. Silently, I register them all. I’m not an arguer, I’ve told you. I don’t “uh-huh, whatever” or “you know you love me” these niggas anymore because I try to spare their hearts. I avoid the games.  I let these niggas give me a dose of their bullshit, hide it under my tounge & spit it out later. Niggas lie. Actually… people  lie. There’s so much bullshit being traded in the world. We pretend to be okay with less than we deserve because someone fed us bullshit saying that’s the way things work. I refuse. If I were to listen to that, I’m sure of where I’d be. 23 with 3 kids. Locked down for life. Children are a blessing & love is beautiful… all in the right time. With the right person. I could love anyone right now, I’m sure of it. But if it all doesn’t add up to what I need it to be, there’s no pretending otherwise. I’m less selfish than I used to be, but really, that’s not saying much. I’m openly selfish –I know that no one is going to look out for me the way I look out for me. With that said, when I’m trough with someone, I quit cold-turkey. In truth, I disappear. I never call and refuse to pick up. I read through tetx messages and laugh. These niggas don’t love me, I’m wise enough to know. & even if they do, they’re not within the correct pay-grade. 
       “I’d love to take you to dinner,” he’d said as I handed him my card. “I’m sorry, hun,” I’d said to him, “I’m 100% business.” Oh ok, he said and walked away quickly. No bye? No nothing? No let’s be friends lol. I mean… you couldn’t have liked me that much, sweetheart. It’s probably better that I said, no. A year ago, I’d have had you take me out & ordered the entire right side of the menu. He should pray to whoever he believes in. He walked right by me the rest of the night as if he’d never tried his hand, but I suppose that’s the root of it all. The men I’ve been meeting latley don’t really like me. They like the thought of me. They like to know that they tried it out. They like the idea o me on their arm. Who gives a fuck what I’m really like. They’ll lay it on me if the chance arises. What about my mind? Secondly, what about this mortgage? I’m not playin.  If you take on a “partner” it should be for a benefit. When I took on Kendell, I was losing money. I had extra meals to cook and more laundry to do with no extra cash coming it. He thought it was funny when he lost all his money on a dice game. I’m not Jesus. I can’t keep feeding these niggas off my bread. When I took on xxxxxxxx, I took on a 4-year-old and broken self-esteem to manage. He said he didn’t get me anything for Christmas because nothing was good enough. I can’t. I can’t do it anymore and I can’t come up with reasons why. I don’t need anymore reasons why. 

         I’m back, bitches. Back on my grind –and that’s the best art about it all. I dediate all of my time to myself. I take longer baths. I’m more patient with my hair. (It’s been coming out really good lately.) I’ve switched from lotion to baby oil & I like the result so far. (You have to baby oil while you’re still wet. It’s umm… interesting & does keep my skin softer for longer). I got @ClosetJane‘s nail care kit in the mail Friday & I can’t wait to begin my regimen. I treat myself right. I make myself 3 course meals because I deserve it. (Really, tonight I just had applesauce as my appetizer & an ice cream up for desert lol, but  I made ziti w/ shrimp & broccoli in a butter, garlic & parmesan sauce — what have you done for you lately?) I feel blessed. I listened to myself explaining my schedule to @AyoBossBitch_ (follow my homie, yo!) as we both heard me out I admired myself. I’m trying. I don’t know the full scope of what Im doing or where it’s going, but I just need it to go somewhere. Anywhere. Because I love this bog shit, forreal. Any free time I have, I dedicate it to this blog –and even sometime I don’t have. I lock myself in my room all weekend because… I gotta do something. I have to write. It’s what I do. It’s what I’m supposed  to do, and for that reason, I dedicate myself to it. You see, I’m the type to disappear and people like to call & complain. Or they call & ask. Either they assume I need company but I don’t– or they need company and I just don’t have the time for it. “Where you been?” they ask. Frankly, I don’t like people keeping tabs on my unless it’ll affect my compensation. Don’t clock me if you don’t pay me, is how I feel. “Stranger,” they call me. Then why are you hitting me up? I don’t talk to strangers & neither should you. I hold my tongue more than I want to. Niggas don’t know that because, in truth,  niggas don’t know me.  

        “People don’t know what you do, but they think it’s… a lot. The think you walk around an office of well-dress people and yell orders. They think it’s Devil Wears Prada.” @JustBeingCarl informed me. Whatever you say, I am.  People don’t know shit about my life because A. I don’t tell them and B. They should be focused on their own lives anyhow. I’m not sure it’s entirely fair for me to remove myself from the world and chase money but… Fuck that.  I love money.  So much I had to find a reason to tattoo a dollar-sign on myself (with a needle & some ink, I swiftly changed my mother’s name into currency). Had a long talk with @QnAllDay and realized I’ve never loved a man like that. I’ve never loved anyone more than I’ve loved myself. My future. My education. My bank account. I’ve never considered anyone that important. I new in the 8th grade I was going away for college. My high school dropout boyfriend was never going to come along for the ride, so I never planned on him. I fell in love once in college so When He Left Me, I got pissed off and got badder than I’ve ever been. He always worried I’d leave him for someone richer anyhow. Crazy thing is, he’s the only person I’d have given up the world for –stayed in dirty ass Baltimore for — but a nigga with low-self esteem and tangible goals doesn’t go too much farther than he plots out. Funny how niggas know that can’t afford you off break then make it seem like you ask for too much later. You shoulda never signed up for this, boo. Secretly, everyone knew you were unqualified. & that’s the saddest part of reminiscing about us. #RealRap
       & this blog shit is interesting in the nigga department. No matter how “professional” I get, I promise to be real with you all about it all as much as I can. I enjoy telling you about the books I’ve read,  the music I’ve listened to & the art I saw… by my soul hungers for a more genuine connection to the greater world. While I’m doing all of this, I’m still consciously trying to be a bater person. The growth I’m chasing is not all in relation to my bank account (although most of it is), but to be a better person is a triumph everyone should experience. Every day I try to be a better person. I’m still thinking very carefully about the moves I make. For example, this bog shit is an easy excuse to go anywhere at any given time for any fucking thing. But any fucking thing isn’t always what I need in my life. It’s mostly guys who want to be interviewed & have their music put out (I’ve love if more ladies reached out, and I’ll do my best as well) and dealing with men –in general– is tricky. I try my hardest to be 100% business, but understand that I am a woman –and I have embraced that. I don’t believe I have to act more masculine or less emotional to be a boss. I make moves just fine in 5inch heels. I believe men should always hold the door open for me. I shouldn’t pay for dinner. I believe the world has lost balance. Men think that if they hold a door open, they deserve to get their dicks sucked. & women have been playing with far too much penis. I’m tired. There’s no dick in the world that feels better than paying my bills in full.  Can’t no stroke in the world stop a bill collector from calling. Penis simply isn’t beneficial, unless it is.

    I’m grown. Which means, I handle my business, but my business has been handled. Momentary satisfaction doesn’t do it for me. I’ve lived too many days on this earth to overlook the fact that tomorrow is another day. My actions today are my life tomorrow. I stopped fucking up a while ago –on various levels: The way I walk, the way I talk. Meaning the shit I say and the way I carry myself. I have a clearer sense of my self-worth and power that lies between my thighs. Typically, I don’t speak sex, but perhaps that’s the issue. There’s are too may living room conversations about how good this on and that one was (but probably more along the lines of how good they weren’t) instead of conversations about self-respect. About restraint. About using what you were given to make the world go round. The moment you let go of that which makes you prized, your allure is lost.  Everyone likes expensive things. Perhaps not because they’re more expensive… perhaps their just of higher quality. No one likes trash. & some people are okay with used shit… but you get tired of it after a while. If you need to take the time to reinvent yourself, I encourage you to do so. I know they say you can’t turn a hoe into a housewife, so why would you pick the former? There’s always time to better yourself, though. Still, you should start that betterment regiment ASAP. 

        I’m not the almighty. I’m not better than anyone. I’m flawed and while I have improved, I haven’t changed. I dont think any differently than I used to, you just read my shit now. In person, I’m still quiet. In person, I won’t say all this –there simply isn’t a venue for it. Besides,  I don’t speak to people I don’t know. Like Pauly in Goodfellas.  It makes me uncomfortable. Plus, if I have no business with you, I have very little to say. We can only talk about the weather for so long. In this world, there are far too many ulterior motives. I distance myself so that I can see the bullshit before they toss it my way & duck when it hits the fan.

       I’m not interested in people. Friendship doesn’t do it for me. Business? I love business. Anyone who thinks they may eat off of my why the spoils come in is mistaken. I’ll put everyone on the payroll, you’ve got to put in work, though. I’ll attend any event you want, I need my name on the list, though. I work all week so I mainly do weekends. Still no matter the day of the week, or how much I like to party, Ella makes it home early. I love my job & I love my blog. I love my little family and my dwindling friends.  My mom is my ride-or-die & my sister’s my best friend, so at the end of the day, I need nothing but them. The best way to focus on your business is to focus on your business. 100% at the least. Anyone who complains to you about time doesn’t understand your grind. I know that I’ll have to end up with a person who will just shut the fuck up for a couple of hours and if I can’t find that now, hey *shrugs* tough. I can’t waste anymore time because 5 years from now, I’l look back on the time I could have been getting my name out and my shit together, instead I spent it wrapped up with some niggas who’s not even around anymore. Imagine that? smh.

Niggas come. Niggas go. 
Get your money right or the shit you got will go, too. 

S/O to everyone following their dreams. 
That’s what this shit is all about. 
If dreams didn’t matter, sleep wouldn’t be so important.
 So every time you wake up, 
be thankful. & #GrindHarder. 


Oh & I spent 13 hours today writing up  
HollyWood of @Eastbrookfamily‘s review for his 24:7 Mixtape.
I put on this shit to make sure I told the truth. (lol) He’s my first real album review 
(in the way I wanted to do it) so it was an intense day for me. 


REVIEW of 24:7 

Check him out though. His music gave me life recently.