This ain’t no shoulder with a chip or an ego. What you think they all mad at me for? 
 Beyonce “Upgrade You” 

        My apologies, I’ve been out chasing dreams. My obsession has changed over from filling my bank account to filling my calendar to fill said bank account. I’m giving the world everything I’ve got, right now.I’ve been thinking again. Yep. Me. And… I love this shit. I really do.  I am seemingly having the time of my life. And I am. But I’m not. I mean… I am having the time of my life. I’ve met… amazing people. Already. People who want to be somebody and some of them who actually might. I know the future. Already. The reason you surround yourself with good people is because people try to push you in their current. They want you to feel what they feel and see what they see just so that they can have some proof that they’re not alone in the world. The question at hand, though, is whether that’s good or bad. 

       I don’t really want to hang out with anyone. I want to sit here. In my bed. So when that’s what I do,  I do it. I go out into the world purely for the exercise of experiencing it. I just want to see who’s out. What they’re wearing. What they’re listening to. I like to be out with my people. I like to know what people are doing, but not necessarily be in the middle of it. I spent the summer of 2010 in a bit of a haze – I had just graduated from college and was working at ALDO making enough to buy myself shoes on Fridays and drinks on Saturdays. Living at home with my mother was heaven besides from the fact I didn’t want to do it forever. $8.50/hr and I was looking through the newspapers on Sundays for jobs and/or apartments. Depending on if who irked me more on that particular Sunday – the customers or my mother.
      8th grade was the first time my mother wanted me to stop hanging out with my friends. My teacher had called my mother and made of the biggest mistakes of her career: She’d told my mother to tell me to choose different friends. That the kids I was hanging out weren’t “good” for me. The first issue at hand was that they had moved myself & two other girls into that class to raise the collective GPA. Initially, they’d moved all the “troublesome” kids into one class & it didn’t work as they’d hoped. When they fucked with my future in order to help theirs, they forgot to tell me not to associate with my new classmates. Sometimes, I did. I did all of my work before I fooled around –then passed the work around so they could hurry up and fool around with me. I’m not sure if the kids I went to school with weren’t bright or just didn’t give a fuck. When I saw their work, I realized it was a little bit of both. I turned my head when Jose rolled up in the back of the class but laughed louder than anyone when the substitute ran for her life and yelled she was going to “call 411” because we’d throw paper, rubber bands and paperclips every time she turned her back to the board. We weren’t bad kids, we just liked to fuck around + piss people off. Well, I wasn’t a bad kid. Everyone else can take the time defend themselves. I’m no lawyer.
 Anyhow, this teacher was  so uninfluential I’ve forgotten her name, but she taught reading in the class at the end of the blue brick hallway. I had no respect for her. I’m not sure how much you are capable of teaching when I know the words. “I read, bitch,” was how I felt, but I had more respect then to say that to her, directly.

      “You don’t know me,” is what I told her after class the next day. The look on her face clearly showed she’d never met a 13-year-old girl with balls so big. We call these cojónes, ladies + gentlemen.  “Please don’t tell my mother who I should or should not be friends with. I’ll decide for my self. I’m doing just fine.” 

       “I just thought…”

     “I’ll decide for myself.” I repeated and walked straight out her class. For the rest of the year, I barely existed in that class, that’s how infrequently she looked at me. & I was at the point where everyone knew I knew all the answers so I never rarely my hand anymore. The only time I’d answer questions was when the class was stuck and I was over waiting on them. 
For more events:
         I’ve always felt like I’m the same as everyone, but not. I don’t quite fit in anywhere. It’s a gift of a curse. I do what I want without considering who’s going to go with me. Last Friday, I went to happy hour at Greenhouse for –They’re good guys. Used to party (+ worked with them briefly) in Baltimore. Trix + Zekes events are always well managed. It’s a good group of people who simply like to party + vibe. Don’t recall ever witnessing drama at any of their events. So I slid through afterwork for a drink –settled on Henny & cranberry because the bartender didn’t know what to do with me. I want to try Johnnie Walker but I have no idea what it is or what it goes with. #FunFact, I don’t drink to get fucked up, I drink to taste. If you’re not tasting what you’re drinking (and liking it), I suggest you re-evaluate your reasons for drinking –or your drink order at the very least.  As I neared the bottom of my glass –and the clock moved closer to 11 (they really do get everyone out of there on time, + as you leave, there’s already a line for the night crown. Greenhouse was live, y’all) I made my way through the dance floor, giving my car out to people who probably would have preferred if I had left them alone. It’s embarrassing *shrugs* Not sure how many of you would walk through a party alone speaking to people who don’t know you but… it’s my 2nd full time J-O-B.

        Plenty people probably wonder why I don’t have anyone doing this with me… I do, they’re just in control of different parts of things. I’m not sure what good it does to have everyone do the same thing –who needs two of anything? I consider my current position a benefit to all of my relationships –while I run this side of the world, I have people taking care of the spaces my physical can’t reach at the moment. Plus, being alone comes in handy when there’s no other option. We surround ourselves with so many people that if we have a moment to ourselves, we think there’s something wrong. If we’re not out and we’re not doing something and someone isn’t blowing up our phones, it seems we’ve failed at something. So we fish out people to join us in doing anything we’re too afraid to do by ourselves, forcing relationships out of fear rather than love. Building relationships out of necessity. No one needs to do anything except for what they want to do –and the last person to figure that out is the real loser. 

       You’ve got to learn to let go of the world if you want to fly. Not sure how far you can go when your feet are planted in one place. I think we’ve got to test our limits. In all honestly, I kind of don’t like going anywhere with anyone I know, because the people around you assume they know all you’r capable of. I believe it inhibits you. One of the greatest modes of motivation is support from those who care for you, but that same “care” might force them to be more afraid for you that they are supportive. My mother has no idea what this “blog” business is about. She just knows I love it. She’ll tell people I have a website with no explanation, no detail. It’s just what I have. I’m her daughter and people should know I’m doing something. The only time I question her being my ride-or-die is when I talk about blowin’ up + getting rich. My mom doesn’t like fly talk, she likes facts. Results. Cash. So when she changes the subject on me, it pierces my heart a bit. When i realize that people I know aren’t reading my blog, it pains me a little bit, but I can’t let any of that get to me. Those people already know me. &If you’ve met me once, you pretty much know what I’m about… just don’t box me in cuz I’m one impressive muhfucka. I take advantage of every opportunity that comes my way. Challenges arouse me –someone can figure out if that’s morally wrong or not. As I waited for “Poetry + Tea” to start at Shrine, I enjoyed dinner by myself at Yatenga next door turning my lame evening into a night of reviews. Whenever I get bored, I get to #work. 
         I am genuine.  Still, the only way to show that to you except to be who I am. To be the same Ella I was the first day I started this blog: 7.24.2010 + that is why I have no fear. I can be me without having to think about. It’s the easiest thing I’ve do and the toughest place for me to have gotten to. I have to act in the world without consideration for what you all think –and that’s tough when I’m giving out cards at a party in New York City and people already know who I am, because they know who I am but they don’t know me. Have you ever felt alone in a room full of people? The shit is sick. I walk into clubs and men think I’m there to be grabbed and women think I’m there for their men –that’s all it is, so I spend my night ignoring everything with a more than two legs (unless it’s wine) and smiling at women I’ve never met before (unless they look miserable. I leave them alone). But I come to listen to the music. I come to share in the good times. I come to experience your art. (S/O @DJExeQtive + his work on the tables. He had the crown goin at 10pm.) 
       I learned today that I am a good woman. It may seem I never get down on myself, but I’m human so I do. I just don’t want you to confuse me for a brittle person. My mid attacks my ego as all hours waging wars, asking for proof. Still, I stand with my head held high and have one final answer to silence all doubts: Aren’t I the best, though? We don’t take part in many activities we aren’t good at. There’s a particular… thing I may be (or may not, but am damned closed to being) the best in. It frightens me, not because I’m afraid to lose, but because it’ll pain me to fail at something I’m sure I deserve to win in. I am a writer. “Hi, I write. If you get a chance to check out my blog, I’d appreciate it.” That’s probably what I said to you when you met me. Typically, I have to repeat, “I write,” twice afterwards. The first time because they really didn’t hear me and the second to confirm they heard me correctly. Lots of people’s faces screw up. lol. I’m not sure if it’s a “What do I care?” or a “What is write?”  My favorites are the people who’ve read me before. They make my night. The feeling of meeting someone for the first time and having them already know you is… freeing. If they read me, I assume they fuck with me. *shrugs* Some call that a “following” I call that trust. Understanding. They understand why I’m here. It’s like having friends you didn’t know you had. Tightens the world up a little bit. Makes it less lonely. Most of the other girls like me off rip. The happy ones. I got a thumbs up on the train yesterday. That was actually pretty dope. *shrugs* lol. At Greenhouse I followed with,  “I have to pass these cards out? Can I leave my stuff here?” I speak only to females, with the exception of men I already know (or who matter). The women I meet, contrary to the public’s belief, as sweet women. They sat there until I came back to the couch even though their friends had already walked out the door. They could’ve taken all my shit & left, but they didn’t. I appreciate that because people don’t have to be kind to you, and most times they’re not.
     The only way to move in a room full of vultures is to go in for the kill first –or last. You can sit back as others make moves. You can watch people eat and live and enjoy, but chances are, there will be very little left when you get in there. You can also try to battle it out wile everyone else is doing the same thing — just watch out for the claws. Blood is sure to splatter. Or… you can go in for the kill first. Whenever I’m at parties, I take in whatever’s left or whatever I was sipping on, give the world a big *shrugs* and say “Time to #work.” (Yep. Hashtag + all.) If I don’t force myself to move, it’ll never get done. When I’m at parties, no one’s helping me out. No one’s going to introduce me to anyone I need to know, so introduce myself. I open doors for myself. I scour the crowd by myself. I figure out the game plan by myself. You’ve got to move. You’ve got to act. Opportunities come, but they also go. You’ve got to act accordingly. You’ve got to let go of that fear. You’ve got to work. Move. Make it.  + you  can’t keep waiting on other people –you just can’t.  It’s going to be lonely now, but they say it’s worse at the top. If you can’t deal now… what can one really expect moving forward? Life only gets tougher. Deal with the bullshit now. Conquer your fears before the world makes you. 
It only gets better from here.

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