“Do I, to you, look like a lame, who don’t understand a broad with a mean shoe game? Who’s up on… &Vera Wang?
 Ma, are you insane?” – Jay-Z “Change Clothes



     A sinus infection. I don’t really know what the fuck it is, but that’s my guess. Whatever you wanna call it, just know I can’t breathe. I went into work on Monday knowing I’d die on Tuesday. On Tuesday, I woke gasping for oxygen. Not sure how I made it through the evening.  Lying on my death bed, I Tweeted my business associate, @TAsterisk. “I’m out sick & wanna take advantage.” Soon after, #BETMusicMatters.  For the first time ever, I mean it when I say “business associate”. When we first sat down for conversation, I told them I want to expand this blog thing for real. They said forreal forreal @RedEyeMediaGrp has been filling up my calendar since, blessing me with the great curse of profictablility. We’re #Workin out this muhfucka! Each of us, two jobs, actually –The  unspoken “Get Rich or Die Trying” attitude has taken us whereever it wants.  I’m telling you, when you take advantage of the moments you have available to you, you begin to erase the supposed “thresh-hold” of what you are capable of. You aren’t capable of anything you don’t try to do. And so I take advantage of my 24hours -the same 24 you have –and do what I can with them. Unfortunately, I only have 24, no more, no less. I wish I didn’t need to sleep. I keep trying to fit shit into my schedule and, for the most part, I make it happen. I ‘ve just dubbed myself the Queen of “change clothes & go”.  I have no other choice.

       “If I had a driver, I’d have been there,” I explained. Much to my dismay, I didn’t make it to the W.A.S.H launch party. It beckons me to type the most genuine sad face ever to appear in prose 😦  I can rattle off excuses here, but I’ll sum it up to say I’m a female. I get distracted by everything pretty. One stop turns into 12. My hair needed one more round with the flat iron before I headed out the door & I decided I can’t possibly do a thing without Essie’s new nail polish –which really isn’t a distraction because there’s a Duane Reade right across from the Bank of America & I a girl should always have cash in her pocket. From there a slow, 6-inch stiletto strut to the N-Q-R to the lower east side. I was 10 something. *Shrug* Not because I didn’t want to be at the event, but when you’re already late, the worst thing you can do to yourself if stress. I’m the first one to tell myself to get over it.

          “Are you here for the burlesque show,” she shouted as she thumbed through bills.
    
        “Umm… No,” I murmured and made my way to the back of the bar. If there’s one  thing I know, it’s that I’m never there for whatever it is they’re charging for. I bossed my way through the venue, texting “grrrs” and “I’m here’s” to no avail. Finally, I went outside to… stop looking so dumb. I didn’t know what to do at that point. Herein lies the problem of only knowing people by their Twitter names. I wanted to go up to people and ask, “Do you know @ThaHoneyB?” but that’d sound a bit elementary.  A couple well-dressed gentlemen made sure to make sure I was all right as I sat on the stoop next door to Recoup and while I wanted to ask them if they were headed to Amnesia, I couldn’t make it any father than the corner.

Cibao Restaurant, 72 Clinton St., New York, NY

         I wound up at Cibao Restauraunt –following only my nose, stomach & heart –and got myself arroz con habichuelas y carne guisada con tostones,  profavor. Man, I felt home. I forget to eat. Often. There are days I go days. My lack of eating isn’t on purpose it’s simply that my mind has gotten the best of me. Most times, my meals are simply because I remember I need to eat for my body’s sake. Sad thing is, I love food. Yet, with all the action in my life –business, personal and all the above –my health seems to have worn on me. My body losing its fervor. My footing losing its ground. Sometimes I need something to make me feel like I’m still connected to the world I once knew. As I had my first real meal in days, I understood what it was I was missing: Love. “Sientese,” he’d told me, motioning for me to sit at any empty table my heart could desire. Corner window, the boss’s table. I watched him tie the apron around his neck, then behind his back and get ready to show me what he could do. If thereis one  thing a Dominican man loves to do, it’s prove he can throw down in the kitchen. I knew it and I was all about it. I sat down with my frambuesa Country Club soda and… relaxed.

         “You wanna come home?” my mom will ask. I try to explain to her that I’m too much of a fuckin boss for a 9-5 and all she wants to do is treat me like her little girl. “When ever you don’t feel good, you have to go home. That’s what Nick says,” my mom went on. Nick is my brother-in-law. He knows what he’s talking about because he thinks with his heart. “I hate home, Ma. I don’t want to be there either,” I have to tell her. ” I know mija, I hate it, too.” I’m in New York City because it makes the most sense. There’s the most for me to do. I can book myself back to back & distract myself with enough to forget where I am and who I’m with or (more importantly) not with. After I finished my meal, I made my way to Water St. in Brooklyn to The Underwater Lounge where I spent most of my night in conversation with a man I’d never met before about what he would & would not accept for dinner.

       “You know how to cook? You can’t make no mac & cheese,” he insisted.

       “Fuck you mean?” I begged his pardon. “My husband better eat whatever I put on that table.” There are certain conversation I’m just not built for. Conversations with random men about things that concern only myself and my husband are difficult for me. Not that I have a husband at the moment, but whenever I’m in conversations only a husband has say in, I can’t help but to look down at my naked ring finger. He went on to tell me that he doesn’t eat meat -_- I’m a fuckin carnivore. I like my steak super-pink. When I see animals on TV, I wonder what they taste like. (Another reason I don’t own a television.) The more I spoke with him, the more disinterested I grew. I continued the conversation because all in all, he was a nice guy. There are plenty nice guys out there, but they’re not all made for you. Nor for me. I feel bad sometimes because if I just wanted to be… cared for, I could have anyone. You can work it if you want to. I’m not the kindest person. Not the most selfless. But I’m bright. I’m employed. I dress well. I cook okay. I clean when I have time. I’m driven. It’s difficult to ignore the passion in me &that’s not my ego speaking –thats something I actually admire of myself. I’ve never once doubted myself, I’ve always been strong enough to support and value myself even at my lowest moments. I understand why they try. But just like not every man is made for me, this woman wasn’t made for just any man.

     “Want another drink?” He was a gentlemen, I could never say otherwise. He seemed respectable, that’s why I had sat down next to him.

     “Nope, I’m leaving after this one,” I filled him in on CinderELLA’s all-grown-up rules. One drink is just about enough time to do what I have to do: See & be seen. Enough time to give out a couple cards. A couple choice conversations. A couple photos for the blog & I’m out. I disappeared to the bathroom for a while –taking pictures of pretty ladies with mean shoe game who surely thought I was insane –only to get one of those, “you left without kissing my ass” texts. You ever have little shit irk you more that it should but you simply can’t let it go? I don’t mean to bash him, but I’m having a hard time pretending to want more with people than I actually do. Some people don’t feel that way but I’m not fond of games. I’m a sore loser & don’t like to be played.

          I don’t like anyone who needs my attention. I like people who want it. But not too much. Some people do too  much. Not every situation calls for a text. Not every text calls for a response. Not every call will be responded to. This is the reason I don’t use my phone and am afraid to upgrade. I’ve been on my Beyoncé “If I Were a Boy” and telling people my shit is broken so they’ll leave me alone. I don’t want to text anyone all day everyday. I have shit to do &I need that person to have shit to do all day, too. I need someone who is okay being cancelled on and who knows how to cancel with me appropriately. I want someone who, if they can see me, will. In reality, though, I want nothing at all. I’d rather sit my ass at Cibao and have a nice dinner in silence than to be wrapped up in a conversation full of stupid questions –yes, there is a such this as stupid questions.  Conversations where we try to figure out if that person is “the one” rather than who they genuinely are.

          I promised myself I’d be honest. Part of me is a little relieved I missed the W.A.S.H Launch party. It was the end of a long week & while I wanted to be there. It just took forever.  I probably shouldn’t have stopped at Marshalls –I  didn’t reallly need a mirror for that wall &that’s probably why I walked out with shoes instead. I probably should’ve straightened my hair well the night before. I probably should’ve laid out my outfit then, too. But how many outfits can go from work to “drinks” to club? It was tough to say the least. “This is a challenge,” I said to myself int he mirror. Boots, leggings & waist bearing tank top was the final answer. Semi casual. Semi-sexy. All black everything.  I changed a couple of times & anyone who knows clothes knows what I mean. It was just one of those days. From the crown that lingered outside Recoup when I got there, I’m sure there were some super-dope outfits) I’m always hesitant to go into “networking” events. I dread the small talk. I hate breaking through forged smiles. I love the benefit after it’s done… but the shit takes a lot of work.

        At the end of most conversations, people like me… but I can tell they’re afraid to at first. They don’t know how genuine I’m going to be so, when I go into any conversation, I have to think about how to make that person ease the fuck up. If I cant have a conversation with the real you, I can’t have the conversation.  The W.A.S.H posse seems like a dope one. It was unfortunate I missed out on the event. Their video was dope. Wish I had seen it earlier *shrugs* I got in the house at 4am wanting nothing more than my bed & the ready j laying in my ashtray. It’d been a hell of a week. Hopefully, though, I can get into a room with them –outside of the party scene to see who they really are and what they stand for. Not to say I’m against the party-life, but Henny has its effect on people. I know who I am, but I don’t trust everyone *shrugs* It’s Tuesday now, and I still feel terrible about missing the event, but I’m sure they did fine without me.  Life goes on. @TAsteriskwent (therein lies the power of working with a group) so @RedEyeMediaGrp was represented well & we hope to attend in stronger numbers next time. But… you can only worry about missed launch parties but for so long *shrugs* because if it was a good as I heard it was, I’m looking forward to the next celebration.  & that’s 1000%. Hate it or love it, I’m on the road to the top. If we both stay on track, we’ll bump heads again. It’ll be a pleasure to meet W.A.S.H when I do 🙂

       If you’re wondering I’m just living life & buying shoes (not so sick anymore. I made it through the weekend).  Just making good choices & being 1000% honest with myself & all those involved. I suppose I’m doing it be best way I can without being rude or offending anyone. I can’t pretend to love or to care of to feel anything I don’t. I can’t pretend I’ve been anywhere I haven’t or claim any experienced or story other than mine. Sometimes, it seems like all I write is about myself but  that’s probably because the only life I know how to live is my own.  & I will live it as I see fit. I come in the house for long enough to hit the j & change clothes. Then, I hit the bar upon arrival & get myself a Henny & cran while I assess the relative levels of thirst in the room. (The thirst is real, btw. #PostComingSoon) I’m all  need in this life of sin, I guess. *shrugs*
*Cheers* to the future. 

Ella.