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Archive for November, 2010

Just Give Me The Light

No, I am not Sean Paul. I am, however, learning to focus on the light at the end of the dark tunnel. Today was another up and down day. The roller coaster continues, but this time there was much more up than down. I took a gamble today. In fact, I took about six.

I have so much going on and for some reason all of these things manage to overwhelm me, the person who is usually never overwhelmed. So much has changed. I lost my edge. I lost my business junkie side. I want it back. I used to be the one who was only content with 10 things to do or else I would be bored. I need that back.

Anyway, about the gamble. I played a scratch off today and won $1 from it. I did this about 3 times, then won $5 from one. I was so excited I almost grabbed someones baby and kissed it like I was running for el presidente. I am not running for president, but you should still vote for me [duh!]. I took the last of the winnings, and decided to go big. Two tickets. One for NY Lottery, the other for Mega Millions. My luck seemed to be good today, so I figured I might as well ride it out.

I also began working out again today. Lifting weights, doing push-ups, and shadow boxing really made me see, or rather feel how much damage I did to my body with the bad eating habits, the occasional smoking [I’m so done!] and the heavy drinking. It feels good to be working my way back to some realm of ninja normalcy. I mean, this is me. I’m one of the rootinest, tootinest, ass-kicking motherfuckas around! What was I doing? I need my body back in the shape it used to be. When I felt sexy and not like the worlds skinniest fat man.

I’m learning to ride the wave. I’m learning to let time do it’s thing. I’m slowly learning to let go. All help me squint a little bit harder. Harder. Squinty squinty, until I see the light at the end of the tunnel. Just give it to me already! Okay, so maybe I’m still impatient! But fuck you, patience! Amen.

Making Progress

I’m now back to the drawing board. What I want will never change. I want to be the boss. Not of the other person though, just of my own destiny and paycheck. I have a new project in the works and this one will most definitely go well beyond my usual limitations of self. I feel great promise in this one but it will remain under wraps until I can get a hold of it and figure out how to make it sprout wings and take off a bit.

I spent about two hours talking to my mom about this, tonight. I have so many great ideas that I have no clue what to do with. We went back and forth about random business ideas and the fact that no celebrities have just one source of income, yet we as everyday  people on the grind find it so easing to rely on one thing. We need to think ahead. We need to see beyond. I watch so many celebs. Some are talented, some are, in my opinion, just plain trash. But, they’re doing their thing. It’s time I get back to my thing. It’s time to change the way I think globally. I need to meet new people, not only for friendships, but for connections. I need to network with people who think beyond what they have to do for homework. I need to be inspired.

My mom says I need a mentor. Someone who has done it before. I once met Russell Simmons in Union Square and it blew my mind. Not because he was a celeb, but because there was so much about becoming an entrepreneur that I wanted to ask him. So much I missed out on. So much I needed guidance on that I never got the opportunity to fly with. Oh well, no sense in crying over spilled milk. All I can do now is try to fly and depend on family and friends to catch me and push me back up when I fall.

People don’t follow what you do, they follow what you believe. I think I understand that very well now. Rev Run said the best way to make money is to make someone else money. I have no clue at all how I am going to incorporate that into my latest idea, but I’m sure I will figure it out along the way. I have faith in my abilities and I know for sure I have at least two people holding me down. There may be others, but hey, they have their own things to worry about. I appreciate even one.

Thanks everyone, for reading and encouraging me over the years. Some people have watched my writing evolve from nonsense to simply better nonsense. I hope it will always remain nonsense. If it doesn’t, then that means I am losing my sense of humor. In such event, please run me over with a Smart car while doing 2 mph and honking the horn. Never let the downs define you. Let them make you stronger. There is no success without failure. And always remember, failure is a thing, an action. You cannot be a failure. You can only fail to believe in yourself.

Lacking Inspiration

Lacking inspiration as a writer, stinks! This is something like day 3 of my dry spell. I end up thinking of these great ideas for blog posts but in the end, when I start writing, they materialize into nothing.

I’ve been stuck. I really like the people I work with, but I am not too fond of the money I am making. I’m used to making so much more and doing considerably less. Now, after the latest situation with my manager it just makes me realize that I really am not a person who can function in the white collar world (especially not at the bottom of the totem pole) and I’m not even in a white collar job. I hate politics, I hate “bosses”, I hate protocol and orders and working hard only to be shafted by the people who don’t work as hard but make love to assholes with some serious tongue. It hit me in the head today. Kissing ass is the way to get ahead and I’m way too prideful to kiss ass. I just cant do it! It’s not in me to do so. I feel defeated at the fact that I even acknowledge this. But then it leads me to thinking.

What if I look at this all wrong? What if I am just like the punk rock kid who dresses a certain way to say “Fuck the system”? I show off this display, stand on my ground, and show that I will never fall to “the man”. But who is the man? And exactly how am I affecting this motherfucker by standing here “on my own two”? I watched a movie in class one day, SLC Punk, awesome movie. One of the things that really hit me in this comedy gone…somewhere…was that the best way to fuck up the system is from within. So do I conform? Am I forced to conform?

Bobby Womack expressed that sometimes you’ve got to bring ass to get ass. Does that mean you have to kiss ass to get ass? I want ass!! Well, I want the power to control me. I don’t want to control anyone else. I want so bad to finally become an entrepreneur but I have no guidance and far too many ideas, all with no kind of backing. So what do I do now?

I do the only thing I can: I write. I write it out until there’s nothing left. But along this road I really hope I’m able to find some help, guidance, or simply get lucky along the way. I need this, I really do. I need to be able to feel again. I need to be able to have the sky be my platform, not my limit. I need to see beyond the ordinary but it’s so fucking difficult right now. I need a sign. I need new friends. New associations may lead to new avenues, but I’m so consumed with work and school that they own me. I have no time for myself. What do I do now? Huh? What now?

Writers Block Not

Writers block. It’s when you can’t write because you have nothing to talk about. Right? Or is it because you have so much all over the place that you can’t decipher the trash in order to make sense of anything? If it is, or even if it isn’t, that’s where I am right now. I just finished watching Criminal Minds and now Without A Trace is on. I’ve been wanting to write all day long but I haven’t been able to write a damn thing!

It’s Thursday now, which means that it is officially Thanksgiving!! Happy Turkey Day everyone!

Anyway, this not being able to write thing is really building up anxiety and it’s running all through my body. I’m finding it hard to keep still. I just keep moving and moving and moving. I figured when in doubt, just write about not being able to write. Needless to say, its not fucking helping!!

So what am I to do now? I’m so frustrated with this I could probably just…just…spontaneously explode and let all of my confetti fly around the room. Maybe then I’ll feel better about this crap. Why am I even still writing? I wish I could get the wheels turning. Maybe I need something. Something to drink, something to eat. Or maybe I just need to get some sleep! Lets see what I come up with in the morning. Working from 9 to 5 on Thanksgiving = sexy [so not sexy!!!]. I feel like I need to go run around the block and get some stray pitbulls to chase me around. At least that will add some substantial spark to my night.

Peace little bugs.

Be Easy

Yesterday, I rocked my job environment with one simple word: no! What the feck am I talking about?

I always bust ass when I’m at work. I hardly ever take my 15 minute breaks, I never ever ever take my lunch breaks, and if I’m in early and shit needs to get done I just do it. No questions asked!

Yesterday however was a special occasion. I got lunch on the way there, ate and decided to wander the floor for the last 15 minutes before I hit the clock. So, I’m in mid-convo with a co-worker when my manager (who is basically the stores homegrown terrorist) rudely interrupts me.

You want to come on early? There’s a lot to do.

Really lady?! I fuckin slave in here! So I replied,

No thanks, I’m good.

The look on her face was that of an inmate right before he attacks. My assistant manager, so blown away by my sheer disregard for status is smiling so hard I’m surprised her face stayed together. So the manager asks me if I was talking to her or my co-worker. My response, “No, I was talking to you. I just ate, so I’m going to let my food settle a bit before I slave”. She was not expecting that! I never kissed her ass, never fucking will. There will be no moisture on your ass from this ninja, lady.

About 15 minutes later she pages me to the office. Oh baby, am I the wrong one to try to play boss with!! So I roll in there showing just how serious I take her life.

Oye como va, chiquitita?

She begins to tell me that she’s noticed an attitude change. So I’m like with WHAT?! My work?! She says no. So now I get where she’s coming from. You want me to kiss your ass. No no, fuck that! Now my attitude kicks in as I explain to her that I bust my ass in there every day. She acknowledges such. I then ask what’s the issue with me saying no then? It’s 15 minutes I took to myself. She had no answer other than,

Well, it’s an open door policy. I just want to make sure you don’t have any issues or anything. If you have a problem with anything, just let me know.

I laughed, wanting so bad to say something stupid, but I remained calm and explained to her that if I had any major issues, I’m the last person she would have to worry about because I love to express how I really feel. It was epic. It was the first time in recent history that I kept my cool when I wanted to kick on the charm (fiery attitude I possess).

When everyone heard the story, they just laughed and said I was crazy. But my favorite line of the day came from my assistant manager as she smiled at me like a kid in a candy store and said,

Damn boy, you got some cohones on you.

Yes, yes I do. I don’t kiss ass. I show it what I’m made of. Don’t fuck with me. I do what I do and you love it.

Be easy.

This. Is. EPIC!

Okay, so right now I am quite honestly struggling to contain myself. I hope you all read my last post. If not, scroll down and go over it. Pay close attention to this part:

But large black women and I just don’t get along! It doesn’t work! I need a new shirt. First person to find me an “I hate when large black women sit next to me and squish my skinny ass on the bus” shirt will get a spotlight session, and probably some money!

Today, I spoke to a friend I met via Twitter (the reason I love twitter, you meet so many dope muthafuckin people!!), Jazzmin, and she read my last blog post and decided that it was funny enough to actually have the shirt! I took this message with a grain of salt when she said she was going to make it. I have people say things like that all the time, but it’s the idea that’s funny. Most people don’t actually follow through with it.

Now I must say, I can never ever ever ever ever take her words to be jokes or figurative language. I can’t!! It would be a completely stupid move. I can’t even joke threat, because if she laughs and says “I’ll kill you with a pickle to the eye”, you better believe I’m moving to fucking Africa to go hide amongst the zebras or something because when she says shit, she does that shit! I won’t lie, it makes me slightly afraid.

But like I said, I took it lightly. Then I got this.

When I read that my brain went into a fucking frenzy of idiocy. I even spilled some of my soup onto my pants. This was the moment! She sent over the picture. I wasn’t sure what to expect! Was I ready for this moment? What should I wear? I promised myself I wouldn’t cry!! Then it hit me.

Needless to say I was kind of like =O!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I fuckin love this shit! It’s amazing and I want to now wear it every single day and shit next to large black women on purpose and make people read the shirt. This, large black women, is retaliation for all the times you have belittled me, quite literally, with your size. I may be skinny, but I know people who make shirts that explain my anguish!! So if you’re large and black, and a woman, especially if I recognize you from a time you smashed me against a window with your fucking arms that are bigger than my legs put together, be ready for some fire via t-shirt!

Few things people randomly do have taken me by storm like this has. I can hardly contain myself over here. She’s working on getting it printed up for me on a suitable tee (since I’m slim and only wear slim tee’s). As I promised, I would give the person a Spotlight Session and money. I can and will definitely cook up an awesome Spotlight Session for her, but when I offered to pay, cool money kicked in:

Now if that isn’t what you call cool peeps, then I don’t know what the fuck is. Thanks again Jazz for the awesome fuckin shirt!! I can’t wait until I have it in my possession! I’ll be one psycho ninja on the streets, with a new shirt to add to the collection! She is killer for this one, so be sure to check her out on twitter @ThisIsJazzie and stay tuned for her Spotlight Session, as it should be coming some time soon. Stay tuned, kids!

Slim Syndrome

I’m slim. In case you haven’t seen me, take a look at the about page for a picture since I refuse to turn this into a BlackBerry photo shoot. Anyway, as I stated, I’m fucking slim! This leaves me at great disadvantage to the rest of the world. Sure, if I turn sideways I can disappear on you. I kill at hide and seek! Sure, when push comes to shove, I can walk into areas most American children can’t get into (childhood obesity is no joke!). Men and women have told me they envy my body. Being slim is cool, until you encounter large black women.

I’m known as the slim, muscular one. I’m slim, so they underestimate. It works to my advantage. Someone even calls me “Slim”. This guy (mid 50s maybe) that comes to the pharmacy at work. He calls me Slim every time he comes in. Freaking love that guy. He’s cool beans! But not all of it  is fucking rainbows and poisonous unicorns. This sucks!!

What is “this” you may ask. I’ll tell you!! Currently, I’m on a New York City bus on my way home. I’m sitting in the back two seats. I believe in a FUCKING BUFFER ZONE! I don’t sit next to people, I don’t stand next to people, in fact if there are 3 urinals, and a guy is in the middle, I look at him and shake my head since I feel this is a clear violation of the unwritten code! I then wait until he’s done so I can go to one side.  I expect the next person to take the OTHER side and not come next to me. Its the unwritten rule, people!! You just give people space. But no. No no no no no! Large black women don’t give me a break! They just see me. I’m slim, I’m light skinned, I wear glasses, and I’m neat. So they take it as an open invite. They’re logic is probably that I don’t take up that much room anyway. You’re right! I don’t. But damn, that doesn’t mean you have to take up your seat plus half of mine!

Now she’s picking at her face. I swear if pimple juice gets on me I’ll fucking wild out like Mr. Chow in The Hangover!!! “You gonna fuck on meeeee?!”

My life is great. My size is optimum. I’m slim, but I have muscle to back it up and work as my paper weight. But large black women and I just don’t get along! It doesn’t work! I need a new shirt. First person to find me an “I hate when large black women sit next to me and squish my skinny ass on the bus” shirt will get a spotlight session, and probably some money!

Help me! Please!
Amen.

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