But I want you to be MY bitch!!!!

I discovered recently that not only do I not know how to "play the game" with men, I do not even know what the game is. I don't know what it means to readily allow them to think that they are running shit....the art of "falling back" and "allowing men to be men". I don't know what any of that means. Nor do I know how to get there. And it's hurting me. I think it hurts my business to not totally turn Bitch on to 100. It also hurts the business to not. I hate glass ceilings. They make my skin crawl. So I get a carrot dangled in front of me...and I want to go for that carrot. Why not? No where else to go but up, right? Once I get my ambition-o-meter going, I'm full sails ahead. I'm proving my worth. I'm offering to the client what I can do for them. It was dangled in front of me to do so...or so I thought.

So then I'm told, "it's no secret what you want to do." "I know," I say, "I was being transparent to let you know you made a great choice." "Oh no, that was possibly for something for the future, you need to make sure we're good before you do that." See, I thought the fact that you were pursuing meant that it was okay. Dopey me. Fall back. And then I fall back to what? The dangling carrot was the only thing worth fuckin' with they ass in the first muthafuckin place. And so the bait and switch has occurred. And I get why, it works! Totally. I've worked for free. I took the bait. And now it's been switched. I can't get those hours back, but I can tell them to fuck themselves. Thus making me a bitch. And you see how easily it gets turned around? To have a dude flip that shit on me like the dumb bitch he was fucking with yesterday...to even STEP to me in that way, is so got damn disrespectful and wack. My boy told me the other day that he couldn't even fathom how I could work in an industry that is so blatantly misogynistic. And he's a fucking misogynist! How could I? I'mma have to think about that. But I know I'm about to write a book on it.

Low lows and high Highs

Could it be that I am attracting bi-polar people into my life because I'm bi- polar? Or is this PMS? I'm waiting in my Armenian phone pro shop on Melrose and I want to bolt out of here so I can cry. Instead I'm surfing the web, reading the Tracey McMillan book and eavesdropping on the Pinoy workers in here. Not Tagalog I've decided as if I can identify all of the dialects of the Philippino language. I don't know if I am as sad as I am lonely. Looking for a new assistant has been trying. Rehashing what a bitch I am to people isn't the worst thing that can happen, however, quite the contrary. It's pretty cool. I may throw in a therapy session before I head out with Weezy et al. And yet, I don't know why I am this emotional other than the usual chick shit at which -cranky?, is getting played.

I'm sick. I need a brain rest. How do you do that? Buddhism?

No I don't want to go the All Star game. I want to sit on a couch in Inglewood, CA and eat chili dogs with cheese on them. I wish there was onions. I'm the only person I know with a ticket to the All Star game who'd rather watch it on a couch.

tired

My feet ache. So I got reflexology.
My body aches. So I get a massage.
My head itches. So I get my hair done.
My heart aches. So i call my boo.
But now my brain...like what do I do when my brain hurts? I guess people take a vacation but I cannot. I still have to work. And I have to, because I sign up for it. I'm a glutton for punishment. I'm not quite sure what I want out of this world. I can't believe that I'm just bored. I'm tired of people needing stuff. Wanting stuff. Asking me to do stuff. Asking me to ask someone to do stuff. I just want to be. I really want to turn off this ambition button for about 10 days and go surf with my surfing buddy in, I don't know, Phuket or Manila.

But I also want to catch a cold or something so I will be forced to sit still and do nothing. I mean brain nothing. Not think of things. Not think of people coming for my neck to take my job; Not people yelling at me about a job I dont necessarily want to keep;nada. I have reached a point of exhaustion that I have never ever known. I don't see a way out. I'm going to pray on it. Right now.

BEAST MODE

My cousin has this thing he calls "BEAST MODE". He's a ballplayer. He's super focused. And when it's that time right before spring training, he goes into "Beast Mode"....meaning.....he summons all of his strength and discipline and gets on his game. He works out, he stops drinking, he leaves the girls alone, and he goes into "Beast Mode". This happens to me when I get attacked by hate. I have sung this song before. "Oh it's so hard...oh people are so mean, oh....blah blah blah." Some people have husbands to talk to about this. Some people can sit and collapse in their arms and SOMEONE will tell them it will be okay. Thank God I have friends who know me. Because when I do go into Beast Mode....it isn't pretty. All of the armor comes up and I protect myself. Hard. Like Harder than ever. I have people literally trying to take my job...daily. From every turn. I have people I once trusted everything with "too afraid to talk to me" because....God only knows...oh yes, I'm mean and berate people and am condescending. I'm not sure which came first...the chicken or the bitch. I do know that I'm actually too nice. I bring on friends who may or may not be qualified to do anything for me, but I do it, get sucked in, and next thing you know I'm out of cash and out of my mind. Well no more. I am accepting of my bitchness. Why, cuz everyone else is going to sit around and talk about how fucked up shit is and I'm actually going to do something about it. I HAVE to do it. I HAVE to fight people off of me and I HAVE to be and stay in the zone because of the sharks who are out there. It's the people who wouldn't dare take the risks I take that talk the most shit any ways. Fuckers. So I no longer have time to mix business with pleasure. It is a distraction. it takes me out of the zone....the zone I need to stay in to fight said sharks. If God, Yuv and Bo Diebel are the last friends I have on earth because I'm such a bitch then so be it. At least I know they love me for who I am. Beast mode. In it. Rocking it. I'mma make a tshirt.

1st post of 2011

I love how New Year makes you feel. It's like the Monday on steroids! For a productive girl, New Years is like coke. Up in the morning, to do lists 4 pages long, and the drip? Counting each one off until you fall into bed at 830pm! I believe, however, the first week lends it's lack of stress to the fact that people are still on vacation and just now gearing up. Getting people to move is a trial. Hell, getting people to take their Christmas trees down is hard enough! But my list of resolutions/goals is so long, it's going to be hard to get me to focus on one at a time. It makes me beyond excited. I'm up at 5am translating "Monster" into French. Why? Cause I can niggas!

1. Master the art of "patience"
2. Buy my mom the house of her dreams
3. Love without reservation or fear
4. Collect my grandfathers entire discography and own it.
5. Produce a concert with Maxwell and D'Angelo like Sam Cooke and Jackie Wilson.
6. Play "Whatcha gonna do for me?" by Chaka Khan on bass guitar.
7. Produce a film about slavery in Brazil
8. Produce my script (and finish writing it)
9. speak Portuguese fluently
10. See Machu Pichu with my grandmother

So these are the 10 things I want to do before I die....but that don't mean I can't get started on them all this year. Prosperity and enrichment people! That's what the new year is all about for me! Let's focus and get on the grind. Weed out all of the people who want shit too easy. They are lazy and will be leeching off of your energy and motivation. NOTHING worthwhile is easy. Don't get it twisted.

Happy New Year!

Teena Marie - Portuguese Love (Live In London 2010)

Gone way too soon. Still dumbfounded by this. I remember when I changed my name spelling in 3rd grade to Teena cause it was so much cooler than Tina. I was introduced to Rick James through Teena Marie if you can believe that. I just thought Portuguese people were black...in fact her voice was proof. She HAD to be. Of course none of that matters and all I know is it's a sad sad day. 2010 has just about wiped me out in deaths...musicians. I'm writing Jet now about my grandfathers Obit...half steppers. Oh Teena.....

FASTING

I'm fasting...in this overpriced room and a fly has found himself in my room. I want to choke him. I won't be able to sleep with him landing on me every 15 seconds. And I MUST sleep after that horrifying colonic....Jesus....Lord Jesus....I have to call him! I guess the first part is pain and then I should feel better later....but my goodness....I'm an exhausted mess. It didn't help that they were playing Sara McLachlans fucking Christmas album over the speakers. Seriously? I'm going to make them play Adele tomorrow I swear. I mean seriously. Do I really want to hear all of that? I'm focusing on not jumping off of the table and running full speed...anywhere. What possess someone to do THAT job? I mean, God bless her for doing it...she's a Saint. I'm literally full of shit and she's helping me exercise the demons! Amazing. What WILL they think of next? Doesn't help that I cried like a little beeyatch neither...but oh well. Sometimes when you purge yourself it hurts!