Viva La Revolution!

Writing has eluded me for quite some time. I vow to write everyday but seem to not get quite there...almost, hmpf. Horseshoes and hand grenades, whatever. I took a vow of silence once...wow, and this is why I haven't written. I really don't have anything to write about. things that use to bug me don't and things that bug me know won't matter later. As I get older and people around me change I change with or without them but my views expand(which is changing if anyone was paying attention).  I could tell you stories about when I was younger and wanted to be Nadia Comaneci or how I was going to take over the world by not being a stereotype? I could tell you times of when I started getting into drugs....loosely, or I could tell you about a person who is still around but more of a follower than a front runner, if you get what I mean.
 After a horrible break up with, what I thought was, "The Love of My Life",  that person I began to think really hard as to what I would like to be. I thought, "If anything, I would not like to me my parents(cliche), says the child stamping her feet and making a face. I thought about what my family would say? What would my friends involved say? What would Jesus.....okay I went to far but, yeah. What Would Jesus Say? Nothing, because he's dead and the dead don't talk. I did reach an agreement with myself that from this day forward, I will no longer allow myself to miss out on life. What that meant to me was a series of unadulterated drunken crime sprees  through many pleasures that it has to offer. Where to begin? Portland Oregon!

                                                                  Portland Oregon

When I got to Portland Oregon I noticed two things:
1.) That was my first plane ride...EVER! Nearly shit my pants on take off and landing, thought we were going to fucking die.
2.) On my own, this was the second place  I have ever lived and it smelled like magic.
When I say magic I don't mean Leprechauns running through forests in search of their pot of gold or cute little fairies who assist you towards the happiest places on earth. I mean this place holds death, ya know...another kind of magic. You can smell the dead walking around sometimes at night. Waiting. Lurking, stalking. Digressing more and more.I first noticed the smell right from the plane but someone quickly corrected me by telling me that it was a paper mill some miles away. Neat. This is how the "Great NorthWestern" peeps rock it? Like L.A. yet less smog? Anywho, it smelled pretty bad like bad magic from a bad show you had to go with your kid sister and brother because you were like their guardian during the friggin day.
 Cat out of the bag.

Portland, well not really. I landed in Portland but rode towards Vancouver WA. This is where my best friend  lived at the time. There was some talk about "we" getting a place together and "we" traveling together but in the end, we were better off doing our own thang.

 I began with a goal in mind, like all mentally abused children who were told, "You know. You're not going anyplace on this earth being black and a woman,"?  Decided to not let that negative racists shit get me down anymore because I see how it effects my sisters and who they choose their time with...man! When I was younger. Things were said like," You think your White? You wanna be White! You act like a White Girl. You speak like a White girl. You dress like a White Girl," and so on. I tried on many hats in my youth but to be totally honest.? I am most at ease when I am just me. So that is who I became, slowly. Like trial and error, I battled many hair styles and outfits, eras and oddball stuff. At the end of the day, I wear what felt good and what I was in the mood for, check!. My hair, or lack thereof, ball, check! My attitude...well...
I carried around a metric assload of guilt, shame, anger, regret and few other colorful adjectives that served me none. But, I made sure I was the happy face people could depend on for a while.

I put my thinking cap on and said to myself,"Self! What do you want to be when you grow up,"? I said," Older,". Why would I want to be anything more than the sage I was destine to be? Why would I crave to be anything less than what was given to me to wield as I saw fit? And at that time, I could not tell you who I wanted to be honestly because I didn't know who I was. I was anything anyone else wanted me to be and I was that thing. I was happy when sad shit happened. I was a shoulder to cry on, a mover, a chef, a party planner, a bartender/cock-tailer, a Manager, a stylist," Hey?! Do you know any cute black girls to photo", the only black girl in the room/at a party/ on a boat/ at a metal show/ in Portland. What I'm getting at is,"There aren't a lot of black people doing the shit I was doing at the time"!
I continued to search for me.

I stripped. That's fucking A right I stripped! I'd fucking do it again if my body was as perky as it once was. It paid for school. Which is the biggest lie all strippers say but yes, I brought my homework with me sometimes. I would be the geeky girl in the back listening to...who knows what, mostly metal, doing my math homework. I get the shove from a girl that is was time for me to go on, and I went. No mystery. I told myself that I wasn't going to be a lifer like some of those girls, 40. Really honey, 40? If you haven't fucked your way to the top or whore your way into a mansion by now, give it up! 40 is fucking too old to be dancing for money. Anyway, I was going through med lab tech school when I got the news. "Your Mom is sick and she might not make it out of the hospital", shit. Needless to say, I couldn't keep school on track because I wanted to be able to have money to fly back and forth if anything happens so I quit, dumb. But I got to see her a few times before she passed away and that made me feel better about my decision.
Stripping is kind of where I found my independence, don't laugh. I wasn't one of those girl who masturbated at 13 nor was I the kind of girl who wore skimpy shit, I was a lady, with tomboy tendencies. Stripping taught me how to own my sexuality, read men( that I was not sleeping with mind you. Once you get the dick in and it's good, you night loose your fucking mind), feel sexy, empowered in my skin. I just loved my job and getting paid everyday, not a bad gig. Stripping also gave me my voice and how to use it properly. Having a silver tongue in a club will get you very far and sometimes, place you don't want to go.
 In this dizzying intellect lies great stories of triumphs and headaches or all sorts, which truly begin in...well. there you have it a strip Club. Many strip clubs, in fact, yet all in Portland. I lived in the Couv and worked in Portland, which was normal. Most people who live in the Couv work in P-Town.
Cheaper.
I had a driver and a bouncers at the door every night or day that I worked. I was careful, unlike some of the girls who shit where they ate and it ended terribly. Let's just say girl fights are lame and tedious. Lot's of hair pulling and name calling. Lot's of threats. And it all ends in tears. I was the only girl, at that time, who was not fucking someone in the bar industry while stripping. I saw the couples dwindle and fade fast in that industry. I really didn't get involved with many people in the beginning because it was scary to think that dumb bastard would come into the bar I was working and flip the fuck out. That has and will continue to happen till the end of time. Boys are dumb. Men are pillars. Men understand. Boys pout. this is the wisdom i bring fourth from the bowels of the club scene, lame. The Men who would frequent the club would bring their wives, were swingers. The Men who would bring their girlfriends, were cheating and the Men who would come alone we opportunists. This is now way the case these days or right all the time during those days but you get the general idea, simple. Just like slipping a girl a few pills and trowing her over a cliff in her car, like the old days? Anyone? If you let me. My mind will wonder all over this place and never come back.
 So, Stripping became a big part of growing up dirty. thus also began my sexual revolutions.

So much for girl power

There isn't a polite way to say this and forgive me if I mention some traits that pertain to you for this message is for the so-called girl power Fem-Nazi:

Stop! Stop trying to be polite to people you deem unworthy of your time and energy. Stop talking to people like they are three and are asking for a cookie. Stop pretending you are interested and know something of the subject when all you want to do is check your lipstick and see when the hills is coming on again. Stop making everyone's lives miserable by living amongst those who have a clue. Stop trying hard to be friends with someone who will never have your trust or respect, it is earned not given away like your virginity. Take off all that makeup because it makes you look older not hot. Humility is a word and should be used towards the mirror you stare into vastly as if it will talk back. no matter where you go, what you do, who you try to become, how you change your clothes to fit a mold foreign to your own, you will always be a blank piece of paper shifting towards nothing and gaining nothing in the meantime.
  You are less than a human and a fraction of what a woman should and can be. There is nothing redeeming about you or your flock of bobbelheads you call your close friends or what I would like to call them your fluffers. The very thought of you ever integrating into what we all call normal and respectful social interaction is appalling and frightful considering there isn't a soul withing the bunch. I pity you and your kind that walk aimlessly around desperately looking to pray on unsuspecting humans who believe you to be good and true.

The sound of your own voice

You are so intelligent that you miss the whole picture.
You are so enlightened but you sink like a stone when you open your mouth.
Your claims to have the world wrapped in such a tight nutshell of understanding that you completely discount the simplicities it has to offer which makes you a douche bag. The fact of the matter is your God -like complex has grown too big for you to handle whilst the rest of you sits idle awaiting it's next adventure. 
You make such large claims of heroism by delving into complex ares which house not and iota of you of your kind, sounds just like America to me.
You take something as large as Buddhism and trash it much like people who make claims they are a, in fact,  "Reiki Master" which takes most of your natural life to become; Buddha would not approve of your hatred of Muslims or the genocide of it's people either.
When you meet people they automatically feel like their is something missing to the picture because you are not totally there. Pacing back and fourth climbing higher and higher on the proverbial soapbox expecting everyone to clamor for the next word as prophet to subjects appointed, no one is listening much less caring.

Why can't you do right?

Years upon years of trying to prove to people you aren't a fucking idiot and yet you seem to pull off quite the opposite. Who are you? Where has that person we all knew and loved gone to? Why is it hard to just fucking do right by you and you alone? Where is this sadness you speak of that keeps you from being a decent human being? Night after night send your family into a coma if I don't care then what does it matter anymore when they don't listen? Day after day the anger appears in your head yet you know the consequences of your actions. Where does it end? Who is going to look after you when you have beaten yourself up so much that you can't take care? After you set fire to the bridges burning the help wanted sign as a reminder you may need a spark of hope aftermath the only salvation is the bodies left in your wake which aren't talking to anyone much less the dead. No one said this would be easy or there would be help along the way, it's hard work. Get your ass off your shoulders and become the person you want to be. If that person is a drug dealing, car jacking, bitch slapping, disrespectful baby momma having bastard then be that, however, we all know that is not your forte.
  As a child, did it ever occur to you a stereotype would hang it's glorious flag round your neck and choke the life out of all that held possible. . .no is the answer. What did you want to be? Who were you immolating at that time? What kept you from being all that you could and then some? I bet you would say that it's the fucking man that kept you from becoming what you've always wanted to be that isn't true and you know it. You would probably say that it was how you grew up but that's not true either. That fact is you chose to be an asshole and treat people with all the hate in your heart and disrespect you could muster while giving the rest who could have had an iota of hope the finger going 50mph. Who the hell are you, really? What do you think you deserve in this life you have contributed nothing but another person which any person, asshole, human can do and well if they put forth effort, unlike yourself. What will it take for you to wrap around that thick skull of yours, normalcy?  Parents given up, siblings could care less and the lowlifes circle the drain for your leftovers, how convenient. Almost died, beaten up, left for dead, broke, loveless, alone yet still alive and that isn't enough for you to make good on the simplest promise to a women who gave you everything; oh yeah, your Mother. What would she say about your behavior? You think she would be proud of her son who does with life what humans do to a commode?
  When you are in the worst shape of your life and the universe sends slow pictures of your life from beginning to present are those tears for your old self or is it for the good you could have done and didn't? That feeling you get in then pit of your stomach sending all messages to the hypothalamus," it's time", will you really listen? The rest of the class is doubtful but someone, somewhere is on your side, even if you aren't, rooting for the best.. .it's you. Always has been.

Are you kidding?!

Honestly?
  You think that pumping everyone full of information about a man that no longer has sexual ties with you will keep you closer to him or what he does with his time without you? The fact that you have lost is so apparent that you can't resume your same self without validating who you use to be through arguments and anxiety.
  Shame you couldn't just be yourself and figure out that you have value and people adore your true self as is. There was a period before all the ridiculous insecurities and control issues that brought up shame of self and doubt , you were a cool individual and now its' just fucking sad to see you fall down the rabbit whole naked and scared with no one to blame for the new events but yourself for perpetuating stupidity upon yourself. There was a time when, I remember when you use to, it was a great night last summer when you, and now it's just stupid acts of so-called love and grief played out in public with everyone involved. NO ONE FUCKING CARES! This small time in your life sucks and we get that what we don't get is that you can't move on and be the strong women you use to be. I don't believe you are that beaten or broken that recovery is not within your grasps. It's time to put childish things aside like an adult. Admit this sucked and you lost only to move on to a more healthier place and time for you and yours because this act is beneath you and anyone who has to endure the drama.

Blah, Blah, Blah

Complain, complain, complain all you want. Send the food back from the kitchen, tell your boyfriend how he fucks up, get even with your unhealthy relationship with your boss while he still continues to fuck his wife of three years and still hasn't told her that he knows about her affair since they got married whilst telling her he's leaving her for his true love like he promised.
  Tell me all about your sorry excuse for a car broke which down for the 50th time while you were on your way to an interview that you knew would not be the end all be all but it paid the bills. I am here to listen to all your rants and raves that concern no one but you and you alone can make a difference to this world by blogging all your hate and disappointments of your entire life.

                                                    I am here for you. . . .spill it!