XMas Presents/Presence

 

When things aren't perfect, we forget that they can be.

This year, my whole family couldn't be together because we couldn't be together. The individual reasons are important because they all exist -- each one of these reasons was big enough to keep us apart. Each of these reasons are to blame for keeping my from one big Christmas under one big tree everyone forgets to compliment due to the gross amount of gifts beneath it. These reasons are what I work against every day I succeed in opening my eyes. The worst part about tough times is that you fail to see it could be worse. & if you do understand it could be worst, it makes you insensitive... which could be worse.

I don't know what it is about me, but people love me. Especially when they wish they wouldn't. I've heard it attributed to my being an inclusive Aries, but maybe it's because I love them, first. I hate that feeling, when you walk in a room and you worry what a person thinks of you --so I've let that feeling go. Every time I walk in a room I smile. I'm me and happy to be such. You never need to wonder what people think of you, because you probably already know. We see our "flaws" the clearest --the defining factor is if YOU consider it a flaw. The things we think about ourselves are what hinder us most. Once you've given up on yourself, you've lost. I love me & I don't give a f*ck how anyone feels about it. & I don't concern myself with anyone else... so I have no feelings about anyone else. I be chillin.

#Fashion via Hani Hulu

Follow Hani at @BabyKhosh on Twitter & Instagram

        I get along with most anyone. Living at Loyola during the summer was always one of my greatest pleasures. I enjoyed the summer schedule more than the regular semester, so during the break between my Junior and Senior years, I had the pleasure of living with Hanyeh Khoshnevisan, now known as Hani Hulu, Fashion specialist for JWWWD Magazine.

         Religion is a weird topic. It's so heavy that I sometimes feel it becomes burdensome. Now, I don't have any particular feelings about religions other than my own (how can you judge what you don't know), but it doesn't take long to realize Hanyeh is Muslim - dope headwrap to match. If you take a moment to read her blog, my favorite part is where she speaks on being a Muslim woman, "I like to prove we are not oppressed or less than others just because we are Muslim or because we cover. In reality, we are among the strongest women around." Sometimes, when I see a girl who covers, I try to tell them about Hani and give them our card. One girl I see on my commute to work semi-ignores me now. I say "Hi" on purpose *shrugs* I don't care. I don't have much real live conversation with Hani (or anyone else) so I didn't want to butcher the word "hijab" & I'm afraid she might have checked me off as an idiot.  I know I'm fairly ignorant of the details of that side of the world, but I do know we're human. As much as we need to teach each other, we need to be willing to learn. Hani is here just as much for girls like her as she is for those who have no real knowledge of her culture. I'm honored to introduce Hani Hulu as JWWWD Magazine's official Fashion Specialist (I still hate the word blogger & Hani deserves a fancy title).

#HowTo Give a Half-F*ck

Reversible, leather and fur pull over, Calvin Klein Collection

It was... exactly what the f*ck it was. I had to get on the F train to get to a part of Long Island I had originally thought was Queens. Then I was standing at the wrong bus stop (let's not talk about my not having a vehicle. This is why I wanted to live in Manhattan). Eventually, I was supposed to walk 1.7 miles to an address in the middle of darkness, on the other side of a graveyard. It was f*ckin brilliant. I sat on the N6 debating meeting Shannon in a parking lot in the dark, and swiftly threw my house key between my fingers. "I'm not going out like that," I thought to my self, "he might, tho."

I loved a girl named Michelle once. (Not that way pervs -___-) Not so secretly, my brother had a thing for strippers *shrugs* & might I add, they were pretty dope girls. Besides getting paid to take their clothes off, they were good girls. They loved my brother because my brother (a sucker for love like myself) loved them back. Since I was too young to know about things like that, I knew far too much. Michelle was my favorite because she'd ride me around in her Mazda 6 and play Mya's Fear of Flying (and she let me pick my favorite song "Lie detector" and would sing the lyrics with me, "I became a freak under the sheets, put his ass to sleep. Creep into the kitchen. Got the remedy. It's call the lie detector, slipped it in his drink. Brought it to is bedside, said take a sip of this and don't think." She allowed me to be a person. That was the first time I understood individuality. Michelle didn't have the best family history. But she had great hair, a fabulous smile, a tight ass and a heart unlike any other I've ever felt. One time, Michelle's car ran out of gas on our way home from the movies. We had to walk to to a gas station in the dark (Attelboro, Massachusetts had not one cab, I promise).

"If you're ever walking somewhere alone," she taught me, "Hold your keys like this." She only had to show me once. As she held my left hand, I took my keys out of my pocket with  my right and adjusted them like she had showed me. I didn't question Michelle. I knew where she came from. But what I knew more was that she was still breathing. 

Clothing by SHANWEAR.com

        I'm un-f*cking-stoppable. Not to be f*cked with. I joined Model Mayhem on October 3rd; 9 days ago. Nothing fancy. Just real shit about my not really being a model. I like the model "thing" though, but I'm 5'2. Either no one is going to hire me, or only people who truly know what the fuck they're doing will fuck with me. As I told you all on on my post yesterday, I'm already super booked *stands and ovate my damned self* with my first shoot happening yesterday, and my first show on October 23rd (I'LL INSERT THE EVENT LINK SOON!). On my way to the shoot, I met a girl named Stephanie (spell it how you spell it lol) and we talked about not working for "The Man" anymore. Part of moving forward is simply to do. If you're not doing nothing is happening. You can't expect to move forward without any input on your part. The difficult part, though, comes in defining what exactly to do. In a "Public Relations/Marketing" degree saturated world (don't take offense, I'm Communications, but I'm more of a genius than all of you *promises*), it's tough to decipher what should  be done from what is being done. The key, is new shit. What you all want is new shit. *shrugs* It doesn't take schooling to know that. Books can guide you but your heart defines you, chica. The corazón is what [brings] us home. (HOV is everything.) 

THE ANSWER: 

You know how to figure out what to do next? Do everything in the order of what makes you happiest. Go where you're most comfortable.

       I only know half of why I'm doing this: I need to. I'm on an Oprah trip & still haven't decided against being on the cover of every issue of whatever it is I decide to do.  What I do, is I sell myself. I am the product. I am all I have. I can't be anything else. & those of you how fuck with me feel that. I appreciate it. I'm just here to provide a little bit of encouragement, so that you know what I'm doing and understand that you have the power to do as well. 

Clothing by SHANWEAR.com

       I broke all the rules cut the shoot early. Shannon and I took a break in shooting to spread love (the Brooklyn way?) and had amazing conversation. He provided most of everything: Make-up, an extra strapless bra (because I forgot mine), all the attire minus the shoes, but he had some there in case I didn't bring any. Most everything was new, still in the casing and had the tags on it. Instead of pay, he gives models a DVD of their retouched images and multiple outfits to keep. I was super rude when he asked my nationality, but had embroidered a tee and pair of panties for me. & I'm Dominican, so you know how ginormous my pride is. My first 2 outfits where "Asian" inspired (silk, intricate patters & traditional cuts). There was a lace top with skirt combo that went next. Then, My ass was all out in my Dominican thong. I got comfortable to do all that bar stool, ratchet BS (you won't be seeing those :) btw)  I had three outfits left, but I ended the shoot. The next outfit was a sexy, all black sheer & lace combo. Mask. Gloves. Everything, man. Unfortunately, the ensemble called for no panties. "Can I put my other panties back on?" I had asked. They'd have gone well, they were just black, but Shannon insisted it simply wasn't the same. So... I had to be a disappointment and tell him I couldn't take anymore shots. The Dominican thong was EVERYTHING, but I simply can't put my bare vagina on film. I simply can't.

Clothing by SHANWEAR.com

"Some people don't look at the whole picture," Shannon explained. After I said no, we encountered a little bit of awkward silence, but I helped him straighten up and clean. He ended up giving me a lift home and I think we got a lot closer simply because of my saying no. "It's tough to say no," I'd explained. I could have easily gone spread eagle and, Shannon can attest, once I get comfortable, I get the job done, but I have to set limits for myself. He'd told me about other model who have mangers/boyfriends who try to enforce those limits for them and I understand. Sometimes, it helps to have people around you who make you better than you are. It's not the reason I have my brother's and mother's names tattoo'd on me, but it's a benefit of it. People who watch over you lift you up. But, there may come a time when it's just you... then what? 

"I'm so sorry," I apologized to Shannon. 

"It's alright. I'm not sure what made you say no, but  I saw you got serious so I stopped pushing."

"My brother," I explained and had him focus on an example he'd shown me., "would have already whooped my ass for the pictures I took today. I can't do the others." I'm #NotBoutThatLife *shrugs*

 Shannon smiled. I think he respects me. You all know how much I love that shit :)

          Define your own limitations.  When I got home, I posted my vagina on Facebook. *shrugs* It was really Instagram, and that goes to my Twitter as well: My vagina is all over the web, now.  Honestly, I figured this picture wasn't so bad taking into account what I didn't shoot. The whole time, I had to sit and consider what was okay to shoot and what wasn't. This was my first shoot yall. & The truth is, if you're okay with doing certain things, who ever can make money off of it will gladly assist you. "She was okay with that," Shannon would say as he tried to provide me comfort in what other models had shot. That's fine. But I realized that those girls aren't me. I have to have a limit somewhere. I did do topless. Reason: They look terrible. I kinda just wanted to see (but didnt want to look). No one's buying those. *shrugs* he shots from behind look #dope tho.   I was on the phone with another photographer/promoter the other night "What would you say your flaw is?" he asked.  

"My breasts, I guess," I replied. "I don't care, tho." 

"Ok. So tell me this, how many guys have you been with?"

"Enough," I answered. He laughed. 

"Ok. So, out of those guys you've been with, how many complained about your breasts?"

Clothing by SHANWEAR.com

       You've got to hold your head high. That's all it is, really. We're our own worst enemies (and I'm not the first to say that). What we think our flaws are are only our flaws once we've allowed them to be. We try to see ourselves through forgeign eyes and pick out whatever you can pick out. We're mean to ourselves. When I got off the F, I stood next to two very pretty girls at a bus stop. Now, I could say they're pretty because I hope they read (because I hope they do) but I say they're pretty because they are (and I hope they know). When I first walked up to them --a fabulous hot mess in all-black-everything, heels and fur), I remembered what I was wearing. I don't know what the hell I looked like, but I felt myself itching. That's when you try to figure out what people see. You watch how they look at you. If they smile. If they stare. If they look you up and down. You try to figure out what they're thinking but... eventually, you have to realize you'll never know. And who gives a f*ck? I haven't quite figured out how to manage that as a normal person, but as ELLA, i just suck it up and give people my card. I allow everyone additional time to judge/love.

"What makes you different from other models?" the photographer/promoter asked. 

"What makes me different, is I actually love myself for exactly who I am."

 

         I encourage you all to do the same. I went to sleep last night thinking about how to explain my vagina being on the internet (featuring my ass soon enough).  What people think doesn't matter unless it's damaging. Granted, I don't give a fuck who likes my photos or not, but there won't be photos of my (bare) vagina for you to judge. We can all do what we want, you've just go to decide what's okay for  you. Bravo to the ladies with the guts to bare all that, more so the luxury to do so. I simply can't. Too many eyes on me.  Today, I decide the only way to do it was to put more lipstick on and smile. 

F*ck it. At least half of it. I still look good ;) *brushes shoulders off*

Clothing by SHANWEAR.com

Beyoncé at 16 - #MESSAGE

1. Put God first

2. Pray every night

3. Work hard

4. Stay humble

5. Don't listen to haters

A Couple Rhymes.

Almost didn't post this, because... I'm shier than I seem. Still, I fight myself in honor of myself. & If I'ma do it, I suppose I gotta do it legendary. 

PS: I'm the hottest mess in the world. But I'm happy & I sleep well at night. 

#FuckWitIt

Talk #1

Watch ELLA in motion at:

Youtube.com/ELLA4Presidents

Super Ella

Feel free to hate me in motion. 

Youtube.com/Ella4Presidents

Everyone Knows.

        I didn't even know I wanted to talk about it until I saw the picture to the right. I spend my days doing the usual, being genuine. I check my Facebook to ignore my friends, tweet dope shit on Twitter to flutter the birds and online shop for shit I can't afford. My Tumblr tumbles whatever is linked and I roll with it. Whenever the mood strikes me, I Pin the dopest shit I can find on the my dope array of Pintrest boards or record whatever the fuck I feel like on my Youtube. Frankly, I don't give a damn what you all want to see. I do what I wanna do. (This is JWWWD: The Online Magaizine where we do #JustWhatWeWannaDo  after all. And, ask the team, I don't bullshit when I say it. ) I don't speak to anyone really, but I'm online all day. If you need me you can find me. 

       I need people to stay the fuck out my phone because I really don't have time to devote to nothing. I'm 24. I've got to get rich soon. Most conversation is pointless. You already know how the other person feels. When you have the conversation, you're either just insecure and trying to confirm what you think, or you're ready for battle and need to expose that person's folly. It seems most conversation we take part in is either to applaud ourselves or bash an enemy. We only join forces with those who like the same things we do or hate the same things we do. After a difference of opinion, most people turn away and make no further effort. I understand, because when a conversation goes sour, I also leave it out to dry. But the difference between myself and the next person is that I've stopped putting in effort from the very beginning. 

         Everybody is right. As individuals, we're trapped in our own minds. As a species, we're blessed enough to be able to communicate and solve problems peacefully --although some would prefer a more beastly, kingly approach --kill the males; rape the women. I'm tired of stress and drama.  I watched myself shed 4 tears recently, wiped them and laughed at myself. This world is ruthless, it doesn't give a fuck about what comes out of my eyes or what's gone into them. People can only see what they see. They only feel what they feel. I'm always right for myself, too. I learned long ago not to argue with fools.  Then I learned the relation of fools and love and veered from that as well. "You got a man?" he asked me. I'd watched him perform earlier that night, not sure who he was but tonight he was just with the band. 

         "You here to get women?" I asked him.

         "Well, I mean. If it happens..." 

       "I'm here to listen to music. Enjoy your night," I said as I chucked the deuce over my head and walked to my place by the stage. No one ever asks me how I'm feeling. How my day is going. If I'm feeling healthy. If my heart has healed. No one asks, so I can only assume no one cares. & until they start to act like it, I'll assume I'm correct. 

           I feel broken down everyday. Somehow I manage to smile. I don't know how I do it. Maybe that's why I've been feeling NaS's Life is Good so heavily. No matter what, life is good. It was my brother's 35th birthday on Tuesday the 24th. It was also ELLATHOUGHT.com's 2-year anniversary. I actually am looking into providing creative services. I'm into online advertising --especially in creating websites. Check out my new "Money G Thousand" sit by clicking here... might transfer PresidentElla.com over to it. I haven't decided yet & I just go with what makes my heart smile & hope you all enjoy it along with me. Also worked on EastBrookFamilia.com so check it out. I think the site looks dope. Lemme know how I did! (& if you're interested in one of your own. #Work) I understand that ELLATHOUGHT.com is not conventional, nor will it ever be. I'm just not phony enough. This blog is simply a way to keep me true to that. I plan on doing everything I say if I haven't already done it. If you think you have ambition, you've never had a conversation with me. I'll inspire God when I get there, I promise. You see, I can't fail. Not only because I don't want to or because I'm too skilled, but because I've found an inner peace some call God, others call  by other names, but I call my Self. 

             Not only do I know who I am, but everybody else gets  the gist of it, too. Typically, when I walk in a room, sit down to a meeting or approach a mic, people look at me like a chump. After a couple of minutes, they still don't know who I am, but they know what I'm not. I am not the average. Most of the people you've met are --especially the best of them. The wave of mediocrity has washed over even the most potentially dope. The truly fantastic are few and far between. Please don't take this as conceit, but I'm one of them. I'd be a sin to deny my God-given ability. I'm not saying that I'm better than anyone, I'm just saying that I know who I am. And I'm damned sure the best at that. 

             I don't mad anymore, I get a little flustered, a little stressed. I make sure I keep those feelings at the bare minimum. I don't stop saying how I feel and I never hold back truth, I just refuse to take part in negativity. I don't keep myself in spaces where there's too much negativity and the possibility of "hate" --FYI: hate is contagious, keep your distance. I went to the Extraordinary Words Open Mic on Monday to try out new pieces. When I arrived, I was greeted by familiar faces which made the surrounding a lot more comfortable. Regardless, the conversation got a little uncomfortable.  My favorite topic is celebrity. I find celebrities interesting, not because of what they do, but of how people sit around and talk about them like they know them. (You can count on me to talk about Mr. Carter in that fashion.) What's more interesting is how people speak upon celebrities like they've met them and sat down for a conversation with them. We all know most of the shit that goes on in famous peoples lives --whether on purpose or not, whether we like it or not. I think our biggest folly is when we decide that what we've heard is not only the truth, but full truth. Just because you hear a story, doesn't mean that's all of it. And just because a person speaks and you can hear it, doesn't mean they were speaking to you. have you told your best friends everything you've ever done? Be honest. Why would you think you know Kanye West inside and out? 

          Everyone's on a quest to figure out who they are, but they need to understand a little better who they are not. You are not anyone else. So before you go ahead and decide you know the truth about that person and their situation, you need to step back and remember you only know your business. & if you're busy minding someone else's, your business is bound to fuck up. People need to worry about themselves more. If we each took responsibility for our own actions, it wouldn't fall on anyone to have to carry the rest.  We're each individuals and need to begin to understand that. Bobby and Juicy Stone performed "Stay Out My Phone" at The Pyramid Club last night, but we really need a "Stay Out My Business" single for the general public. I sat at a table with two people I didn't know talking about two people none of us had met. I simply couldn't get off that point. "Kobe and Kanye are arrogant," was the statement. I say, I don't know them. I have no experience with them. And they aren't in the room to defend themselves, so the conversation is dumb and walking the thin line between conversation and hate. How can I judge a 30-something year old man off 30-minutes of what I saw? You don't know people... and that's okay. 

        "So if I feel some way about him, I should sit here and say nothing?" I was asked. Yes. I believe so. I believe what you think about another person doesn't f*ckin matter, especially when you've never met him and never will. Actually... the only thing that matters is the negative energy you spew every time you voice your "opinion" of things. If you don't like something, don't deal with it. Don't like the music? Don't listen. Don't like the food? Don't eat it. Don't like the show? Don't watch it --I don't own a TV and pretty much only play Jay-Z and Beyoncé. You don't have to ingest everything out there. You keep taking in shit you don't need, you'll keep spitting it back out. We don't need that in this world. Perhaps if you prayed for Kobe while he was on that stand, about to lose his life, it would reach God and help change him. Instead, you sit back with judgment. Your commentary does nothing. And granted, you could do nothing to stop Kanye from doing rockstar shit, but you can pray that it makes him happy, but that he remains sane and safe. You can make an effort to put positive energy into the world. 

        Smiling isn't always easy, but someone's gotta do it.  The world is tough, but you've got to power through it. Do not be swayed or you will fall over. Plant your feet into the ground and take your stand. If you're not fighting for what is yours --your dreams, your goals, your love -- then who is? If you're not making the effort to be happy, you never will be. You can't always count on people to please you --their purpose is not to please you, even if they are entertainment. Actors and Actresses entertain us, but the best of them find their own joy in performing. It's not about me or you unless it's about me or you. 

          This life is yours, you decide how you'll live it. Make your own choices and weigh them so that the outcome has more positive than negative. And allow others to make their own choices. If you do not agree with them, consider it a lesson learned for you. But you've got to let every man try and fail for themselves because when it comes time for your trials, no one is going to go to war for you. We each fight our own battles here. On judgement day, we each face whatever the fuck that's gonna be like for ourselves. Pray for your brothers and sisters. Keep them in your hearts, not on your backs. It is a blessing to be able to help another --if you can, you should because greed will only take you under, but we are not meant to carry or depend on others for too long or you'll become worthless. Immobile. Teach a man to fish. Walk on your own feet and use your own hands because everybody else can, too. & when the next person sees your worth, they'll recognize it. Especially if they pretend not to. 

Live your own life, today. 

ELLA <3 

This Might be About Sex.

On 7.13.11 I thought... 

      I'm actually not a good person. That's why I tell my mom not to worry about me. Bad things never happen to bad people.  Sometimes, I wonder if everyone out there is proud of their every action. Am I the only one who's made mistakes? Im-fuckin-possible. And that's where my big head comes from -my head size is actually medium. Found that out today. --I'm not a bad fuckin kid. I turned out a-okay. 

      It's why I don't pity anyone. I've made it up in my mind that people decide their path of their lives. I remember when I did it. It was the day I decided to fill out the papers and apply for private school. I unconsciously made the decision that I no longer gave a fuck about other people. It was 8th grade. And I was about to lose all my friends to be the new girl at this all-white school (across the street from the all-black school. I knew where I was going. *wink*) But I did it anyway. It was the year me, Crystal and Sabrina really became friends. That was our summer. It's like... the first official summer of the Boooyyss (i hate insiders, but I had to here.) They were my best friends --and they still are. We didn't... talk about it lol. We kept it movin like people do. We didn't hang out for a while. & then I came back around and Crystal had lost her virginity. I had to do it too. I wanted know how it felt. Fucking sex?  I needed to know. I wanna do it, I decided. Say what you want. I just wanted to know. It was curiosity that fucked Pandora. 

       I liked the sensation, I'm human... but I considered it a base act. It was something that was done for procreation purposes, it just happened to feel good if done the right way.  Sex never really mattered to me.  I mean... Liked when it was good... but it didn't hold much importance to me in life. It was there. When I had a boyfriend, it was done. Or it wasn't. Either way, we'd live. Truth be told, sex didn't get "emotional" for me until later in life. Like.. not too long ago, actually. I've only really emotionally connected with like... lol... guys were a joke. I once had a list in my diary of the boys I liked at the moment (but with nick names). And my boyfriend saw it. And he cried. And I laughed. I was evil. I really was. And I gave him the "why are you looking through my things," and went about my business. I apologized a little bit, but I probably called Crystal later and laughed. And please remember, I  I loved this boy. I actually did. But I didn't know how to show that. He was my first real boyfriend, and he let me walk all. over. him. I could treat him how I wanted. He gave me what I wanted. Did what I wanted. When I wanted. How I wanted. If I wanted. I don't know what it was. He was cute. Too cute even.  

I'm a manipulator. Someone called me that once. And it hurt because it was true. (lmfao). 

      Going to private school was my first truly selfish act. I knew we didn't have enough to pay for it. I knew my mother would have to work hard. I appreciated it, but I didn't feel bad. I mean... that's my mom. What was she supposed to say when her daughter says she wants to go to private school? No? Not my mother. Not the mother who's basement I had to clean out last summer of the biology books from 1975 that she had kept "just in case" (which she def put right in the shed in the backyard. She's insane).

       When it came to school, I could have anything I wanted. I learned that early and abused it frequently. I went to all my school dances and needed an outfit. I needed shopping,  man. It's what has always relaxed me. I didn't really abuse her. I mean, I could only abuse her so far. I didn't shop malls, I shopped Salvation Army. So when I ran up a tab, it's cuz my stuff came to like.... $40. It was a lot for us. I had half a heart. I never liked when she spent anything over $100. That extra digit hurts when you have nothing. That might be chump change now, but fuck. The things I could do with $100, I would think. And I wasn't doin shit really. I would go into stores and steal another $100 worth so it seemed like I was doing damage. I was a bad person.  That shits not cool. And while I feel remorse for things like that, I don't regret it. Was stealing those things worth it? Yes, I believe so. I believe it was the things that made me cool. I believe that without those "things" I wouldn't have been perceived as "cool" by my peers. But I never wanted to be too cool. I was good with being cool enough. I had (and have) pretty friends. A boy likes me here and there. I was chillin.  But I was still super smart. But I was supercool, at least I thought so. 

        I know you might not believe it, but... I didn't have any feelings towards it. Sometimes I'm afraid of giving my "sob" story because it's easy to feel bad for me, but really --no one should. We went through hard times because that's what happens. That's what needed to happen for us to get to where we are. We're a strong bunch. I don't know the things my brother and sister must have gone through. Because apparently, I had it a lot easier. So, here's the spoiled brat telling her story.

    Part of me just wanted to prove I was smart. That I could do it. "If I get in, I want a diamond ring," I told my mom. I was 15. The mouth on this kid, huh? I've never been easily satisfied. And so I passed the exam. And so my mother gave me the ring off her finger. If you don't know, that's my boo, right there. We've come a long way, she and I, but she put a ring on it early.  I didn't notice it then, but she'd do anything for me. I got everything I wanted --which wasn't much more than a pair of whites when the school year started. I'd have to buy my own when the summer hit. Then I went to private school and saw my first real-live labels. And got them by any means necessary . With help from the girls who wished they were me. That's what I failed to notice in high school. In reality, they all wanted to be me. Here I was with this complex about my dark skin and my coarse hair and there was beauty underneath there. I just never took the time to care for myself. Which is expected and fine, I was just a kid. I'm glad I had all my esteem issues when I did. Get that shit out the way. I'm not sure what does it to us.

"Ma, did I cry when you dropped me off at kindergarten?"

"No... I... No... I don't think so," she answered.

"Did I ever cry when you dropped me off anywhere?" I asked laughin. She's funny. She never knows nothin for certain.

"No. Tu estaba loca por get rid of me," she laughed back.  I was just crazy to get out the house for real. I wasn't a clingy child. I was always good everywhere. With everybody. Everyone has always loved me. Like... people don't not like me. They might not like me, but they know that they have no reason not  to like me. Carl said he didn't like me cuz I thought I knew everything. But then he realized I did. Even when I was younger. The teachers loved me cuz I did my work. The troublemakers loved me cuz I didn't snitch. The snitches loved me cuz everyone else loved me & they follow the crowd. I wasn't pretty. I wasn't fly. I was just me. I was smart but I was cool ( I like to think). I didn't start any trouble. I didn't annoy the boys. I was just there. Everyone knew me, but only certain people really knew me. I was the black girl who hung around with whoever I was with at the moment --there weren't a lot of dark skinned girls in Central Falls when I was livin there.

That's why I don't live there anymore. I don't live anywhere.

 I own the world now. 

Speak Your Truths.

I am my greatest foe and my only friend.

I like life with just me. I moved to Brooklyn in May for a couple of reasons. The most prominent though, is that I needed to move somewhere --anywhere-- before the weather got warm enough for my seasonal stalker to resume his post at my front door. Literally.

Niggas don't understand and I don't have the patience to train them. 

It's funny how one finds love when you're not looking. It's like the earring you dropped behind the dresser. You look everywhere but there --and you might even looked there --but nothing comes of your search. If you're lucky, you come across other lost items --perhaps even an earring, but the wrong one. Perhaps an earring that doesn't belong to you. You move the bed and even look under the rug, but it's not until you go to sweep up that you move the dresser and find what you're looking for. 

This is how love gets lost and found. 

I've been having a tough time. I'm proud to say, I've continued to listening to my heart, but the more I mind my own desires, the more I seem to disrupt the expectations of others. Sometimes, it feels like I'm letting people down because I can't always be where they want me to be. But then, when the 1st of the month comes around, rent seems to come out of my bank account only. Some goes for groceries. And the $104 monthly for my metro card. And the Sprint bill that's never as cheap as the sales guy fibbed it would be.   And I don't know how many more rounds of shots Duchess needs, but each veterinarian visit gets more expensive. I haven't been to a doctor in forever because, for some reason, my insurance fucked up and Harlem Hospital wants $300 plus interest because a woman put a fancy spoon and two fingers in my vagina then sent me on my way. $300 for that?! So fuck that prescription. Sex is expensive & I currently can't afford it. Then, after all the bills are paid,  I gotta satisfy my need for G's. I  Gucci as much as possible. 

I got bills out this muthafucka. 

Everybody's doing the same shit as the next guy, hoping to blow up like the next guy. People re-create the same-ass creations, host the same-ass events, write the same-ass books, wear the same-ass shit, sing the same-ass hooks and expect to get rich. Frankly, I'm only going to buy but so many white-tees.... but some niggas are still on that same-old nigga shit. I can't lie, whatever these fake ballers are paying on car notes, I spend on shoes. I prefer to buy the whole car, as you should and I'm not ready for the extra expense. Not to mention, I really don't have anywhere to go that I can't reach by train. The car idea has only begun to come into the front of my mind because I can't travel with Duchess. And other people seem to like to ask. What is it your business how I move around if you're not moving me?

I don't want to be anywhere without the people I love.

 It's tough being a female. I can't hang around females whose life stories I'm unfamiliar with. It's also tough being too familiar with females because their stories get transferred to you. The only option is to separate yourself and hope the loneliness doesn't take a toll. It's tough when the eldest of elders is no longer around, because that leaves the youth to guide leaders, but Jeremiah was young when God sent him to spread the word without fear. Spiritually, it's tough being a human. It's tough being a being. Randomly relevant shit, it's tough having a Pit Bull. People only want to have conversation about whether or not my puppy will turn on me. If not about that, then about training her to fight.  I simply tell them she'll never learn to fight, but we're working on "sit", "stay" and "kill". I might be joking, but when they take a look at her teeth, they won't want to find out first hand. They don't care about us, really. If Duchess were going to attack me, who'd save me? But if you try me, Duchess will tear your fuckin head off.  Now, that I know.

I've begun to understand love. 

What people don't understand is that when I love, I love. I've stopped saying it though because people don't react right. When people think/know you love them, they  try to chain you to them --love is precious and perishable: They have no idea that, untended, love rots. Love must be, like any other thing that grows, cared for. It needs to be sowed, protected and nourished. It needs patience. It needs complete adoration. My mother and I planted tomato plants earlier this summer. While her garden at home is overflowing with ripe fruit, my plant gave off a flower or two and then retreated. I've realized that sometimes, in order for something to flourish and give you what you desire, you need to give everything you can without expecting anything back. So while my plants won't blossom as planned, I continue to water them. Now, I've just got to get the weeds from around them. The more I shower my plants with what they need to grow, the more other plants will sprout around them --sucking the life from mine. Love is giving and protection --with no reciprocation expected. Still, I know that one day, my garden and everything in it will give the most beautiful flowers known to man... especially me.  

I want to be a woman. 

I want to stay home and take care of home.  I want wake up early and make breakfast for a gang of spoiled brats who look just like their father and have attitudes like me. I want to pack lunches and walk them school. I want clean every crevice of my home because I have the time and it is mine and when my husband comes home after a long day of whatever it is he loves to do, he'll feel completely comfortable in what's ours. I want to make him dinner and serve him first. I want to... do the things a woman used to be supposed to do, but now we just complain and say, "You have legs, don't you?". I want to be the best versions of everything "woman" translates into: daughter, sister, wife, mother. I am not all of these yet, but I try with the best effort in my heart to be those things regardless if someone else wants to call me them. There are days, like today, when I gladly neglect the entire world so that I can kiss Duchess on the forehead every time I walk by her because she deserves it (as do I). I needed to stay in the house today and cook myself a meal --because no one else will. I can't fail to care for myself.  I feed myself. & just like I want a man who'll change my tires and take out the trash, that man will want a woman who cooks, cleans and irons. It makes no sense to have so many expectations of another person without having cultivated the skills and characteristics you're bringing to the table. I don't need to be out running the streets. That's not going to teach me to cook for my children.

I am a straight woman. I don't have any other perspective. 

Some women have never had a chair pulled out for them and most men are collecting unemployment. Everyone is a superstar or a teenage parent or both. There is little or no value for family, today. Immediate family, to be exact. All kids hate their parents & their boyfriends/girlfriends seem to, too. I just feel like the natural balance of man-woman-child has been disrupted to the point where they can neither exist together nor separately. I run into people who, for whatever their personal reasons are, like to argue that I'll never find a man to my liking. Meanwhile, all they want me to do is party all night and watch reality TV. If I like to cook, sew, knit or garden I'm automatically part of a mystical few who embrace their womanhood. 

I am a person of my own defining.

Sometimes, we involve ourselves with people who find it in their court to decide who we are and what we're about --not matter how much we tell them not to. If you don't fit into someone's prescribed boxes, they'll create one for you. I spend my nights plotting out the destruction of boxes and my days completing the steps outlined. Thus far, I've had nothing but success. Working with the magazine has been challenging as I maintain myself no matter how much people want to use me. No one knows me anymore, nor do they want to. When people meet me, the first thing that say is "I need a feature," or "Can you write about me?" No one care what my magazine is about really. They want me to tell them how many readers I can fool into buying their shit. How many people I can lure to their events. But I won't do that. ELLATHOUGHT.com is about my thoughts. About becoming a woman by having been that the entire time. It is about the growth of an individual. It is about understanding who you are as a person  by reading the story of my journey. It's about being real. It's about how it was much more important for me to spend the day with those who needed me rather than those who needed my promotion --because I am, after all a magazine, not a promotion company. I've had to come to terms with myself and let go of everyone and everything trying to define me for me and what they think I should be doing because it could help them. ELLATHOUGHT.com is about ELLA incase you didn't read what you typed/clicked.

People want you to give. Just you. 

Seems like everyone is the owner/ceo/founder of something or other. Everyone is talented. Everyone can do everything and knows everything --everything except fill roles. No one wants to be who they are or what they are. People change their wardrobes, tastes in music and diets simply to be "different". What's worse (and most detrimental, in my opinion) is our failure to fit into the roles of woman and man. Most frightening, though, are those who fail to understand the meaning of friendship. Friends are not jealous nor territorial. Friends need nothing but to know that you are safe and happy. A friend will do whatever is in his/her power to make you feel comfortable and welcome.  I friend will pray for you. I'm not going to follow the corporate model that's lead to the corruption and destruction of this country. If I can't trust someone as a friend, I can't do business with them either. If you don't trust someone, you don't trust them.

I believe we need to reevaluate our relations with people.

You need to decide, for once and for all, what you expect from others and what others can expect from you. You should never agree to giving more than you can or something you simply do not offer. For example JWWWDMagazine is not a promotional company unless hired to do so.It is a magazine for pure enjoyment and entertainment. It is where real people live their lives and follow their dreams and, if the only way you'll read it is if it benefits you, then you lack understanding of how any small bit of good in the world is good for all of us.  Time is money and I'm not sure who people think they are to deserve so much pro-bono work without just cause. Everyone seems to think it's okay to work for free but 300 years of someone else's labor was enough for me to know that slavery ain't for me. I'm not sure why others think it should be okay for me. If I am not hired to work, I have not been hired to work. That is how it will continue to be. I actually like my day job so I'm not quite pressed. I have patience and dependable paychecks. Don't get me wrong, I'd rather stay home and take care of my puppy, read philosophy books and try to share what I've learned with the world. That is what I'd always rather do. 

No one cares about being a good person anymore. 

I've been reading the bible lately, but I haven't really found out why. I think it's because I'm afraid of losing myself. I'm afraid of becoming what other people want me to be. I'm also afraid of believing them when they say I am wrong. I have faith that everything my heart feels is the truth. I believe in faith. I have faith in myself. The Bible has simply been helping me reassure myself that the thoughts I hear in my head are good --and it helps to keep them that way. I want so badly to rid myself of any drop of hater that might find its way in or out of me. I wonder, sometimes, if my opinion is "hating" but decide that if I really feel that way, then I should really feel that way. 

There aren't enough good people. 

I'm not even one of them, but I'm trying to be. I fear for the future because the only images I see for young girls are ones of self-degredation where what their bodies look like is far more important than what's in their minds. We are in the age where talent is affected by what shoes you have on your feet, especially if you're not dancing. I don't think young women (who look like me) are encouraged to use their minds and conduct themselves with honor. We're all perfect in our own way, but we (women, primarily of  color) allow ourselves to be degraded and demeaned at every turn. I took a picture with my ass in the camera last night. Two, actually. I still feel weird about it, but they were funny pictures, so I'm sorta okay. But... I can't lie and say it's not on my mind. Women are, indeed, beautiful. But there is a difference between putting out a slice to entice and putting it on display like meat in a butcher's window.

I'm terrified for my daughters. 

I need my sons to have faith that good women exist. 

I need to exist. 

I still love money. 


You still cannot buy me. 


My mind is exquisite.  


My ass is perfect.


What you think they all mad at me for?

Looking For a Job?

7.12.11

Exactly one year ago I thought....

Don't give up. That's all I can really tell you with honesty.

I've been trying to come up with a good answer. But I can't sit here and pretend I know the secrets. And I hate to do this to you, but, for me, it wasn't what I knew, it was who I knew. Not to say that I'm not qualified, but you need someone who can tell you where the opportunities lie. You need to meet people who are important. When I graduated, I had a couple of interviews lined up through a friend. Big. Life-changing, I had decided. They decided not to hire me though. But I still had plans. Big. Life-changing. 

I'm scared.

7.9.11

Exactly one year ago I thought....

I'm fucking terrified, honestly. I don't know what it is that pushes me so hard.

I Don't Exist Anymore

7.9.11

Exactly one year ago I thought....

I just deactivated my Facebook account. I wish there were to make it permanent. I don't want to say I've left and then go back. Going against my word is my least favorite thing to do. 

      This invisibility is fucking with me.  I'm not supposed to matter. That's what was said. So that's how I felt. And I ain't saying we were from the projects. When we pulled up to the supermarket, my mother used to say, in spanish, don't ask for nothin. So, just like Kanye, we already had nothing and were expecting more of it.  Do you know how that feels? I felt like everyone around me had all the fly shit. I don't know how I did it. I don't know how I made it. And it already feels like I've fuckin made it. 

Making Yourself Inaccessible.

7.7.11

Exactly one year ago I thought....

     I'm done. Everyone deactivates and then comes back but I'm done this time. I deleted the "I think" I originally placed in the previous sentence because... I think it's time. 

       I don't want to be accessible. I realized yesterday how much I don't like to talk on the phone. Not because of lack of conversation, but because I talk way too fuckin much. And somehow I'm friends with all the most talkative people known to man. It takes  up your time. You're stuck in one place, in one conversation. You don't get shit done. And it's not that I have that much shit to do, I just end up feeling like there's something I didn't  do because I was trapped with this thing to my face. 

Things Men Fear: Independent Thoughts

         

           "Are you single, though?"

           "Yes, I am."

           "See I'm trying to help you see what your flaws are so you can fix that problem."

            "Flaws? Sweetheart, I'm single because niggas are like you. That girl you're "involved" with while your sitting across the table speaking to me, that's not me."

       Why do people like to talk to you about dating and relationships and them come back with the "friends" thing? If you wanted to be friends, we'd be friends, right? Yet, we were already on the part of the conversation where the "I mean, if things happen and we move that way"sentence comes about. Before he told me that he likes to base all his relationships on friendship, he thought it was a good idea to ask me about my "dating scene".  "I'm not dating, nor do I particularly want to." I'd told him. I believe that answer fit more in-line with the "free agent" category he wanted me to choose. 

         "I'm gonna be honest," he'd begun. "I'm involved." & That's when he expected me to take my panties off. For some reason, men expect me to want them. It's bizarre. Perhaps there are plenty women like me who are the exact opposite: Lonely and just waiting for a little bit of attention. Lonely is one thing I refuse to be. I might be alone. I might be bored... but lonely? Nah. For that, I'll call my mother. I'll admit, sometimes, I want to be held. Sometimes I simply want to be smiled at... but there is very  little conversation I want to have. And with very few people. Still, here I sat, on Independence Day of all days, trying to explain to a (boy on his way to becoming a) man that he's not the one for me. 

         "You can't get everything you want."

          "Everything I want." We must have discussed my "flaw" for an hour. His friends left, came back, tried to explain the situation and then he pulled me aside. At the end of the conversation, I realized we were still at the beginning. 

           "You're afraid of me."

           "Why am I afraid of you?" he smirked. 

            "Because I'm a female."

            "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't."

          There are two things men fear: Failure and failures. The problem with dating too young is that, most times, you're unsure of what the future holds for the other person --even more often, you're unsure of what the future holds for you. When you get involved in something, there is a chance you won't be able to succeed in it. If the task is tough, you have 2 choices: Quit, or try --but men don't quit, so they try. When they come across a woman who doesn't take much shit, the challenge becomes a little tougher. When they come across a woman with morals, it becomes even more challenging. When they run into a woman with goals, it's competition. There is a chance, he won't be able to provide everything. Worse, there's a chance he'll pretend he can do it just to keep you around & later on, you'll realize he's not everything he claimed to be --or that he thought he was, which is is exactly how good girls go bad. 

           "You can always have everything you want."

            "Always."

   

            "But what you want isn't always what you need."

            "Always."

             "There's no balance in that. What you need isn't always what's best for you."

           "I just don't understand how you, who's just met me 10 minutes ago, already knows what I need and want when it's taken me 23 years to fully understand who I am an an individual and you're sitting across the table from me telling me what's best for me. You're bound to fuck up. I'm telling you what I want and you're already telling me you won't give me that," I stated. I've given up on holding back my tongue for niggas because the "smart" ones always try to tell you about yourself while you sit across from them and try not to hurt their feelings. Little do they know, I've destroy that "confidence" they claim they had with one swift sentence.

            There must be balance in a relationship. People tend to go towards 50/50, but fail to realize that 75/75 is also still equal. 10/10 is also still equal.  If you want to be precise, 50/50 actually equals 1, so that 50/50 mean's 100%. In my relationship, I require both people to give 100%. There is no 50%, 50%. No one gets to slack off so that the other person can work more. It is not  okay to hold back from someone simply because you can. If you have the world to give me, I want it. If you have 10¢, I want it. Frankly, I need someone who is willing to give me everything, who wants to give me everything. Why can't it be 100/100? Why can't I have everything I want and he have everything he want? "That's impossible,"is the response I usually hear. And yes, that's true if you feel that way. If you think it's impossible for you to give 100%, it's impossible for you to receive it and vice versa. Eventually, someone's going to notice they aren't getting as much.When you have this conversation with men, they think you want car, crib, jewels in the next 5 minutes... and that's what makes them unqualified. If you don't realize that all you need to give is love, and that all a girl (who's the one for you) wants is love... it's bound to be something other than love, you're already on the wrong path. 

         If love isn't the end goal, might as well stop while you're ahead. But... niggas aren't looking for love are they? Just friends, huh? That's why I don't do "friends" with anyone who asks me for my friendship. When you meet a new person of the same sex, you don't talk about what you're looking for in a "friend," so why feed me the bullshit? Either we hit it off or we don't. If a person asks you if you can be friends, that's not genuine friendship. That's trying to give the situation a title so that  they feel comfortable calling you something. Fuck labels, yo. What people call you don't mean shit, it's how they interact with you, you need to be weary of. This man did not want to be my friend. A friend would not have to pull me aside to tell me privately that he might not be able to give me everything I need in a romantic relationship. Matter fact, a friend, too, would do as much as they can for me if they can. Again, this nigga is not my friend.  

             Failures are everywhere. There are things you expect people to do where they don't come through --not because they can't but because they won't. Therein lies the actual difference. If someone can't do for me, they simply can't. I have no right to get upset at that. But if they won't, that's grimy. Some people take, take, take and never give. I've done it, but only to niggas who give, give, give only with hidden intentions --you;ve got to be able to spot those as well. Some people only do for you because they expect things. & Some people only expect things because they can't get shit for themselves. I've also used niggas for a similar reason, I'll admit. Some of y'all are only good for what you're good for and cash is one of them, because some niggas ain't got shit else to offer.  What a man fears most though, is that the "perfect" woman we claimed to be when they met us will fade away. They're afraid we'll fail them because... we often do. 

            This was a very important conversation. My dating is... non-existent. I don't like niggas. There's very, very, very few I want in my face 24/7 and that's the issue. I'm not dating to date anymore. "I refuse to waste my time," I told him. "I'm already married to my husband."

          "So you're married to yourself? I'm trying to get you to open up and not be so narrow-minded."

          "Narrow minded?" I repeated to let him know where he fucked up. "Honey, my view is very narrow-minded because I will marry one man and when i find that one man who thinks the way I do, I'll be just fine."

            "Well you have to be okay with being a lone soul."

             "You have to be okay with just not being the one for me."

          Do we really just involve ourselves with people simply not to be alone? Who the fuck are we letting into our lives? People who don't do shit? Ain't worth shit? This man tried, for an hour, to convince me that I won't be happy. That I won't have what I desire, "Everyday we live, the world tells us we can have everything we want," he had argued. "Well, if that's what everyday is like for you, daddy, I am so sorry," I responded. No one wants you to be happy if they aren't. But if you are happy, they just want to leech off of it. At the end of the night, no matter my smart remarks, brutal truths and loud sighs, he thought it was still smart to ask for my number. Now, I have no idea what to do with him. 

             "If you're gonna screen my calls, just tell me now."

         "If you're gonna call me and give me the "uhhh, whats up, can I come over?" then don't bother." I swear I give these niggas a fair chance, they just dig themselves deep. 

           "It's not fair for me to know exactly what I want and settle for something other than that. That's not right to me," I had explained. "I get me everything I want." 

              "So what happens if he can't do that for you?" he'd asked after he pulled me aside so he could make a better attempt in private.

                "Then you just see how it goes. If you can't come through for a woman, and she trips out. Fuck her. Because if a woman loves you and you can't come through, she'll say fuck it, that's my baby, tho. The problem with this conversation, though, daddy, is that I know nothing about you. You spent this who night trying to tell me who you think I am, but I don't know shit about you. I'm not interested in this conversation. I want to know your favorite color. Your favorite movie. Shit like that." Everyone tries so hard to be honest, they stop being themselves. We're so busy trying to explain ourselves, that we can't be ourselves. We know nothing about each other except who we say we are. Actions, ladies and gentlemen. Where the fuck are the actions?

             This was far too emotional a conversation for the 4th of July, but fuuuuuuck am I glad I'm single. & holly shiiiittt I'm glad I've got a functioning brain on me. If the first night I meet this dude, we don't see eye-to-eye and it's practically an argument, why fuck with it? Everybody is who they are. At least I am, and if that's not how he really is, I still can't fuck with him because he wasn't 1000% about that. Why is everybody so fuckin pressed? Why can't we just chill and enjoy the days?

          "Whoever is there in the end is who is there in the end. The man who's right for me while be my husband on day one and day 1000. Won't shit change." 

           "I admire your loyalty," he'd responded. 

           Yea.. and my ass, I thought. 

Niggas aint shit.

 (Unless he's the one.)  

Oh, & next time I'm asked about my "dating scene," 

my answer will be 

"Independent, thank you."

ELLA.