Not My Man

5.16.12

Exactly one year ago I thought....

That's not my man... because he's not. So every time I want to do for him, I have to sit back and ask what she's doing for him. F*cks him? Because she's not helping him out in any other area of his life. I sat back and listened to your man complain about the difficulties of following his dream. Have you listened to him? If so, are you planning on doing anything? Because he's still feeling it enough to speak of it.

& If you haven't handled it... now, do I have to? I'm not here to pick up slack. Where you fail, you'll be seen failing. If you want to be number one, you better play your roll, boo. Cuz I'm not playing #2.

Love is love, though. I wish everybody the best. 

5.16.13

Today I think....

I suppose it's no woman's job to take care of a man. Have you ever met one of those guys who gets women to buy him things? I always find it impressive. I'm the type of woman who likes to buy, so it's interesting to see the other side. It's heartbreaking that we can no longer give to people without being abused. I'm good to my friends and my friends happen to be males. But... I've entered this point in my life where I don't like to keep anything to myself. I prefer to share. I don't like the spiritual burden that comes with greed. 

Where is the line between a brotha who's trying to make it, and one who wants you to make it for him?  Is it right to stop dating a man because he's not financially at the same place you are? I think that would be wrong. I think the better move is to never involve yourself in the first place. Sometimes, I think I'll sit waiting for Mr. Perfect forever, but at least I won't end up with Mr. I Guess He'll Do. 

I've been wondering a lot lately why I'm single. Lol.  It's not that I'm worried, but I want to know what the exact reason is. I wish I could know what other people think the reason is. My reason (right now) is that men become burdensome, they turn into children. If you form a true relationship with a man, you cook, clean and do all that stuff for him. Frankly, I don't have the time to cook and clean after myself sometimes. Sometimes, I go in for a $1 slice or a hotdog because I'm just that tired or my pockets are that tight. Not only do I not have the time for a man, but I can't afford him either --if he's not kicking in. 

Men think women are the only ones who need money spent on them. Men like gifts, too. Unfortunately, I'm the type to play wife immediately. I believe that if you are who you are, you need to be who you will be. So if you plan on marrying a man, be his wife, ring or not. Catering to a man will still cost you a dollar, but it'll go to a different place. The other issue with men is that you can never cater to just your man. You have to cater to his entire family and his whole crew. When a man dates a woman, he takes her on a date. When a woman dates a man, she's making dinner for everyone. 

I'm actually glad I don't have a man. I haven't been stressed in over a year. I haven't been questioned. I haven't had to do anything. I don't worry about where anyone is or who I'm with and how they'll feel. Of course, I consider my surroundings and the company I keep and how that affects how I'm perceived, but I don't worry about anyone's emotions. I also don't have to worry about anyone's finances. I care for my friends and where they're going in life, but when you're in a relationship, that is one life --at least is should be. That said, that person's problems become your problems. Their concerns become your concerns. If you have a boyfriend/girlfriend (as much as I despise those titles) you can't sit back and say, "he/she can deal with that." If you can provide a solution, you provide it. If you can't, you help brainstorm. You do whatever you have to to get the job done and get the issues resolved. I feel you should be 1000% invested in each others' futures, goal, dreams, aspirations, etc. Or maybe I expect too much in relationships. I've been told that before. Maybe that's why I'm single. 

lol. 

Sincerely, 

ELLA.

Don't Confuse Confidence

"Dominican" T-Shirt & panty set, Gift from SHANWEAR.com

10.11.11, I thought... 

I know when a girl is prettier than me. I don't give a shit, though. My mind is fucking beautiful. 

The worst thing you can do to yourself is compare yourself to other women. It's not that I never doubt myself, it's that I correct the issue the moment it arises. 

I'm in love with myself. I've seen my strength. I've seen my endurance. I've seen myself fall and rise again. I've read my own writing and listened to my own voice. I've heard supporters applaud me in my accomplishments. I've also seen the envy in the eyes of those close to me. I love me because I know me so well.

There's nothing not to love about me. I am flawed. I'm never going to be America's Next Top Model nor Idol. While I stand tall at 5'2, my voice is pitiable. Still, that doesn't stop me from posing for the cameras or singing my heart's desires in the shower. 

I think I'm... pretty. Decent. Bearable. I spend enough on my shoes and maintain my mane (although I seriously need my ends clipped). I try to make sure my nails are filed and painted and that I'm at least 5'5. (I'm 5'7 today.)

I invented this thing & now they call it "swag".  It's nothing more than being unaffected. Indifference. Insouciance. It's not giving a fuck. It's... me. Everyday, I'm happy. No one can take that from me. On certain days, I'm happier than usual. This may be due to a text, a call or from looking myself in the mirror. I'm aware of what's going on in the world but I'm not bogged down by it. I live life. Every second of it. That is why I'm beautiful. I need no further justification from anyone else.

Today, I think...

        Never going to be America's Next Top Model? What was I thinking? No, I'll never be on those shows, but I'll have my fair share of the starlight. CJ's been getting phone calls from people who used to know him. They're afraid that he's changing. He might be getting a big head. Something might be wrong. "I'm just not afraid of myself anymore," he told me. When he spoke it, I realized I couldn't agree.  Interviewed @MillsDaComedian (CLICK HERE TO VIEW) a while ago. He'd seen me f*ck around on stage at an open mic and February and decided that I'm scared. The words "scared" and "fear" are my least favorites, so I couldn't totally agree with him. There was hesitation inside of me, yes.... but why? What the f*ck is stopping me?

         When I was 15, I was an angry poet at large. I couldn't be stopped. I'm not sure how words come together so smoothly for me, but for some reason, they love me as much as I love them. I've never forced anything I've said. Everything simply slips from tongue to paper and while it's not easy, it's not hard. When my brother passed in 06, I stopped writing. Not on purpose, I simply didn't have any words. Instead, I spent my college years participate in open mics & slams using poetry I'd written when I was 16. Quite honestly, I had died as well and it's a bit difficult to express that to a crowd of people waiting for you to be live. During college, I wrote one piece in which I told God to go f*ck himself and spoke to my brother directly as I'd never done before. 4 years. One poem.It gave me my life back though. 

          You should see me in person. I think I'm hilarious. At first glance, everyone thinks they can/should try their hand. "Innocent" they call me. But when I open my mouth, the words that make their way out are just as you read them here. I get nervous on a mic, but I never get scared. Usually, I'm more pissed off than anything else. I'm always excited for the opportunity, but I can't help but to wonder if everybody watching me understands how dope I am... Cocky? Nah... Confidence. And second place is a bitch.

      I got on stage the other night --via StreetPoetsNYC -- and f*cked up this one "verse" I have over a Madonna song. I knew I wasn't ready... well... I wasn't super ready. But this piece is giving me life right now & I need to find a way to perfect it. What you end up noting though, is that there is no way to prepare for an actual event unless it's in a similar situation. I know I'm not ready for a big stage, but I'd be an idiot to not try my hand. The more you wait to do something, the more time passes you by. The most amazing part about being "good" at something, though, is how good you are when you f*ck up. 

       People love me. I've got a good persona. "Could you do that for me?" he asked. "Do what?" I responded with a side-eye. I hate being rude, so when people (mostly guys) speak to me on the train, I speak back. The part that always sucks is when they're getting closer to their stop & have to make their final attempt. "Be my friend," he replied. 

"I'm a terrible friend," I told him. 

"How's that?"

"I'm very busy."

"That's cool. I just text sometimes to say hi," he tried. 

"I don't even do that," I responded. "And that's the truth," I added on with a laugh. Everybody thinks that I'm playing around and... sometimes, I am. But always seriously. Not to downplay that open mic --It was fantastic & a group of phenomenal people --but had I not gone there, I'd have gone home to recite my newest, dopest lines to Duchess, who doesn't know how to stand and ovate. I have to go out and practice in real life. You've got to move before you're ready so that when you're ready, you know how to move. "You guys can wave back and forth with me if you'd like," I'd started out as I waited for Madonna's intro to smooth out. "One day, I'll be on a stage and you'll all do it with me anyway, watch," I told them. It wasn't premeditated, but shit like that slips through my lips often. But it's true. People don't know who to like... but I know who they should. Granted, I'm not where I aim to be... but this is a tough move I'm making. I make a spectacle of myself and hope the crowd will enjoy it.  The other night, I got up there --pretty face, heels and mascara -- and surprised them with a little "gangsta". They enjoyed it. I suppose that's all that matters. I suppose I am, indeed, the greatest.

They scream, Ella!

Don't do it!

You might fall!

The last few did. 

But if you do it, 

do it legendary:

Take them to the morgue. 

We'll help you bury. 

     

I'm the Worst Blogger

7.9.11

Exactly one year ago I thought....

And the best at the same time, I would like to say.

Was just listening to Funkmaster Flex drop bombs. I need some of those. 

Good Girls Born Bad

7.9.11

Exactly one year ago I thought....

      My mother, 57 years old and 5 foot nothin', is the smallest thug on the face of the Earth. Ask anyone. There's no one who didn't fear or respect my mother (except my cousins. They don't know the truth about her lol. Your sweet Tia is a thug don't let her fool you.) She ran a tight ship. She's the type of mother who would give you a bag of Doritoes to distract you and then run up behind you to rip out that loose tooth you want to keep playin with. That didn't happen to me tho. I found it a better option to pull out my own teeth. We were all as well controlled as we could be considering she'd breed a litter just like herself. We all have an uncontrollable Napoleon complex. We all want to control the fucking world with a perverse sense of entitlement. 

Back in One Piece

Ella Thought: 1.28.11

This is my first official Diary entry. Because sometimes, you want to get things off your chest, but it's hard to chose the right person to talk to. & I don't have anyone who just listens. All my friendships are either equally balanced, or I do most of the listening. I'm not complaining... it just is what it is. & really, I don't like to talk to people about the guys I'm dating if I like the guy. If I don't care... I'll share all the details. But the things I want, I keep to myself. So, in the words of Mr. Lil' Wayne, I'm "talking to myself because I am my own consultant." 

**All Diary blogs published 1 year after they are written**

Checking In.

     I feel like I haven't really written for myself latley. Everything has been for you all. I'm not complaining, its been fun. But everything I do is wrapped up in this blog. I feel like a foreigner of the entire world taking pictures of pointless things just to show you all what I've seen. Just to share. Sometimes I get wrapped up in business for so long, I lose rack of myself. It's not always the best desicion. I stress myself out. The road to perfect is not an easy one. deliberation weighs heavy on the brain and nothing is ever perfect. Imagine going after an impossible goal day after day without faltering. While overcoming the hiccups in the faith you have in yourself, nevermind a diety. 

      My friends have been showering me with compliments lately. I'm lightheaded off respect. People say they love the blog. My partners are pulling their weight.  My boss compliments my ethic. My peers voice their admiration. People I've never met know my name and speak highly of me in the most appropriate of instances. Most of all, my mother is enjoying my spirit. My soul is intact. I'm even reading the bible now. I'm alone in the world but I bought an alpalca cape in Vegas. I'll keep my own nights warm. I've never felt this strong. I've never felt so much growth within myself. I need everyone to keep up. The wheels have been well oiled and won't cease to spin for a while now. My mind has expanded. I am capable of so much more than I had imagined --and I've always had very high expectations of myself. I have very few dreams. I prefer to consider those thoughts while I'm conscious in order to capitalize off of them.