Many of you have wondered why I haven’t been updating. Well I’ll tell you. I was sick and tired. Not in the angsty way. I was too poor to eat. So I was quit literally too sick and tired to do much. I have mentioned my job before and how it was somewhat terrible. I was always working a “steady” gig while I picked up freelance work. The thing with freelance is that sometimes you hit a rough patch. The money stops coming and if your steady gig can’t cover the bills your screwed. That pretty much happend to me.
Last week I started a new job. A for realzies job. I have insurance and a 401K and no one walks around with an erection nor does anyone stuff money in my panties. In fact I actually wear panties everyday! Not just panties but a pants suit. So not only do I not have to fear closing this site due to costs but I can actually realize he vision I have for this site.
I feel like Pinocchio , I’m finally a real person in the eyes of society. I’m a functioning member and not financial or social drain. I think it might come as a shock but I really never fully believed this day would come. There’s a high functioning part of my brain that is disgusted at how much my job controls my feeling of self worth, but fuck that part of my brain.
I’ve done the goddamn near impossible. I’ve gone from sex worker to freelance journalist to corporate career woman before 30. Along the way I’ve been to places so low and crushing I thought I would never feel the warmth of light again. I’ve seen ugly things , done a few myself and have the scars to prove it. Fuck a crystal stair, my life hasn’t even been a project elevator at times. Regardless I set a goal that many people said I’d never reach and I did.
I really can’t think of a bigger cosmic fuck you to every teacher that told me I wouldn’t amount to shit, to my uncle that told me I just wasn’t that smart, to the slimy editors that would steal my by-lines to my best stories, to the bitches at the club that would break my stuff and blow smoke on my costumes for having the audacity to read a fucking book in their presence, to the “I think I’m famous” party rapper who thought his one single made him hot enough to get away with punching a dancer because she didn’t want to blow him, to the stupid ass bouncer that let him get away with it, to the manager who fired me fighting back , to the boyfriends that told me that I wasn’t shit without them, and I was only good for one thing, to the assholes of Newark, Hunts Point and Elizabeth who would harass me on the streets making in that much harder to get to and from work to fund my goddamn education. To the people who would condescendingly ask me if I went to school and if I had any kids. To
To all these fuckwits that funny feeling on your chin are my cosmic ball hairs scraping your skin as you FUCKING CHOKE ON IT.