YOU'RE MY TARGET SCOTT! YOUR TIME IS OVER! I admit it. I am a hater. I hate Scott Savol! Got it.? Not only does he beat his baby's momma (who is black), he thinks he is black, and he needs to sit his ass down some damn where. Every time he sings he always acts like he's in some damn Baptist church. He can't sing. Now granted, Constantine was an okay singer, but Scott has to make a grand exit (Grand as in Pillsbury cinnamon rolls), and he deserved to leave before Nikko, Nadia, Anwar, and Constantine!! Any of you dumb ass people that thinks he's a good singer and thinks he deserves to have made it this far and Kiss My Fat Caramel Ass, and crash in a ditch while listening to Scott whale out his notes. VOTE HIS ASS OFF! He is so fuckin whack! URGH!!!!!!!!!! I am so mad that he is still on that damn show. When is it going to end? Somebody must put an end to this man! When is the time going to come when I can enjoy American Idol without this bitch in the fuckin way. I am mad. Really. OVAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!! Damn if yall think he can sing, what would a good agent, pro tools, and auto tune do for me? Hmmm....I'm genius. I am gonna release a CD next! Show You Bitches what and American Idol is all about!
So I haven't told him yet, however I've hinted, and so has he. I am really excited because I know he likes me and he's a really, really, really nice guy. And he doesn't smoke! YAY. Smokers suck and their kisses taste how the ashtray smells. He's very attractive, wait is he gay? or is he just a flirt. Damn I hate being gay sometimes. I mean he's supposed to be gay, how many straight men conjure and jujz it up with gay people? I hate having crushes, and going on dates. There is interval of time, where either party can't be vulnerable or really say what they are really feeling cause whoever buckles first is weak. Who made these damn rules? Imma play it by ear. But still. I think he is gorgeous. And he's a nice guy to lay up with at night. He's great to talk to-just a nice man. Very well groomed.
I'm tired!!!! I didn't tell yall the story about how I was in jail the other day for driving around with a suspended license. But that wasn't cute. I mentioned it, but I didn't elaborate. Good think I know people that work at the police station and the county jail before the big bus came.
Anyway I am going to write...and luxuriate. I'd just thought I'd check it. I am doing well. Thank you to all of the phenomenal people who sent me great advice and well wishes, thank you to everyone who signs my comment box, I like, need, and want validation.
Yours In Da Struggal,
I really didn't want to talk about this crush, I wanted to speak about something more relevant like voting that wannabe black man off of American Idol, and how I am about to launch two additional divisions to my empire. When I have it together I'll come up with it. Great. And fuck big dick light skinned dudes.
I remember when I was a child; I thought my family was perfect. We had these fairy-tale like Christmas events, the traditional round-table get together Thanksgivings, we celebrated each other’s birthdays. Beyond all of that, we communicated. We had fun. My cousins visited often-the fondest memories I could have.
But as children we are naïve. Blinded by adults faults and their issues to understand and respect one another for their interpretation, difference, and experience. Their life. Those same issues that keep adults apart perpetuate the cycle and keep offspring, I, my cousins from growing close.
I’m hurting. I’m dealing with the recent: My cousin Tuesday-who died of a sickle cell induced heart attack in January. She and I were extremely close. She wanted so badly to see her family, our rock that was submerged 50 leagues under the sea float again.
The old: 9 ½ years ago her brother murdered my Grandmother. And for a foundation with cracks in it, couldn’t stand another shake to the core. The foundation gave way and we as a family were lost.
It took Tuesday’s death to remind us who we were as a family. We were all shocked by her sudden death. It could have been anyone else, but not her. It is unreal. And my delayed reaction has finally set in…
We are slowly moving back together as a unit. It’s a start. A start that Tuesday cannot physically see, but one that she wanted so badly. I feel a strong rhythm in my heart to get my family in some sense of order. If not for the legacy of my Grandmother; the matriarch who held it together and rightfully so; the cousin who was my strength-and who tried to fill my Grandmothers shoes, maybe for my mother who has done all she could and has just thrown her hands up, maybe I should do this for my sister who needs to know where she comes from and who her family members are, for her own healthy upbringing. I have to do it.
My cousin Mark whom you’ve heard me mention before, he and I haven’t spent time since we were teenagers, because we were both victims of our cycle. Until recently I found out he was in jail for some dumb shit (typical Black Male shit…) doing things to get attention and using his best coping method to deal with the cycle. I’m not any better because I write about mine. I’m will become better because I will help him channel his life in a better direction and catch up on time lost because…of the cycle.
It boggles my mind at times how things can just turn for the worst and how we are tested…but I welcome this. It makes me stronger. I like the idea of being able to help my family change and become one again. If drama is the formula for success, then bring more of it. Without struggle there is no victory. Without victory there is no lesson.
My point in my personal life from today forth is to ensure 5 things:
1. I break the cycle. For my sister, for my generation, my children. I’ll do it by…
2. Reaching out to my mothers brothers and sisters before God gives us another test, wake up shake, or reminder that we need to focus on him and the gift of each other.
3. Keep lines of communication open with my family.
4. Being proactive about the future by not holding on (not forgetting) but not holding on to what was said or did 10 years ago that got us in this damn position in the first place.
5. Saying I love you.
My challenge to you; the blog reader, if you can relate-start to make a change today before we are made the examples. Lets collectively choose to set the example.
It's a chill day. I've been working on my issues with my family, working on my issues. Today is just another day in the process. I wrote an essay that I'll post later on this evening about my new mission. Today has been a better day than most.
Didn't make any social plans, I'm keeping my new image underwraps until I do a new photo shoot. I am still getting comfortable with it...
I'm good, today is a good day.
I do have one small problem. There is a guy that I use to talk to. That I really want to be cool with but we can't find that common ground. There isn't any reason why he and I can't be friends. It's just the fact the he lets other people influence his decision making and doesn't let his core experience with me be the deciding factor, which to me is really weak and stupid. He knows that I am a good person but he lets people who don't know shit about me tell him the opposite of what his experience is with me. Dumb ass.
Why doesn't it ever fail me? If I see a gay man, whether or not he is masculine or like the queen above, he asks me "How You Doin'?" Like tonight, I was at the Chinese food joint with my family and on the way out of the restroom comes this gay man, we lock eyes for 10 seconds, which seemed like an hour and sure enough he asked me "How You Doin'?"
It's not just me that's aware of this either. It's everyone.
"How you doin'?" She asks in a deep voice with a pseudo-stereotypical, homo vibe twang thrown in the mix. When she says "How You doin'?" She's usually referring to ones sexual orientation as being gay... without technically saying it. Like she'll say Sean Combs, then right behind it she'll say "How You Doin'?"
Her altar ego "Woody," is this over the top gay man who gives advice to other gay men alike (and to some women) who keeps it all the way real. Her no-holds bars dishing style wins people like me over and causes an uproar on the red carpet... I like her. Thoroughly enjoy her, maybe too much.
I too even find myself meeting gay men and I am opening up my mouth to say "How You Doin'?" in that Woody voice, and I even do it when I am greeting my other gay friends-instead of saying "what's your tea?" or the ever so queenish "Hay Girl..." "How You Doin'?" is so relevant and right...
Why do gay men ask this? I am puzzled.
Professionally I've lost myself. I think I am tired. I put in three years and over 10,000.00 to get this ship moving, and I am in the middle of the sea looking at this vast open space around me, trying to figure out what to do with it.
Mentally I am mapping out plans that I don't know how to execute. I've never been the one not to know how to do something. I've always done what I wanted to do. But for some strange reason I think I am losing a bit of my self understanding.
A few things touched me and disturbed me tonight.
There is a particular situation that went down over the last 24 hours and I was unavailable for a certain time period. One of my family members got mad because I didn't call him immediately and tell him what went down. My whole attitude was, why should I? The situation is out of both of our hands, there wasn't anything either of us could do but let it work it self out especially when he's out of the country. His attitude, my attitude, the parting words, disturbed me.
I read Rashid's post, and I am so happy for him. It took me back to when I received my initial shipment of 'At This Moment,' and what I was going through at that particular time in my spectrum. It reminded how I should never second guess myself or cut a situation short without seeing the end result, because we as people don't know what the end result is. It touched me.
I like to see black people uplift each other. Rod is a good example of that. Just go to his blog and look at all of the positive energy he has going on there for our community. I like to give credit where credit is due, and he deserves this! This touches me.
I know this blog makes no sense, which is why it is appropriately titled. However I would like to thank Rashid, Rod, Fred, for making things easier daily, understanding the struggle, and pursuing your own happiness, I appreciate that.
Pray for my homegirl in ATL, Tara, who is going under the knife today. Pray for me so I can get through this difficult time in my line and get back on track to be the best that I know I can be.
Why the fuck hasn't Scott Savols ass been voted off yet? Shut his blimp face ass down already!
Am I the only person that thinks this picture is off...
Does anyone else find the humor in this photo. Can someone please explain why all of the Popes have this hand movement thing down packed? Can I wear all white and put on a tall at and go stand on Crenshaw and King with my hands raised like this and have people bow down to almighty Trent?
Coming UP....Conversations with Fred.
I love black men. I can't help it. I just do. We are a beautiful, we're talented and we're so opposite of what the media portrays. Yet we're full of shit at times, deceitful, liars, confused, scared, game players and all the other shit that goes along with that, I haven't and won't give up on Black men. Giving up on a Black man is like giving up on myself and that just can't happen.
Anyway. I've complied a list of my personal 10...The Ten men that would change my life. I'd get married without a pre-nump, and submit to their every wish and desire. Hmm...lets start with
I just can't get enough of his rugged, handsome thug appeal.
3. Shawn Wayans
4. Morris Chestnut.
6. Laz Alonso.
What is it about the Chip toothed kid with the crooked smile that gets me worked up. The Ghetto garb? The laid back "mase-esque" speech impediment? Or is it his hood cuteness that is attractive? He's cute and he's got a hustle. I think he maybe one of the only rappers that doesn't have to rap about rims, kicking your ass, shooting you or selling drugs to get a hit, which is even more attractive which says a lot about his character. Go Fab.
10. Pretty Boy Mikey, Michael Ealy.
This is just an honorable mention. Really I am starting
to believe that he is nothing more than a cute face. Which is a turn off. Fuck a pretty
piss-colored face. And Besides I am not too fond of Mike's especially since the last one I sucked off was cute and light skinned too. Bastard...lol
Well that's my list. I'm sure I'll catch some flack for this one. But I have good taste. Tell me who I left off....Where are all the chocolate boys at?
I've been working on a lot of creative projects and enjoying my time to myself. Becoming one with the Emancipation Of Mimi. Yes I said it. Mariah Carey. That CD is the business. With an honorable mention going to Faith, whose album debuted at number 2 on the charts, go Faith!!
I have some interesting posts coming up for the week including my hit list, conversations with Fred Smith & Rashid Darden, that you'll be able to enjoy, and of course me running my mouth about non-sense. How mad are we that Nadia got voted off before the Michelin Man, Scott Savol? I am still mad about Nikko getting voted off...he was the best singer, period.
Whatever it is. I want to be in love. I like waking up and sharing my new work with people, sharing my dreams with someone other than my Aunt Jacky. Not that it's a bad thing, but I am pretty sure she gets tired of listening to me talk, just like Blogger#31905 does, but hell, who cares?
There is nothing absolutely remotely new going on with me, but my work. Working on a new book, working on a scholarship fund for teenagers in college with Sickle Cell, my magazine, and expanding my empire...all of which will go into effect as soon as I get that royalty check....May 3rd?
Stay tuned, this week is gonna be fun.
Yours In The Struggle,
Both Sy and Joi, and independent artists, “Struggling artists,” as Sy stated during her set. Which I can relate to!! They are both dope so checkout their websites and buy their CD’S, support y'all artists! They give you more than these washed up mainstream folks.
They performed at Little Temple, this intimate venue in the Virgil Heights area of L.A. Me and my friend Nita went and enjoyed the show. When I told her Joi was going to be there she got hella excited, cause Joi don’t come out that much…and I had to hip her to Sy Smith because she is just this bomb, unique, individual artist who does her thing and puts out real music…
I came late…I got about 40 minutes of Sy’s set, which was amazing. I was in an excited blitz I can’t remember half of the songs she did, I was on one, drinking my “Elixir of Life” out of my IKEA purchased flask.
I’ve seen Sy three times, and she really gets in her music and interacts with the audience. It’s hard to explain, I mean she talks a bit during breaks, and she may even call the "Prince of Soul" himself, Rahsaan Patterson, to do a impromptu ad-lib session in the heat of the moment. But her charismatic draw, her unique style, the sincerity in her lyric, the energy from the crowd, and her passion for good music make her one of the best female vocalists of the decade, if not the generation. If you listen close you can catch her singing with the Ricky Minor Band every Tuesday night on American Idol…backing the contestants.
Joi is a true show Kitty. She comes out in these 5” psychedelic funk heels on, angel wings attached to her “B is for BIATCH,” shirt and her skintight jeans that almost accented her own coochie. She is the shit, or should I say Tennessee Slim Is The Bomb??!! Her backup Singer Keisha Jackson is so ridiculously talented it makes no sense. The girl is a modern day Chaka Khan with more than a twang of originality. And she had on these fierce red come fuck me heels that wanted to make me fuck her. Work out!
Although I was mad that Joi didn’t sing Techno Pimp or Lick, I was more than thoroughly pleased when she sang her new material, touched on some of her old stuff, and even worked in Prince’s “Darlin’ Nikki,” grindin’ down to the floor in the skin tight jeans, rubbin' on her titties, and showin' of that tatted six pack stomach of hers. Girl has body, she’s sexy, and she can HOLLLAA! Okay? She is a sick, slept on talent that needs to be showin’ these young hoes how to do something’, like Joi said herself “Ain’t nothin’ worse than a old hoe!” (and she ain’t talkin’ bout her self neither) Joi is a pure unadulterated, keep it real sista. She reminds you of a female Prince. Her rawness about sex, fuckin’, love, hurt, pain, life, and experience is a force truly to be experienced and to be reckoned with. If she is ever in your neck of the woods shout her a holler, because that is a show you don’t want to miss!
Sy and Joi are both in a class of their own. I truly challenge anyone who enjoys real Artistry to check them out! And tell ‘em I sent you! My Saturday night was made. I chilled with Nita, enjoyed a good show, sipped on my “Elixir of Life,” and met a cute boy. Life really is the business…
Shot Outs to: Miss Sy Smith. Thank you for being so genuine and letting me share a moment with you this evening! You are so real and sweet. You just exert this positive energy. Thank you for your interest in my work, I appreciate that! I can’t wait until we do it again. I have to get you one!! You always have my support-from one artist to the next.
The Fine ass man that was with Sy. I am really tacky, I forgot your name. I was caught up in staring at your fine ass so hard, when we shook hands I was lost. He is hot y’all, his aura was so positive and he had style, and class…really attractive traits to go along with an attractive face.
Joi . It was a pleasure meeting you (MEOW) I am glad we got a chance to laugh for a second. You really are a cool woman of class…I love it. Thank you for letting me have my groupie moment tonight. I appreciate that. I appreciate your music and the realness that you serve; cause bitches can’t do it like you. Enjoy my book honey the way I enjoy your music until the next chapter, keep servin’ these bitches!
Keisha Jackson. You are the TRUTH. Period. I am waiting for you to emerge.
Nita. It’s always fun when we get together! Love it, Love you.
Rahsaan, always a pleasure to be in your company and to see you in your element doing what you do…hurry up and do a show so I can thoroughly luxuriate already!
And to you, my blog readers. I do it for you.
To Great Reading,
My day didn't start off normal. I got a break from taking my sister to school. Babies Daddy finally took responsibility for his parental duties. Finally.
After spending the day marinating and thoroughly luxuriating in my bed, I went to check the mail to find nothing more than bills. Bills, what a beautiful thing.
I went outside, and my blackout blinds in my room hid a crisp, windy, brisk day outside. The air clear of smog. The sun gleaming, beautiful day. I decided to get some air and go to my writing lab, "The Realm."
I changed my mind, and decided to cut a corner and hit the overpopulated Starblacks, The Magic Johnson owned, Starbucks in the Ladera Center.
I thought this would be a good place to endulge in some atmosphere and finish working on the re-writes for the sequel to At This Moment. And it was. I am glad I chose to go there.
On the way there of course I had to stop at the gas station to get my truck out of E, cause the girl has been on riding on excitement for over a week, I think. Fuck gas and this damn 2.90 a gallon, UH already. I need a bucket.
So while pumping gas I couldn't help but notice this fine ass light skinned boy. Medium-thick the way I like 'em, sportin' his new Cherokee. I was like yes, but I wasn't thinking about pullin' cause I was bein incognegro today. I am always like that when I leave the house unless it's appearance time.
So while caught up in his radiant glow, I noticed that it was none other than Mark. This dude I met while stopped at a red light on Crenshaw sometime last year. We had sex a couple of times. I really wanted him to be the one to break me in, but as it turns out, while yes he likes his dick sucked, he likes to be fucked too. I was disappointed, but still...
It was funny how we didn't speak. Exchanged eye contact that was it. Not really weird. But hmm. Anyway, (who is this dyke walkin' up in Starblacks?)
So I make it Starblacks, and I am on my cell talking to Aerin, who I was being completely rude to, excuse me doll, for that...I see my childhood-good-best friend Reesey and her sister Jacky sittin' out on the patio lookin' pushed enjoyin' all the good pieces of dick walkin' around. So Reesey goes "Excuse me," and I was like oooh look who it is. We were all incognegro, hats, glasses, and all. It was a trip we all have the same M.O. crazy.
It was good seeing them, especially since it was my first social, outing this week.
So we gossiped, talked about boys, dinner, and we even saw this stripper from the catch, come to find out that Reesey went to school with, (damn dude walkin' by looks good as fuck, damn how can I be down?) then she calls Kia, her high school homegirl and dishes her the tea. Messy ass.
So we sat out there two hours, before I decided to work. I got up and went in and there was nowhere to sit or plug up my laptop. I guess I am not the only negroidian C.E.O. that likes to look creative, smart, suave, and debonair at Starblacks at 2 in the afternoon. Whatever, so I drive to the next one.
I finally got a chance to catch up on my work. It was very cathartic. I wrote about one of the many conversations my cousin Tuesday and I had.
Tuesday died in January. But I wrote of a specific conversation and it summed up the way I had been feeling over the last week, because I had been in that space before. I thought about what she said and it took me back, writing it down. She was such a good person and she was really the only one in my family that I could verbalize things to, and she would understand without me going into great detail about the whole situation.
She would always know exactly what to say to get me back on track. She was the one who had my best interest, mentally and emotionally. She was that balance that I needed, the one everyone needs.
In saying that, it just reminds me how I shouldn't allow people to control who I am. It's easy to let that happen, especially if they are your family or you are close to them, fuck if you live with them.
Today I realized that there is always someone in life who reminds us not to take life for granted, and to accept things as they are. Find a way around them and move on, without hurting yourself too much. Who does it for you?
As I sit across from this paraplegic woman in Starbucks, I had to stop and think what must life be like for her. How do people treat her? What does she think? It makes me more appreciative of life, and it's not so bad after all. It could be worse.
Sometimes we think our small insignificant problems outweigh everyone else's, and we shut down when we don't need to. But just as always God sends someone to remind you telling you you're oversleeping. And we all need it, sometimes more than others.
I am looking forward for the things ahead. For today the wind has blown away all of the smog in my mind that paralyzes my thinking, and the ability to be who I am, in my element. The Sun has shined its ray's on me to rejuvenate so I can wake up tomorrow and face a new task and overcome obstacles placed on my track.
What a wonderful life...
Plaque is building up again. Not on my teeth. Somewhere in my mind, where it often isn't. I've been boggled lately by the complexities in my life, that aren't relevant to a lot of people's struggles, but people can relate to me one way or another. One thing that I did decide today, I am going to stop talking about my issues with people. Except you the reader, it seems as if you're the only one with the unbiased opinion. Everyone else in my life, seems to know what's better for me than me. And it's fucking irritating. I especially hate those who "have all the answers," and I definitely hate the bitches that hold the key to life in their coochie.
A lot of things have been bothering me lately. I am not too happy with the direction my book is going in, I am mad that my mother allows that nigga to zap the zest out of her life. I miss my father. I've been dealing with that more so since I was 18. He died when I was 6 years old. His birthday was on Tuesday and he would have been 46. That has been a void in my life since I was 6. I just spend days thinking about how different my life would have been with Mr. Trent Jackson Sr. around. I want to be in love...Who doesn't. I'm just now coming to grips with my cousins death. It's really hitting me hard that she's gone...She died in January and it's a delayed reaction...And to think people actually try to talk you out of thinking that having a delayed reaction isn't apart of grieving, pickup a psych book bitch. And though my problems may seem insignificant to some, because some of yall hoes haven't experienced shit in life, but your parents divorce (not that's not some heavy stuff to deal with) doesn't mean what I go through isn't any less of an issue. I really hate when people try to tell you how to deal with your life, I really do. Bitch who certified you to be my therapist? I mean I've dealt and been through this far, I'll be okay, I just need my space.
I was thinking today, how my mom blamed herself for me being molested and what it must feel like as a parent to have to deal with that. I couldn't be a parent. I wouldn't make a good one, I could if I tried, but no...
I was thinking about how my Grandmother must have felt when she got murdered...by her own Grandson. Was she happy? What was the last thing she ate? Did she know I loved her?
What my Dad must have thought when he got murdered. Did he think about me? Was he ready to die? Was he happy? What kind of life did he lead? Does he know how much I would have liked to have had him as a father?
Why do we as people worry about the things that we can't control? Why do we sit and think about the what if's? Why do we let other people make us feel that we are less than? Why do we fall into the traps and games of people who want to see us down?
I felt like this when I turned 18, some years ago. I left Los Angeles soon after that, and found myself in a place of mental freedom. I was allowed to be myself without the constraints of family and friends. I could go to a new place and start over without the history of the story, our lives. I could deal with my issues, I mean really deal with them-and know how to not be in that space of "thinking." I think it's time for me to venture off again to find the person that once emerged from the tragedy. The same person that exists now, that is buried in plaque. He is peeking out, waving his hand, waiting for the signal, the sign, the lead; his strength to gain confidence, to get up and rise like the phoenix.
As I sit here and think about what I need right now to be productive and to make me happy-I know I need to make some massive changes. I know that I need to get out of Los Angeles and breathe some fresh air. Have a moment to myself without running into the past. In the grocery store, down Crenshaw, at the Cheesecake Factory. I what I need and fuck a bitch who tries to tell me that leaving isn't the solution. Would you tell that to a woman who was in an abusive relationship? I need to get rid of dead weight, these people who are against me and provide more negative energy disguised as "friendship" from the fuck around me. And finally: FOCUS. I've done it before. I can do it again and continue to do it.
So. I've got some moves to make. Am I the only one that's mad that Nikko got voted off American Idol? Fuck them bitches! If Scott Savols Michelin-marshmallow man lookin ass can stay up there along with that damn Anthony Federov then Nikko has every right to be up there. Thas aiight. He's gonna show y'all bitches, just like I'm gonna do. They can put that where? Back there!
Cop Faith Evans CD! She is the truth!
Shot Outs: Myself, Brandi Jade Thomas, Blogger#31905, T. Carter, and V. Smith
Fuck: Bitches who drink Haterade.
When my mom called my dorm room September 24, 2001 and told me she was pregnant, I laughed so hard. In my head I was like she is out of her fuckin' mind. I am too old to be
replaced-yikes. The situation was already complex. My mom and my sisters dad were dating for 7 years, and they were broken up when my mom found out she was pregnant. That was crazy enough in itself.
So my mom decides to keep the baby (obviously) while during the course of the pregnancy my mom is calling me in Louisiana, telling me the trials of her pregnancy with her new baby daddy. How he's smoking around her, the arguing, the reason why they're not together, him being a damn drunk, etc...
That December my mom had to be hospitalized because her lungs were filled with fluid. It was a week before I came home for Christmas break, so after finals and everything I fly home, mom is still in the hospital and she has complications with her pregnancy. My mom literally begged me to stay at home and help her the spring semester. I didn't want to. I did not want to stop my life to help her and this new baby. Not that I was jealous, but she, her family, and her issues were the reasons why I left Los Angeles, and all of a sudden she needs me. I told her no, repeatedly.
January had rolled around and she hemorrhaged, and got really ill. I ended up staying. Which ended up being three years.
Fast forward to April 2002. My sister is born three months early. The situation worsens. Her dad becomes more of a deadbeat, tries to get sole custody of my sister, has his dyke sister pull me out of the closet, hit my mom, I kick his ass on the front lawn, leaving out so much. But Three years a restraining order and a court order later I hate his stupid ass.
But here is my irritation, since you're getting the condensed version. My mom has to be to work at 7:00, I don't have to do shit that damn early but sleep. Neither does her father. He gets off of work at 11 p.m. My sister just started pre-k and the school opens at 7 a.m. My sisters dad is an asshole and is putting unfair pressure on my mother, "I'm not taking her to school..." So since I am available during the day and I promote my book and my other projects in the evening or late at night, the burden falls on me.
In all of my selfish ways, I do not, will not, and can not alter my life anymore for children that aren't my responsibility. I feel bad for the child in all of this because her parents are both equally stupid. But it's unfair to me to stop my life (even if I ain't doin' anything but regrouping from a hangover) to help two grown adults who are suppose to have it together.
I agreed to take my sister to school. Only because I am responsible, if nothing else. I did it because it's the right thing to do. But I swear some of these Black men (NIGGAS) need to get their shit together and step up to the muthafuckin plate and stop bullshittin' around blamin' everything on that white man with the staff.
I feel like singing Fantasia's baby momma song, because women, truly are the backbone.
Part 4 comes tomorrow. By the way I am depressed, so excuse that. I'll be back tomorrow with something prolific.
I guess I am allotted one day.
I recently did an event. I didn't charge for the event, I just said buy the books, I'll come and sign, etc. I did that. I told the party that I would discount the books at 10.00 each instead of 15.95. So the total came up to 150.00, which is way less than what I would have made if I didn't do the discount. I get to the event. Party didn't have the money. Me being the nice, new author that I am, I said I'll do it anyway, just have my money by tomorrow. Tomorrow came and went and no call from the party. I called the party and no answer. Left a message and sent a nice, general email. I got a response saying "Sorry, couldn't find your number, will call tomorrow." I left my number in the email. Yesterday was the second tomorrow, no call.
MUTHAFUCKA IF YOU SO HAPPEN TO READ THIS BLOG. YOU HAVE UNTIL MONDAY APRIL 4TH, 2005 HIGH NOON TO RUN ME MY MUTHAFUCKIN MONEY. IF YOU DON'T COURT PAPERS WILL BE FILED AT 12:30 P.M. AND YOU WILL BE SERVED. NOT ONLY WILL YOU PAY ME, YOU WILL PAY ME AT 15.95 PER BOOK, PLUS INTEREST, BITCH. I AM A PROFESSIONAL. ASK ANYONE WHO DOES BUSINESS WITH ME, I AM PROFESSIONAL AND COURTEOUS. IF YOU CONTINUE TO FUCK WITH MY COINS, YOU WILL WISH THAT YOU WOULD HAVE NEVER MET ME. YOU GOT THE TEA? I HATE TO BRING OUT MY GHETTO QUEEN SIDE. MY MOMMA IS FROM THE PROJECTS. DON'T BE FOOLED BY THAT SOFT VOICE AND THE GIRLISH GRIN, BITCH IS CRAZY AND SO IS HER OFFSPRING. INCLUDING THAT DAMN THREE YEAR OLD.
So even when you try to be nice, patient, and professional people still want to try to dick you out of money. Somebody needs to tell the party who they are dealing with. I am cool and shit, but I have an operation to run, in addition to clearing debt. So thats my two cents for Sunday. Off to devise a plan for more success from the mind of Trent. Off to the bathtub to luxuriate. I made chocolate lava cake today too. So when I get out the tub its me that cake, one of Janet Jackson's DVD and the ceiling fan.
There is nothing wrong with wanting the best of life. There is nothing wrong with wearing multiple hats, being talented across the board, and expanding my mind to new and different things. There are so many things that I want to accomplish, that I will accomplish in my life. I will not let anyone stop me from achieving that. I'm already a writer/author. My next ventures will include that of Editor-In-Chief, Publicist, Singer, Entertainer, Actor, Teacher, Lawyer (yeah hoe, I am going to Law School, Fall 06) Is there anything I won't set out to do? Probably not. I am the multi-faceted, illustrious, suave, debonair, Trent Jackson...
Today as I laid across my couch, my mom came in and said, "Oh now you're starting a magazine? Lord please help my son and give him guidance!" Is my mom not burnt the fuck out? Now y'all know she'll be the first bitch in line with her hand out talkin' bout gimme. Like she was when she saw that royalty check. People like that have nothin' comin' from me, I don't give a fuck who you are. And trust she didn't get shit. I ain't spent it yet. I want I.R.S. and B of A to hurry up and clear me, so I can pay my auntie and my uncle, and go shop. But she still ain't gettin' nothin', she has to be taught a lesson...so y'all readers don't go postin' no bullshit about how I should give my momma some loot. If yo momma was triflin' would you drop her some lira? Anyway...
There is nothing wrong with trying to do everything. Yes, I was sittin' up on the couch pushed, reading my how to do book. The same kind of book I read when I wanted to publish my book. I am working on a magazine. It's about time for a new, fresh magazine that caters to the non hip-hop oriented, young, smart, socialite, Black culture. I am going to create it. Watch me.
I am working on my new book, and a stage play at the moment. Then I'll move on. My whole premise is to change away the world views the Black experience, Black men, and Black homosexuals. I think that we need a voice to genuinely and vividly express the current issues and dilemmas that we experience. I elect myself. Anyone want to join me? It's getting lonely at the top already.
1. Don't take advantage of the fact that I am her brother and I can babysit more often than you and her father! I have a cut off period, bring your ass over her when you get off of work, not when you feel like it. This is why I avoid keeping her, cause ya'll wear it out. Just because I am a writer and I sit around and write all day and control my empire doesn't mean that I want to be watching 3 year olds after hours. The last time I check my motor skills were in tact.
2. stricken from the record.
3. I want some raw vegetables from the Souplantation. But I am not leaving my box with a three year old in tow. God that child know's she gets it from her momma.
4. Did I tell you that I hate falling asleep before 5 P.M.? This throws off my writing cycle.
5. I am pissed off that regular gas is 2.55 a gallon, and I have a 30 gallon tank. I will be walkin after dark like a hooker in a lop-sided wig and dirty boots.
I'll be back....
I bought a car on Monday and I have until this Monday to decide if I am going to keep it. I am not feeling the 290$ insurance rate a month, enough of the small talk.
Last night I accepted my calling to help our youth. I successfully completed my discussion with LifeWorks Mentoring. It was very interesting, but last night it was made really clear that our youth need a voice, a figure like me, who can go through a lot at a young age and still make it out okay. I am very glad that I was able to go and meet with them and have discussion. The youth were very interested and inquizzitive. And it made me realize a lot about myself.
Where is my momma? I usually see her around 9 a.m. I called her and she ain't called me back. I am a bit worried. If she's not here by 1 I am going on a search.
(Let The Random Thoughts Begin...)
Is there something wrong with datin' a white man? Especially in all of my blackness, would he find that intimidating? I mean I like to have racial talk. I am not racist, just aware of my Black experience, and what it means to me to be a Black man in the White world.
I knew Usher was gay, or at least had sex with men. The Pope is dead, and I am next in line, I'm tired of stupid boys. When will all of you realize that I am fire and desire, and the man of everyone's dreams? When I get my million dollar contract I am not gonna have time for any of ya'll. I love ghetto boys. Anyway. It's a great day, the weather is cute, orange is my favorite color, and I'm gorgeous. And I am so tired of Wendy Williams talkin about Whitney Houston. So what she mixes coke and meth together. Light skinned boys are overrated and I am tired of crushing on them, they have a complex. I am excited that my family is coming back together, and I do love my mother contrary to what I've been through with her. Run me my money when the sun goes down I will walk my 4 miles and I will drink water.
Peace and Blessings, until something else transpires today.
I pray for the insecure.