Finger in the Booty Ass Bitch

1/27/2016 11:53PM

So today began with reading a post on about the lack of diversity in publications. Litchrally 75 percent of editors are white women. And nobody apparently knows how to fix it. Lucky for everyone I have the answer.

Hire more people that aren’t just white women. Voila. Problem Solved. #YoureWelcome.

So after that vigorous round of problem solving my afternoon lead me to the epic Twitter Beef between Kanye and Wiz. It went in for hours until a one lined ETHER from Muva Rosebud herself, Amber Rose.   

Everything that came prior to this tweet is irrelevant. But the context revolves around Ye slut shaming Amber Rose…again. 

It’s so bizarre for me to watch Yeezy bash a woman he loved so much especially as a dude who loved his mom so much all as a means to put Kim K. on a pedestal. 

Even though Amber is mixed she is still a black woman so it’s hard not to think that plays a role in how people react to her sexuality in comparison to Kim’s. 

Kim also has a career built on the foundation of a sex tape…with Moesha’s little brother none the less.

But black women are on my mind today. I am one after all. So it’s hard not to think about it for even a day. 

Recently I have began to feel this guilt and shame in discussing all of the shit that comes with the territory. You don’t want to seem like you’re blaming all your shortcomings on race and gender but sometimes it really is the only common denominator. 

Anywho, I promise to get be out of my feelings by tomorrow.

Gas Lit

Ok so much was happening right now. Like so much. I am afraid of what people think of me. As a writer it’s paralyzing for a number of reasons.

What if my writing was trash? Like legitimately EVERYONE online was a journalist now. It really didn’t matter at all if you trained as long as you could churn out content for those clicks. 



These were thoughts I had on Saturday night. I am barely alive right now because I am so exhausted but I’ve had yet another epiphany. Here goes…

Nobody cares. Literally no one thinks anyone’s story is as important as their own. So I will just write and see what happens. I want to write as openly and honestly as I can because that is what I love to do. I’ve been DESPERATE to find people to write with. Real people. “Diverse” people (that’s code word for minorities.

In Oregon it was hard to tell your story at a workshop if you are the only black person there because suddenly your story about racism has made Everyone uncomfortable and guilt ridden and it’s borderline impossible to gauge whether what you have written is good or not because everyone is applauding your bravery for being black :/ 

But it proved to be a difficult task. And all of my stories remained untold. I couldn’t wait any longer. For other people’s approval. I have queried dozens of editors and all of them hate my pitches. I’m wordy and my story seems bizarre. Niche almost. So I will tell the tale myself on a blog that hopefully no one will read. 

If you are here for fine literature please ex it out of your browser. This will be ramblings from some of the darkest depths of my mind maybe…or a bunch of over exaggerations about my life. The goal is to write something every single day.

Ok so exhausted. Bye.

Closing thoughts: Hell yes for Blaque Chyna and Rob Kardashion. Phuck no for Joseph Fiennes as Michael Jackson. 


Johnny 5 is Alive

(I originally wrote this January 5th but never published it.)

Today started with a haze of exhaustion no different from any other day. The first alarm of 5 was when it began at 5:30am garnered by the hope that I would spring out of bed and go work out like I had been planning to do for the past 5 years of my life. Snooze. Then I fell in and out of consciousness and lulled back into a half sleep by the welcoming glow of my Facebook newsfeed. 

I went to work and I put on my makeup there bc there would be a meeting and more than just my team would be seeing me. I made it through my meeting and there was my boss. Lately he has become obsessed with me. I had seen this happen in the past. People didn’t want to see me skirting the rules. There was always a direct necessity for me to follow the rules and no one else. I watched as my other coworkers broke policies and I was the only one expected to obey his commands. 

He began hovering over my desk and sneaking up behind me to see if I was being submissive. I felt extremely helpless…if I went to HR he would look for another reason to fire me as revenge if I confronted him he would say it was my fault. I had one month left until we could choose another boss but I kind of felt like I had Stockholm at this point and I shouldn’t continue to let this slide. 

My mind was made up and it was a gamble I had to take. Before it went any further.