Womanizing Not Allowed

One thing I forgot about being on the streets, is how people view me. People meaning men in particular. It amazes me how on a 98 degree summer day, if I walk down the street wearing shorts, or a sundress, so many  men feel as if they have the right to hit on me. To smack my butt. To assume I am a prostitute, and try to pick me up I don't understand our culture. How is it, that if a woman gets raped, most people assume that it was her fault? "She was asking for it" they say, as if that makes everything ok.
I'm sorry, since when is it wrong to wear shorts? It's hot outside. Just because I happen to look nice, does not give you the right to objectify me. Just because I'm black does not mean I'm gonna drop it and twerk for you. I'm not going to get into your car because you're sticking a fifty out the window at me.  I refuse to become some sex object just because media tells you it's ok to treat me as one. You know, I feel sorry for people who choose to view others as an object. I pity you, because it shows that you were treated the same way, and it's all you know.
I'm sorry, but just because I'm young and in shape does not mean I owe you a strip tease. Just because I dress nice does not mean that I dressed for your eyes. Yes, sometimes I wear clothes that make me sexier than the average person. I wear heels. I wear leather. I wear lipstick. I have wild hair. That's who I am. And when I am dressed in an outfit that appears sexy, I am still careful to carry myself with poise and grace. I am not a woman. I am a lady. I treat others the way I want to be treated. I don't believe in judging someone just by the way he or she looks; and when I am dressed modestly, I believe I deserve the same respect I give to everyone. Sure, I'm on the street, but I don't believe in acting "ratchet" just because that's what people assume I am. I am not a "big booty ho" I am not a hooker. I do not work the streets, and I would thank you kindly to realize that.
Predatory behavior is not only vulgar and disgusting. But it is illegal. You might think that whistling at a thirteen year old girl is giving her a compliment, but by law, it is considered as sexual harassment. Pulling up next to a girl on a street curb and telling her to "hop in" is abusive behavior, and is punishable by a large fine, and time in prison. Some people may take this lightly, but I believe everyone deserves respect.
You know that saying "You have to give respect to get it"?
Screw that.
Just give it, and the getting will take care of itself.

C'est La Vie.
Viva La Vida.
And Fuck the System.
Peace.
Signed, hot_tunes♪♫i

Where I Belong

Do you ever just want a change of scenery? Ever just want to get away from it all? To become someone completely different? To adopt a new identity, and leave it all behind?
I did.
They're calling it the quarter life crisis. The same symptoms of a midlife crisis, only instead of going out and hooking up with people half their age, or buying sports cars, teens are changing completely. Finding their true identities and stepping out into the world completely different. Adopting their true personas, and seeking adventure.
Me? I decided to hit the streets. It's where I'm most comfortable, and where I feel like I belong. I was never meant to sit around in suburbia waiting for something exciting to happen.
So I decided to give up the comforts of home. Adopt my old name, dye my hair, and return to my real identity. I'm the girl who wears leather corsets, and bikini bottoms on a daily basis just because she can. I'm the girl who carries a knife in her studded boots, because she is not one to be messed with. I'm the girl who wears leaves a ring of red lipstick on her coffee cup, and blows kisses at whoever she wants to just because she can.
It's exciting, and even though it's familiar, it's strange. I've been living that middle class life for so long, I almost forgot what it was like to fend for myself out here. But I love it. Leaving was the best thing I think I've done in a while. Life on the streets is perfect for me. I can hit up every underground street dance competition, and not have any responsibilities. Some call me crazy. They say the streets are too dangerous for a teenage girl by herself. I just laugh. For someone like me the suburbs are a death trap.
I have street smarts. I know where it isn't safe for me to go after dark. I don't intentionally put myself in dangerous situations. I am always armed, and I know how to fight like hell.
I know how to keep myself safe, but I don't avoid sketchy situations just because they might not guarantee my safety. I've had my life threatened before. I've been shot. I've been stabbed. I've been attacked. I can honestly say that there is nothing on the street that truly scares me anymore. I have my connections of course. I never truly ride solo. If you want to survive on the street you can't. I don't run with the homies, but I have connections with them.
I love it here. And I honestly don't know if I ever want to go back. I tried that suburban life, and it's not for me. I can play my music and do my dance right here on the street where I belong. It's the life.

C'est La Vie.
Viva La Vida.
And Fuck the System.
Peace.
Signed, hot_tunes♪♫

The Other Side of the City

It's amazing how quickly it can all fall apart. How easily someone can snap leaving disaster in their wake. How suddenly hopes and dreams can shatter. How fast someone can go from having it all, to having nothing. How unexpectedly someones reality can collapse around them.
I've been lucky to always have enough, but as I've looked closer at the people in the community,around me, it makes me even more grateful for the things I do have. I don't mean the people in middle class suburbia, but the lowest of the low class. The 'bums' the homeless, the people who usually don't get a second glance in the street. If you look closely, you can see traces of the lives they used to live. The gold bangle on the girl leaning up against the cheap hotel waiting for her next customer. The way she speaks with a slight east coast accent. The rare shade of dye in her hair. It suggests that she once enjoyed the luxuries of the upper class before being cast out, or running away. The dirty man sitting on the sidewalk with a guitar, busking for his next meal. At closer glance, he is holding a Gibson Les Paul, an $1,600 instrument. The only remnant of a carefree youth spent playing music before the band split up, and fame drifted away to nothing, leaving him stranded with only a guitar and a shattered dream.
Observing these people is heart wrenching, and moving. This is why I have chosen to live among them for a while. I packed a backpack and took to the streets for the summer. I am now writing this in an inner city homeless shelter. I needed a break from family, and I needed a new perspective. So I'm here. And I love it. These people are so open and so friendly know all the secrets of the city. Where to go hear the best music. To meet the coolest people. All the underground street dance clubs. Places to connect with people I would never have met had I continued to live in oblivion. And well I know that I can always go back and resume my life at any point in time, I have no desire to return any time soon. This is my life now, and I love it.

C'est La Vie.
Viva La Vida.
And Fuck the System.
Peace.
Signed, hot_tunes♪♫

Never Doing That Again

So I had a pretty miserable weekend.
One of my 'friends' invited me to go with him and his family to Summer Jam over the weekend. He and I had never been a thing (I'd made out with him a couple of times for some weed, but he is a horrible kisser). But unfortunately, he is really into me. I mean I never really gave him a reason not to be. Well anyway, since I really wanted to go to the concert, I decided to play the devoted girlfriend for the weekend. Let me just tell you, IT WAS MISERABLE!!! Not only was it hard to seem infatuated with him in front of his family, but the fact that I am completely disgusted with him as a person did not help at all.
I guess I shouldn't complain; I did get to see an awesome concert. But being there with him was just painful. For one thing, he has no sense of style. So when I come walking in looking awesome in my
leather corset, and studded leather boots (my standard uniform), and neon red hair, of course I'm turning heads. Getting compliments left and right, people asking me out on the spot, the usual. Well of course then he has to go acting all possessive because being with me made him feel cool or something. But he is so clingy. I mean constantly trying to hold my hand, and put his arms around me. Obviously trying to play up the whole "Check out my girlfriend" thing. I got so many pitying looks as we were walking, and when we went up to the pit, SO many people asked me why the hell I was with him. So many hot guys asked me to dance, and I couldn't dance with any of them. It was miserable. MISERABLE I tell ya! So many available cute guys who were interested in me, and I couldn't even give any of them my number. Anyway then that night, I hooked up with him so he would still think I was infatuated with him, but he is terrible in bed. I mean really awful. For starters, he's fat. And out of shape. And hairy. In other words, it was one of the worst nights I have ever had (with the exception of the night after that). Anyway, after that, he would not stop trying to cuddle me and pull me up against him. Uggghhh.
The next day wasn't any better. I rocked a neon bikini top and ripped jeans, and then of course he totally harshed my mellow with shorts made out of who knows what and hideous tennis shoes. Anyway, afterward, he asked me to spend the night at his house, and since it was like two in the morning, and I was half asleep, I said yes without thinking. Well it turns out that not only does he still live with his mom (that didn't really bother me since he is eighteen), but he shares a room with his little brother (WTF?). Not just a room, but a bunk bed with Superman sheets, in a room with Spiderman curtains, and a Disney Cars poster hanging on the wall. Needless to say, I could not get out of there fast enough. And I can say honestly that if you feel the need to keep your shirt on while getting it on, please stay the hell away from me.
But Monday, things got infinitely better. I went downtown to get some things done, and I got the usual amount of whistles and wolf calls. But one guy came up to me meaning to hook me up with his friend, but instead, we ended up talking, and walking, and sitting, and smoking, and drinking, and kissing, and one thing led to another, and we were getting it on on a fire escape. It was awesome. He is such a good kisser. We met up again today for lunch, and we talked and got to know eachother better. We didn't hold hands or kiss or anything, but I felt really close to him. He almost always picks up when I call, and he calls me back as soon as he can if he misses a call. We just hit it off.
It's funny how you can go from being miserable to having a great time in the space of just a couple days. We're going to see each other again, and I guess I'll see how things go :)
C'est La Vie.
Viva La Vida.
And Fuck the System.
Peace.
Signed hot_tunes♪♫