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♪♫