Im back at Blush, what can I say, um I’m a clean hustla. I play where the clean hustlas play.
Stripping is starting to bother me. I love what I do but when you don’t have a goal, you feel like wasted space. Wasted time. Wasted piece of human being. Before I continue, I am bipolar and have PTSD. I say “I am bipolar because these last few years, my disease has been running my life. I have not been able to control it to where I have and live with it.
Anyway my money from dancing goes into treating my disease. Not drugs, but small things to keep me somewhat functioning. Getting by, temporary, small, purposeless things. Instead of having a goal like going to college, or buying a house, or making a business plan, my goal is to get through the next 24 hours productively.
I feel like I’ve lost my ambition. I can’t wait to start traveling and stripping. I feel like this will make me ambitious again because I will need to make money. I miss the fire in wanting to be the best ME.
Dozing , goodnight
Let’s stick to FACTS. I’m my own boss FACTS. I run my own Ishhh ya bishhh
Who? What? When? How? Yea it’s all up to me FACTS.
Calling me cocky, arrogant, etc. OPTIONS.
I’m an independent contractor FACTS.
No more uniforms, I mean evening dresses. Whoever heard of a strict dress code at a strip club?
No more extra charges when my customers use a credit card. No more 1/3 cut to VIP.
No more techno. Or requesting ethnic lol ethnic music. I’m black and proud of it!
No more $20, $30, $40 late fees or dumbass schedules.
This club played too many fucking Looney Tunes FACTS? Don’t you agree?
Well, India/Sasha is no longer working at Blush Gentlemen Club in Pittsburgh FACTS.
The word friend I don’t trust it nor its definition. People say there are good friends and bad friends. A simple definition for friend is someone you know, like and trust. So if a friend betrays your trust, how can /she be your friend? Or now I guess you lump them into the category “bad friend.”
Having a friend means you are submitting your emotions and lifestyle to be vulnerable to another human being. And regardless of the outcome, good or bad, you are willing to commit to the relationship. I’m not afraid of the being a friend, or being let down. I just don’t believe its worth the time or energy. Some people are in your life for a season or a lifetime. But I cant let anyone steal chapters of my life. Selfish? I know. Now your thinking “that explains it.”
I know you agree with me on some levels. Let’s be honest friendship takes sacrifice, annoying sacrifices. Example #1: In high school, there’s always those group of girls that followed you e to the bathroom. And you really wanted to take a shit ALONE (obviously). So you don’t go, you just put on some lip gloss and ask to go to the bathroom during class. What a shitty sacrifice. Literally. Example #2 happens alllll the tiiiiime: You want to go to the bar, your friends wants to hit the club, or strip club. So everytime you go out your night isn’t exactly as you want it to go. And at the end of the night, not everyone gets laid or theres the one friend that gets trashed and now your babysitting. So typical. I’m so free of that kind of responsibility. Thats right, I’m living the life.
Which is brings me to the highlight of Sunday night. I was so pissed at the wasted efforts of the night. When I fail, my body pays for it. I exercise for hours. One of the experienced dancers told me she didn’t mind showing me some pole tricks to work on. I
thought it was strange that another dancer would stay an hour after work to help me step my game up. Hustlers don’t help other hustlers when they have the same hustle. Not if your a true “go-get-er” (which I’m learning right now is not a word).
There is a such thing as stripper etiquette but this is a cut throat business. Time is money. I’m willing to pay, because I live this concept every day. Though sometimes I exchange time for knowledge, I couldn’t understand why she did it the reciprocal. Maybe she’s used to being a friend. Maybe she’s used to making annoying sacrifices. An hour after a horrible night shift instead of cuddling with her boo. Then she gave me a bottle of grip powder for my hands. Like she wanted me to do good, even if it risked being better than her. All I know is, she reminded me of an older sister that night. Something like a friend. Too bad I don’t have those. Not anymore