With Dignity and Respect, I Bid You a F-U

So my censors have been off and I've been dealing with a variety of emotions since the XFactor audition. I'm in acceptance of the fact it wasn't a reflection on me or a lack of talent on my part but I'm still pissed that some douche bag put me in the wrong group and essentially killed my opportunity to get thru to the next round.

Something in me has snapped again.

I feel tired and angry. I'm tired of being nice. I'm tired of taking the high road. I'm tired of not getting anywhere. I'm still stuck in this two bedroom apartment with a tool of a landlord, who just yanked out our washer and dryer in retaliation of a complaint we made about him to the city. I'm tired of people in positions of power taking advantage of the little guy.

I'm tired of being a little guy.

The other day I took my son to watch me play dodgeball. We parked in the new West Hollywood Library parking lot. It says one hour free and an extra hour free if you are at the park. It's after 10 p.m. when we get to the lot. The park closes at 10 p.m. I go to the security guard to have my ticket validated. He says he can't. The park has to do that. I tell him, the park says you guys do that. Matter of fact - your sign says you do that. He won't budge. He won't validate. He says I should follow the rules like everyone else which sets me on fire inside. See, following the f'n rules seems to be my problem. I'm doing and I ain't going nowhere.

I look at my kid. I don't want make a scene. I go to my car and realize I have forgotten my purse. I have enough change to pay for my ticket if he validates my parking. He won't. He won't give his supervisors name. He tells me to leave my car or call the police but he's unable to let me out. No one is home so we had to walk a good twenty minutes to get home, me and my kid at 10:30 at night because some scrub security guard is on a power trip.

I get home. I get my purse. I call one of my bestie's because I'm pretty pissed off at this point. I tell her I want to act like a lady. I want to be dignified but I want to punch him in the neck and shove his balls down his throat. I pray to God that I'll do the right thing and just walk away from the situation. But someone has to pay. With every step I take, I realize I have to say something. I can't let one more person get away with being an F'n power hungry moron. The guy at the XFactor audition had the same attitude. "They'll call you when their ready. We know what we are doing." Blah, blah, blah. That's why my ass missed my audition time, you jack wagon. I half hope the guy won't be there and I half hope he will. So I get there and he's right by my car with the other security guard guy. Both looking at me, he's smirking.

My head says walk away Christina. My body keeps moving towards him. My bestie is on the phone. I smile. I look at him and say "you could have helped me but you didn't and it's probably because your mad because you live in your mama's basement and you a little dick." I followed this with about 20 expletives and told him to have a good night, you f'n asshole. Not exactly the picture of dignity and class but it felt good. Then I felt bad for feeling good but in my head he deserved it. I don't live in a bad neighborhood but I had my kid with me. He could have done something and for whatever reason, he didn't. My role was I left my purse at home. I have entitlement issues and I had expectations. I do a lot for people and he doesn't know this but a break was what I was looking for.

Then I get a call from my landlord telling me he's going to make our lives hell because we asked him to fix things in our apartment that should have been fixed seven years ago. He's trying to sell the building and we wanted it on record as to what needed to be done so there were no surprises or problems. He tells me I've cut off my nose to spite my face and if he doesn't sell the building, we will be out of the street. Really? My head says don't say anything Christina. My mouth says karma will get you one day asshole.

But will it? Do bad people pay for being bad?Does taking the high road, sticking to your morals and doing the right thing pay off? Does any of this matter anyway? People tell me, God has a better plan for you Christina. Really? Better than turning 40, renting a two-bedroom apartment, not having a job, savings or being able to make a living doing what I love and not knowing where rent is coming from next month? I work my ass off. I don't give up. I fight for people to be able to own their space, to be who they are and to find their gifts. Yet it feels like I can't catch a damn break. I've got stupid people talking crap to me like I'm nothing because they think can. I'm done.

Stay positive they say. Don't be negative. Maybe I'm just being a realist. Nice doesn't cut it. Doing good ain't payin' the bills. When I work with those kids, do they even care? Will what I'm doing matter in the end? If I take my anger out of the picture, I know that what we do matters. I have a great kid and have people that love me. This process has brought me closer to that pure joy I used to get singing as a child. If people had not taken the time to tell me I had a gift and shouldn't give up, I don't know where I'd be. The question is where am I? Right now it feels like nowhere. No one still knows me. The Big Stage still eludes me. My bank account is rolling on zero and my CD's are still in my closet unsold.

Well at least I don't live in my mama's basement. . .