Not long ago, I was laid off and searching for jobs on craigslist. I was in a hurry with the constant reminder from my parents that my car insurance would be due and the severance check I received would wear out especially with my jiu jitsu hobby. I came up on an ad for a Sports Injury Center nearby that was looking for an office admin to assist with physical therapy and such. It had just been posted and said to apply in person so I woke up early the next day and drove down there. I was interviewed on the spot and got the job.

 Basically, the guy was creepy, he talked shit about people behind their backs, constantly controlled every aspect of his "girls," and his whole mode was "let me hire fit-looking girls and just have them do everything ever but not pay them a lot cause it's not like they have any real qualifications to be doing physical therapy but I'll make them think there's plenty of room for advancement and that what they're learning is valuable and that I really do care about them." I did laundry, put e-stim on people, faked that I knew what was wrong with the patients under his orders, cleaned, managed insurance billing, managed inventory, did customer service, the whole shabang. It got to the point that he was texting and calling me to talk about work on my off-days or when I had just left the office to say, "What should we do about the patient who's insurance isn't paying? He's totally a doofus, huh!?" And when I finally told him that I wasn't being paid enough to be constantly working even when I'm not at the office, he "demoted" me. Not long after I came in with a letter stating I was quitting and instead of talking to me in person, he had the new lady up front make sure I had a real signed letter and tell me that he "thanks me."

I think that was enough background for my intended story. One of his biggest clients (among the Disney execs, Ray J and Jermaine Jackson's wife) was this big ole gangster dude who apparently is Mayweather's promoter and sponsored people/girls and knew producers and had the inside scoop and knew the right people. After "Doc," as he was called, constantly bragged that I trained jiu jitsu to his patients and adamantly referred to me as "judo girl," this guy became interested telling me he'd sponsor me. I didn't actually believe him until I told him I was competing in Vegas for the 2010 Vegas Open and he came in one day and threw a hundred dollar bill onto the desk. He gave me his number, which was a voicemail only phone line. In order to get ahold of him, you had to call and leave a message. Then when he called back on a private number, you had to make sure you answered it since there was no way of calling him back directly. There was another girl in the office that had just started who was some weird chick aspiring to me a boxer/singer or something. She had an album from years before and this guy was inquiring to her, too. He was even helping the main bodybuilder dude in the gym get to Nationals or something. I knew he was legit in some form given that he was legitimately helping these other people achieve their goals.

So the next step after I got back from Vegas was to meet him at T.G.I.Friday's. He showed up with some other basketball model girl and other people kept showing up. Other girls that were either successful or getting there. Then the big dudes kept coming. Producers and the like. One guy had produced Christina Aguilera's albums among other names and the girl sitting next to me mentioned she was a singer and he had her singing on the spot. She was eating up the attention and I was sitting there, the only white person at the table feeling like I needed to get the fuck out. Nothing was really discussed but he asked if I had a bank account, needed my training fees covered, what I wanted from him and I left with it being pretty open ended but knew I'd be seeing him at the office. While no major promises were made, he was showing off his connections or something.

 The next time he hit me up I met him to get dinner again. I figured that he was picking me up from where he told me to meet him so that we could meet up with another shitload of people. When we got to driving, we ended up at Chart House in Malibu. Just the two of us. As we had dinner he insisted on asking why I had never questioned his intentions or wanted to know more about him. He also wanted to know, again, what I wanted from him. The conversation was seriously awkward but I refused to believe it was the worst situation. I had proof this guy was real and enjoyed putting his money where he saw it would blossom. Why would I be any different? He proceeded to tell me that I just "have something about me" and I'm "unique" and "unlike all the other girls." He asked if I had bills that I needed paid and what I was willing to do in return. He wanted to be my sugar daddy. I played the dumb card and he tried hinting more and more. I finally just said I wasn't into that and he took me back to my car.

 I  at first refused to believe that I was being hit up to do sexual favors in exchange for being taken care of financially because I was looking for some sponsor to throw hundred dollar bills at me when I have a competition coming up. It was the most awkward situation I've ever been put into and at least now I know what I can kind of expect when someone's intent isn't true. At this point the only sponsor I'd be willing to have is Koral and for that, I've gotta bust my ass and win some world championships. Two (or many) goals in one as I see it and I am in no way in search of shortcuts to success, the easy way out, or an excuse to avoid hard work. The guy may have known Tupac and partied with him in the back room at the very restaurant he took me to, but sexually pleasing a 50-something fat worn out "producer" would be the last thing on my list of things I would do if my only choice was that or suicide. Nothing is that easy. Unless you sell your soul.

I never intended this blog to be anything more than a typical training/competition log for my jiu jitsu life but it has turned into a diary of my endeavor in life as a whole. My trials and tribulations have not only to do with my injuries and losses but also my low tolerance levels for travel agents and my lack of motivation to write among other things. Through writing this blog I've really been able to find that writing is a huge passion of mine. Sharing the thoughts in my head and having people read them is satisfying beyond belief.

Like my preface in the original post of this blog, I have no credibility under my belt as a writer. Looking back, I took a liking to it growing up but I have no real story to tell. I don't have a degree, I didn't live through a heartfelt tragedy. I hold no moral codes or hidden truths. But I do feel that I can write.

Tonight I saw the movie The Help. It's about racial discrimination and a young woman determined to expose the life and perspectives of the black maids in the south back in the 1960s. It made me laugh and it made me cry but the best part was Emma Stone's role of a passionate, driven, unique-minded individual with the ability to write. By watching this, I know that I not only want to write for a living but I want to write a book that will make people feel and perhaps expose them to a reality or relate to me on a personal level.

Maybe I had a hard time getting people to listen to me as a child and that's the reason for my constant urge to splurge out my thoughts on a regular basis. I may talk about other people sometimes or constantly joke or even complain a lot but the intuition I hold and the ability I have to put my thoughts down in concrete form can and will get me far. Believe it or not, I have "shit" to say. When Romulo told me to go be a writer after seeing how excited and motivated I was about my zine's first issue, I was offended. I was upset from a loss and putting all of this weight on my shoulders to be undefeated early on. I took it as if he was telling me to give up on jiu jitsu and move on to this new direction I was taking but I understand it a little better now. Sure, I can compete in jiu jitsu but my true "thing", my niche is in writing. I'm an emotional person and in fact, the more sensitive I am to a subject whether it be anger, sadness guilt or sympathy, etc, the better I write. Research papers are not my forte. Opinions are. That's worth somethin', right?