Some stories are about the people you met.
Others are about the person you became because of them.
I remember when Debbie used to visit Las Vegas.
The good.
The bad.
The glamorous.
And the heartbreaking.
She would tell stories about VIP parties, famous people, exclusive tables, and unforgettable nights.
But then there were the stories nobody wanted to hear.
Stories about entering through kitchen doors just to hide her presence.
Stories about how she was treated when she attempted to dine publicly.
Stories that made you understand that being invited into the room did not necessarily mean you were considered equal once you got there.
I remember.
I remember learning about Sammy Davis Jr. and the battles he faced simply trying to perform, succeed, and exist in spaces that didn't always welcome him.
And then there were Don King's boxing events.
Those were some of Debbie's favorites.
She would talk about who she saw.
Who she met.
Who she sat next to.
Who was at the table.
Who said what.
She remembered everything.
And now, when I look at my own life, I realize something:
My legacy isn't about the subplot characters.
It's about the woman who helped mold me into who I became.
YOU THOUGHT YOU KNEW ME
Let's be honest.
There are still people who don't truly see people of color as equals.
There are still people who can comfortably engage with "us" as long as we remain inside the box they created for us.
Yes.
I'm one of them.
You know...
The Black person you feel comfortable enough to make small talk with.
The person you may invite into certain spaces.
The person you may appreciate—as long as they don't challenge your perception of who they're supposed to be.
But then something happens.
You look again.
And suddenly...
I'm an entrepreneur.
I'm self-employed.
I'm building companies.
I'm creating opportunities.
I'm investing my own money into my vision.
I'm becoming the CEO of my own destiny.
And suddenly...
I challenge your understanding of who you thought I was.
That's okay.
I'm not here to make everybody comfortable.
I'm here to build.
I DON'T LIE TO MYSELF
I'm a realist.
I don't lie to myself, and I won't lie to you.
Reading my blog is optional.
You don't have to agree with me.
You don't have to support me.
You don't even have to like me.
But if you continue to visit my page, I appreciate you.
Supporter.
Follower.
Observer.
Skeptic.
Curious onlooker.
Everyone is welcome.
Because whether you agree with me or not, you're witnessing something:
I'm building something bigger than myself.
And that's the part that matters.
ACCESS IS NO LONGER AUTOMATIC
I select and choose who gets access to my life.
Period.
My personal and professional agenda requires me to be intentional about the people around me.
I want relationships with people who have vision.
People who are building.
People who understand ambition.
People who understand growth.
People who understand that sometimes you have to leave yesterday behind to make room for tomorrow.
Everybody doesn't get access.
And I'm finally comfortable saying that.
$2,500 AND COUNTING
I have two trainings remaining.
I'm focused on my current contract while simultaneously questioning its long-term value.
At the same time, I'm strategically planning my launch.
Because I'm not interested in simply saying I'm starting a business.
I want to build something that works.
I've personally invested more than $2,500 of my own money into making this dream happen.
Nobody handed me the blueprint.
Nobody guaranteed the outcome.
I'm betting on myself.
And I'm doing it in Las Vegas, where the world is my stage.
I'm excited about networking.
I'm excited about Sunday's Concessions.
I'm excited about making new connections.
I'm excited about taking what I learned in Chicago and doing it differently here.
Same woman. Bigger vision.
THE PINTO PROPERTY
And then there is the Pinto property.
I'm not going to pretend everything worked out exactly the way I planned.
It didn't.
I've exhausted every option.
My original plans changed.
And I've reached a point where reality has to override emotion.
If I cannot cover a second mortgage for the amount above the appraisal, then continuing to pursue the property simply doesn't make financial sense.
So I'm letting that option go.
Not because I failed.
Because sometimes changing direction is the strategy.
My attention is now focused on finding another location that makes sense for both my personal and professional needs.
I'm not chasing a property just because I wanted it.
I'm looking for the right opportunity.
There's a difference.
I REFUSE TO CARRY IT FORWARD
One thing I know for certain:
I refuse to carry the pain of my past into my future.
I can acknowledge it without living in it.
I can remember it without becoming it.
I can learn from it without allowing it to control me.
My past has already taken enough from me.
It doesn't get my future too.
LIBRA SEASON HAS ENTERED THE CHAT 😂
And let's be honest...
Given that it's Libra season, I probably won't get much work done until after my birthday anyway. 😂
There are celebrations to enjoy.
There are people to see.
There are plans to make.
And there is a whole new chapter waiting on me.
I'm allowed to celebrate the woman who survived everything she thought would break her.
I'm allowed to enjoy my birthday.
I'm allowed to receive my flowers.
And speaking of flowers...
GOD WHISPERED...
Somewhere in the middle of all this planning, rebuilding, letting go, and starting over...
God whispered in my ear:
"You deserve all your flowers."
And I didn't question it.
I didn't debate it.
I didn't ask for an explanation.
I simply received that word with one response:
AMEN.
Because maybe this chapter isn't about proving everybody wrong.
Maybe it's about finally proving to myself that everything I survived wasn't the end of my story.
It was preparation.
So yes...
I remember when.
I remember the stories.
I remember the glamorous nights.
I remember the kitchen doors.
I remember the people who came before me.
I remember the pain.
I remember the lessons.
I remember where I started.
But I'm not living there anymore.
I'm building my future in Las Vegas.
And this time...
I'M NOT HIDING IN THE KITCHEN.
I'm walking through the front door.
And I'm bringing my own table.
