How I Managed To Get in Touch With My Inner-Ghetto

5 Jun

For the most part, I can pretty much say I’m not..ghetto. Ghetto as in from it, speak it nor live it. But there are times in my life when I can manage to get in touch with my inner ghetto, because let’s face it.. everyone can get ghetto. Admit it, you know when that someone was trying to cut you in line today at the checkout in a clothing store, your voice got loud when normally it’s at a low, calm monotone pitch. Yep, ghetto.

I think it’s pretty naturally to get “ghetto,” when need be or when very necessary but of course to remain respectful. I get in touch with my ghetto on an every day basis, as a matter of fact. It’s not always that when you say “ghetto,” you necessary are talking about baggy pants, living in the projects or listening to urban music. I actually think of getting in touch with my inner-ghetto as many other things. For instance, a friend a long time ago was comparing our levels of ghetto. She lived in a co-op with her Mom & brother in Yonkers and I in Brooklyn with my mom. She asked me where I kept my cereal. I told her on top of the refrigerator, like everyone does. Apparently not, because she informed me that if I didn’t have a pantry to keep it in..that was ghetto.

Wether it’s keeping my boxes of cereal on top of the refrigerator, or doing my hair in the kitchen because I don’t have enough outlets in my room OR because they’ll all blow out my blow-dryer. Either one, doesn’t matter. Nonetheless, I happen to enjoy my minor ghetto moments that I think I’m not the only one who shares them. Ghetto or not, I’m still me no matter where I’m from. I just have my moments, but then again…we all do.


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