To be or not to Hepatitis B?

You may have a medical degree, but this doesn't mean you're not an idiot.  Case in point: My weekend.

So I got a physical done for the first time in who knows how long, and of course this includes blood work.  I should have known I wasn't dealing the highest caliber of medical professionals when it took them 3 tries to find a vein, and they had to use the one in my hand and the assistant says "Well let's hope it doesn't burst" to the OTHER assistant while I AM RIGHT THERE. SITTING WITH A NEEDLE POKING OUT OF ME. TRYING NOT TO HYPERVENTILATE. I AM NOT A ROBOT.

This was last week, so this weekend I am dog sitting and I suddenly get a call "The doctor needs you to come in to discuss your blood work results". Um, what? So of course, my inner hypochondriac starts to imagine all the worst things, from cancer to Super Aids.  So I go in, and right away they hand my my lab results on a paper that has a whole lot of red on it.  I ask if I'll get to talk to someone, and am told to wait for the doctor.  2 and a half hours later I am no closer to seeing the doctor, so I leave with a test that states I am positive for Hepatitis A and B to race back to a dog that might poop itself if it waits any longer.

Fast forward to Saturday morning, after waking up at the ass crack of dawn to be the first person there, the assistant speaks to me and tells me I have Hepatitis B.  Understandably, I start to hyperventilate and inquire about the future of my liver and the possibility of cancer.  Also, I'm confused, because I don't use dirty needles or have sex with homeless people. This is what he said, VERBATIM.

"Well, since you're asymptomatic there's no need to concern yourself with liver disease just yet.  While half of liver cancer patients have Hep B, that doesn't necessarily mean Hep B causes liver cancer.  It's just that most people with liver cancer have Hep B."

Why, thank you physician's assistant. YOU MADE ME FEEL TEN TIMES WORSE ABOUT MY LIFE, FUCK YOU, I FEEL BAD FOR THE GIRL YOU DATE YOU PROBABLY SUCK AT TALKING TO HER TOO.

An hour later, I finally get to talk to the ACTUAL doctor.  Who says I don't have Hep B, I just have antibodies from the vaccine.  I do have a hyperactive thyroid which would explain why I'm neurotic as fuck, though.  I'd like to think that if this get's fixed, most of my problems will be gone.  I know that's not the case though, because my brain is also broken. But not my spirit!

Ok maybe it is a little broken.  It's hard to feel hopeful when even going to the doctor is so difficult.  I'm trying to be healthy, trying to make positive changes and then I just flip out. It makes NO sense.  And I worry it will ruin everything.

So here's pictures of the doggie I took care of, because fuck doctors.

-Grace #Adulting

Training Wheels and Blankets

Today, I made up my mind.  My professional goal is to be a community/social media manager.

How the fuck do I become one of those? The girls at my current job are such micro-managing control freaks it's not like I'll ever get to touch their social media sites. Seriously, if I wanted to be micro-managed this much I'd just stay home and hang out with my family.

I figured out exactly what pot feels like to me; it's sort of like wearing a fuzzy blanket while holding a laser pointer.  You get to peek out from under the blanket and focus on one thing at a time, the thing that seems most important.  My boyfriend says I'm much more logical when I'm high, since I operate on a zero-mental break down mode the rest of the time.  There are these moments where I feel I'm getting insecure and then I realize that I would look much stupider admitting I do and would it would be more beneficial to shrug it off. Is that almost like confidence?

So anyway, laser point thoughts; I feel like I've been riding on a bike with training wheels my whole life.  I'm biking alone, but there's no real danger yet, just the danger of comfort.  Now if only I could learn how to get those fucking wheels off and ride off into my fat bank account sunset, that would be just swell.

Open to suggestions.

-Grace #Adulting 

Defensiveness and the case of the Mondays

Today as of now, has been a very tough day. I wish I had a real excuse as to why, but I don't. Even if I did, it would just sound whiny and I know no one actually wants to read whiny self pitying Grace.

What do you do when all the thoughts in your head are so garbled and coated with moroseness swirled with a dash of chaos, that whenever you try to voice a thought or process an honest remark all you can do is spew out bile and want to hide in yourself until no one can ever find you again?  How does anyone communicate effectively, please, all you actual adults that don't suck at the most basic of human functions, PLEASE tell me how you do it.

Because as of right now, I just want to not exist, and I have neither a flask, blunt, or a dog to comfort myself with and the boss is in the office so I can't look at animal videos. One of the most frustrating things about adult life is how lonely it is. I have great friends and a great boyfriend, but I don't feel like I can talk to anyone because I barely understand myself.

Also, slowly but surely, I am starting to hate my job.  I actually got reprimanded for not putting a space between two words in an email solely meant to provide a coworker with a phone number, and she CC'd my BOSS on it. It may seem small, but little things like that show me how petty someone is.

Fuck bitches, make money.

-Grace #Adulting

Of Guilt And The Zoo

I was raised catholic (I had a Freudian slip and wrote raided, fancy that?) so I have a lot of guilt naturally instilled in me.  On top of that pile of 100 bibles is the fact I'm a woman, and so every urge I have to act like a person and not a subservient mammal is looked down upon by 3/4 of the world.  My own family and I have butted heads over my philosophies and they attribute it to my "Americanism", but I know it's something deeper.

I probably shouldn't write about this, not here. But I don't actually think that many people read this so I'm going to go ahead.

The last time I remember feeling very ashamed and guilty wasn't when I was raped, or yelled at, or groped; it was a night with a heavy blizzard in college. I somehow became trapped at the dorms and received a very stern lecture from my friends on how I dressed. It was slutty, no one took me seriously. This is why guys used me.

To be honest, they may not have said these things as bluntly, but that's all I heard and all I hear.  I remember going home the next morning and wanting to cover myself in pitch and feathers so no one would be able to see I was even a female.  I didn't spend much time with my friends over the next few months, I don't know if they ever attributed it to that night, or if they noticed.  I don't think they knew how much they hurt me, but we all moved on from it.  I forgave them, because people you love will always hurt you.

Unfortunately, the shame permeates my shield still sometimes, and in moments of vulnerability and PMS, it is hard to beat down.

And I'm going to the zoo tomorrow. I'm really excited, I feel guilty I'm so excited, because zoos aren't great for animals at all.  Based on principle, I shouldn't go.  But I want to see the animals. I want to ride a camel.

I wonder if this is how people in religious households debate masturbation.

-Grace #Adulting

Of Farts And Birds

So my boyfriend is a pain in the ass, and thinks I need to post something every fucking hour.

I mean I have a job, that I do stuff at. Like, grown up stuff. A lot.

Ok, maybe I don't do much at work, but still. It's the principle of the matter.

So while commuting to work today I got bitch slapped by a bird. I was just walking to the train, jamming out to some Miley when all of a sudden I feel a FWAP against my skull.  I stop, very perplexed...and then it happens again and I see this fucking asshole bird fly up and start following me along the fence.  After checking myself for birdshit on my nice shirt, I ran away. NYC birds are assholes.

Anyway, this got me thinking about the idea of aggression vs. assertiveness. Also about my feelings for NYC, and how as I get older I get the urge to branch out a bit.  I am not overly assertive. At all. I've been likened to a doormat.  I may look all tough with my boxing gloves and F-bombs, but at heart I'm a softie and I just want to be everyone's friend.  But in this city it's all a rat race; you can't get anywhere without throwing some elbows, and quite honestly I don't know the first thing about tapping into that side of myself. It was there a long time ago, but its been squashed for so long I don't even know if it can be revived.

I love NYC, I love the hustle and bustle, the energy, the convenience, the abundance and the variety of options it has. I'm very fortunate to inherit my residence here, my parents sacrificed everything to come here 32 years ago. But lately, I've been feeling the depression that comes from not making enough to move out, the lack of breathing room, the constantly being pushed aside simply because someone else has bigger elbows.  I want green and ocean and a lifestyle that I don't have to haul ass in order to even stay afloat.

But then, today I'm taking the elevator back up to work and a very professional looking man lets out a wet fart, and says "ooh!" and I'm reminded of the very heart of NYC: a sick, assholish sense of humor.

And I laughed.

-Grace #Adulting

For The Love Of Dogs

I love dogs.  I spend at least three hours a day (most likely more) reading about them, looking at them on the internet, and thinking about them.  To many, this seems like obsession. My boyfriend teases me for shutting down when I see a cute dog on the street. Everyone asks why I don't have one.

Well, as much as I would love one right now, the truth is I'm not obsessed.  An obsessed person would not realize they can't provide a life that is worthy of a dog at the moment.  I'm here to make a case that everyone should be "obsessed" with dogs, and here's why:

The only reason dogs are the way they are today, is because of us.  They came to us when we were primitive beings and helped us scour for food; they have helped the Greeks and Romans soldiers in battle just as they do today. Every single trait in dogs has been manifested by humans; if they are aggressive, it is our fault, not theirs; if they are loving it is because we have taught them to be loving.

Dogs are the tailored animal; reared and selected and even genetically modified to our will, sometimes to their detriment.  But they don't know that, all they know of is love.

If you want to know what it is like to live a happy life, live like a dog. A dog goes from moment to moment, taking pleasure in all the little nuances and happenstances that they come across. When a dog is happy their joy is unadulterated; they do not care if they laugh too loud or love too much, whereas human beings hang on to their "I love you's" and words of comfort and hoard them like gold, not realizing love only grows when it is shared.  We guard our happiness because we fear others will scorn it; and it shows in the dogs we rear when they guard their toys.

Dogs have seen me through many difficult moments, and not all have liked me.  I try not to take it too personally, but dogs have their own unique personalities like we do, and not everyone likes me.  Dogs have never judged me for crying, or for being angry, or for being scared.  From the tiniest of puppies that have chewed my clothing to bits to the sickest and the elderly ones that I have had to say goodbye to, they have all just been. They let me, be.

So see a Dog as more than just a pet, more than an animal that depends on food and shelter from you. We tamed dogs, and as Antoine de Saint-Exupéry said in "The Little Prince", you are responsible for the things you tame.  If you have the honor and privilege of seeing your dog out of life, do it.  We live in a society where we hide the elderly away because it's much easier than to have to think and care about them.  We turn our faces away from the homeless, the sick and the disabled.

Turn back around, face them.  You will feel much braver with a dog by your side.

WHOAH Nelly, finally can breathe

WHOAH. Sorry I disappeared, bad Grace bad. Spanky Spanky.

So....lots of crap happened, that was actually grown up stuffs!

I played a skanky fairy in "A Midsummer Night's Dream", and then I played a hooker in a web skit (obviously I'm type cast) and I got to say the N-Word but I felt really guilty but also a little thrilled since it's a bad bad word.

But now, here are two BIG things that happened and made me feel like maybe all my stumbling around was finally going in some direction;

1. I wrote a song for my boyfriend's short film that starred Rebecca Spence and Red West.  Red West, for those who don't know, has a legendary career that involved co-writing some songs with Elvis. They sang my song. They sang MY song. THEY SANG MY SONG. And LIKED it. Holy bajeesus cowtesticles.

2. I'M GONNA BE IN A MOVIE MOTHERFLUFFERNUTTERS! My first ever full feature role, and it's a Vampire Princess that slays zombies. Basically my dream role.   I start filming next week, so basically, I'm going to be exhausted for a few months.

So yeah, I'm getting a bit better at adulting. There's still a long way to go, but here's to finally going.