Entropy > Love

Today, I will not talk about me. Much.

Is your mind exploding yet?

*Disclaimer on slightly incorrect info, I haven't gone over biology in a while.

Anyhoo, I'm here to talk about the concept of endings. About what really constitutes an "end". How to know you've reached an ending, and sometimes, it isn't so terrible.

The universe has something called entropy, which in simple terms means the measure of disorder. In simpler terms, it actually describes the way the universe tends to fall into the disorder. In thermodynamics, the greater the entropy = the greater the energy from the change. When there is no entropy, that means there is no energy. No change. No life.

I once read on Human's Of New York's blog how a woman's theory to staying young was constantly staying in a state of change. Maybe this is why things deteriorate and die. Because they stop changing. But, as the law of entropy goes if one thing doesn't change the energy of something else we do will be applied and produce more entropy. So really, where it is we apply this change and how we use this energy is where we see what happens to end up dying or ending.

What if in trying to change one's self so much they didn't have any energy left over to apply it to someone else? What if one person refused to use any energy to change an aspect of their self that instead that energy spilled out in terms of blame and rage? What if love is not enough?

Love is not enough. The law of entropy always wins.

-Grace #Adulting

Of Nemo and Toilets

There are two types of people in this world: People who see the futility behind toilet seat covers and those who refuse to see the truth.

There are also other types of people: People who assume a server doesn't mind waiting while they read the menu, and those who realize this is a dick thing to do.

Last night, in what was supposed to be a FUN dinner, I contemplated smashing everyone I'm related to in the face with a hammer. I would never do this, but I admit imagining it felt good.

First implication of the evening being a stressful one, I ask my family if they want to eat at Bareburger since they keep wanting "organic" food. They inform me they didn't like that place. We end up at Bareburger, because this is the place they were talking about all along. But of course, I can't be right.

Next, I ask my mother what she wants: A turkey Burger.
Okay, I say. What on it?

Turkey Burger.

...It's like dealing with a five year old. She always does this, she'll just tell the server after assuring us she's thought about what she wants despite barely reading the menu that she wants "Chicken". This means the poor server has to wait and speak with her another 5-10 minutes as she makes up her mind and actually reads the menu, while I look for a rock to crawl under.

While ordering a pretty specific and large amount of food, I am constantly being interrupted and the server is being accused of being wrong and reminded of things she has already noted. I am an actor (sort of), I know server speak you assholes.

I am informed I ordered a bad beer, and that it isn't cold enough.  Granted, tap beer is warmer.  However, this is the same exact beer my cousin ordered for them last time we went and they all said they liked. Amazing how that works.

Finally, there's an issue with the check because the server either miscounted our cash or my Aunt did, because my card is overcharged. While I am speaking with the server on how I will take care of MY MONEY, and making sure I give her all my CORRECT INFORMATION, my family is pestering me to explain whatever I'm doing. In spanish. While the server is still there.

When I inform them that she has other tables and I don't like speaking of personal matters in front of wait staff, I am accused of putting others above my family members.

I snapped. I told them that "You have no clue what it's like to be a server. Stop being so self centered, and let me worry about my fucking money".  I'm now a monster.

I really hate this idea of family obligation that I find is extremely prevalent in Hispanic and Latin culture.  We are born needing and "loving" our mothers because we have to in order to survive. At least, we used to.  Our parents also feel the natural urge to shelter and care for us because it helps the survival of the species.  This is terrible in some cases because, honestly, most people I know shouldn't be parents. I mean please, please, please next time use a condom.

It's ridiculous to me that I have to feel manipulated and made to feel irrational guilt by a group of people who claim they do it out of love, even if with the best of intentions.  I am nearing 25 (google calendar reminded me of my own birthday) and I'm ready to choose my own family. Whether that means a husband or maybe just dogs the rest of my life, that is my choice.  I owe you nothing. You  are EXPECTED to take care of a child. If you don't, then you are a horrible human being that goes to jail. It is in the nature of having children; you don't get thanked. If you're looking for appreciation, you've chosen the wrong life path.  After they can fend for themselves, your job is done.

If you try and hold them too close and too long, those little baby bird wings get mangled, and then they end up like me.  The Nemo of the bird world, trying to fly away with only one wing.

-Grace #Adulting

Hangxiety And Considerate Drug Addicts

Sometimes, when I'm really anxious or really depressed I won't eat because then I can just focus on feeling hungry instead.  I tried to do this exact same thing this morning, but instead I ate some apricots. Because apricots are awesome.

I'm still hungry, and still anxious, but now they are both an even feeling so I am naming it: Hangxiety. I will stop talking about this, because A) I have realized that telling people too much never ends well, and B) It makes me sound really crazy.

So here I am, sitting here and feeling hangxious. And apathetic, because I have had a combined total of 18 hours of sleep since Friday because of filming the movie I'm in, Vermilion. I had to take the train at 4 a.m on Saturday to get to Philly on time, so here is an account of my train ride from the Bronx to Penn Station.

4 A.M, car 1: Pretty quiet, there's a homeless dude but he's not the super smelly kind and so maybe he's sane enough to be a witness in case anyone stabs me. Speckled with a few other people, including two sleepy young men.

4:10 A.M, car 1: After falling asleep for a few minutes, I hear a commotion and the sound of something somewhere between a liquid and a solid spilling.  Turns out, the sleepy young men were not really sleepy, just shitfaced. And now puking. Glad he was sitting up.  But really dude, where are you partying this hard in the Bronx?

4:13 A.M, car 2: I'm exhausted, upset, and generally miserable. I get stuck on a car with a bunch of loud, screaming, idiotic men that are yelling in very strident voices, probably about how they are general burdens on society and probably were born because their mom's couldn't afford birth control. Guy next to me is very very red.

4:16 A.M, car 2: Guy next to me is even redder. He's started saying some non-sensical things. I look to the two cars surrounding me and it's either puke car or the one that I'm pretty sure I just saw a homeless man pee into. I'm stuck.

4:22 A.M, car 2: Guy next to me is probably on Meth. He's started yelling at the air and at me, but assuring me he'll be fine once he reaches his stop. That's considerate I guess.

4:30 A.M, car ...well,train 2: I switch to the express train to escape them all, only to be followed by the gang of parakeets.  I am too tired to even be angry, and I resign to a miserable existence for this morning, and hope they all die a very early and painful death. Preferably by alcohol poisoning.

Once at Penn, I met up with another cast member. He's strapped for cash due to some bad circumstances and so I buy his ticket. I feel like a terrible person, because instead of feeling like I really helped someone I feel taken advantage of. How terrible of a person must I be, in order to feel like I'm being duped when I help someone out?

I kind of don't want to live on this planet anymore. I think I'd do better on a different one.

-Grace #Adulting

On Fucking All The Self Righteous Pricks

There are very few instances where I wish I was crazy enough to just set someplace on fire.  But unfortunately, I have this thing called morality and a general fear of being someone's bitch in prison.

I work a very boring job as a personal assistant at a travel agency. I took it to escape another boring job at a real estate agency.  At least my employees weren't fucking assholes there (although, pretty sure one of the boss' there tried to ask me out on a date. Awkward.).  Case in point:

1. They rarely involve me in conversation, barely even saying hi. Ironically, the one who comes off the friendliest is the most dangerous to trust.

2. They are petty. They will CC my boss on correcting my spelling mistakes on emails that hold no importance.

3.SOMEONE or some SOMEONES has been reporting me coming in late. And fuck them, because I have very little do anyway and spend most of the time reading random articles on the interwebs. And I do EVERYTHING they ask, so what the FUCK do they care?

4. I technically don't even take money away from the business. I'm paid through my boss' husband's company I guess to save on workers comp or something.

5.  Instead of throwing out/recycling things themselves, they'll actually put it on my desk and wait for me to come into the office before it gets taken care of. The recycling bin is right next to the bathroom. Oh, the poor things might break a nail.

6.FUCK THEM ALL IN THE EYEBALLS WITH A SANDPAPER CONDOM

I'm also slightly disgusted by them because it is obvious to me that none of them have ever gone through any economic hardship, either through watching their parents struggle or struggled themselves.  I've been pretty lucky, but I always finish my plate; I know the value behind putting food on the table.  One of the reasons I don't have a driver's license is because my parents told me they couldn't yet afford a tombstone for my sister and I though "Meh, driver's ed isn't THAT important".

Anyway, I'm cranky and saddened by the fact that I am not only working with a bunch of jerks, but I actually felt like I owed them something. My boss sat me down a couple months ago and expressed that she was afraid I would just leave as the summer came after she invested so much money and time in me. That I should invest in her and she'll invest in me.

A part time job that is leading me no where is not "investing" in me, you stupid twat.  I admire my boss for her business skills and organization and general savvy, but this means she's a master manipulator as well. I just happen to be nice enough to be steered.

Well fuck them, as soon as I find something better, I'm out.

*Drops Mic*

-Grace #Adulting

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 

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.

A true test of character

Once upon a time, there lived an evil sorcerer called "The MTA".  Every other weekend, he would commit heinous fuckery and toy with the mostly good samaritans (not counting tourists) of New York City.  It would wield its evil magic through the guise of "construction" and "train traffic", and cause much mayhem and tragical tragedy.  This is where our hero, Grace, found herself today; caught between the war of the blue and red line; her Burts Bees war paint shining in the fluorescent lighting.

She had just had a spicy brined margarita, so she was well prepared and determined to see this journey through. With pointy little elbows and tiny sausage legs, she forced her way through the crowd of questionable youths and surprisingly aggressive old ladies to finally make her way on the C train, and soon she was awaiting the A. For twenty minutes. In heels.  (Though she be but little, she is fierce.)

After the the battle of the A train, she rushed towards the pits of the shuttle bus of the one, casualties of war gathering before her because they were too busy staring at their phones.  She gallantly galloped to the bus and exclaimed "I'm getting on motherfuckers!" and "Pardon me".  She had to stand in those painful things they called shoes, but she was standing strong.

She is currently on a very big Mac, drinking some wine and resting her weary feet.  She reflected on her battle this afternoon, and took away this;

Sometimes, there will be things you can not control and it will have the power to ruin your day just by the sheer annoyance it causes you, and the frustration of being so powerless.  But all you can do is throw your elbows, dive into the fray, and imagine the holy grail that is a glass of red wine awaiting you.

Life is going to fuck you in the ass sometimes, and it doesn't care if you have a hemorrhoid.  All you can do is relax and provide the appropriate aftercare.

-Grace, #Adulting

Is it hormones, or do I just suck?

How do you know what you're good at? Or what you could be good at? I mean, I know for sure I'm a decent singer, and that I can walk 5 dogs at once. And I'm pretty good in bed. Alas, I will not be taking part in the world's oldest profession, so that's out. 

This whole week I've made several stupid mistakes in terms of my job. It's not a hard job. It's downright boring at times. My coworkers go out of their way to make sure I don't do anything too difficult. I'm basically paid to act like a functioning adult on my boss' behalf. 

I also want to cry all the time. So, it might also be hormones. Like, a homeless person just came on the train and now I feel really bad for her even though she is obviously crazier than a bag of chocolate covered xanies and has commandeered 4 seats with her stuff. But she doesn't smell that bad, and she has some dried flowers in a cup in her shopping cart. 

And now I'm tearing up. 

Excuse me. 

How did I get coffee in my eyebrows?

Sometimes, bodily functions have really bad timing. Like all those times I fart myself awake while sleeping next to my boyfriend. Or this morning, when I sneezed into my coffee.

But go me, because I didn't get any on my boyfriend's nice couch. But I did get it all over me. Ah well.

I have a unique history of spilling things on me at the most inopportune moments. One time in college, I was hardcore (aka last minute) studying for a Biology final, and my method of studying was to basically rewrite the text book by hand. It sort of worked, since I did get a B+ in that class as the only non-science major. So anyway, I'm studying and it's almost 1 a.m and I'm tired. I need caffeine. Unfortunately, every place on campus that sells coffee is closed (during finals week, REALLY Adelphi?!?) and the only thing at my disposal is green tea that has been very kindly offered by my friend Kate.

So I make the tea. My friend Mike who is helping me study pours it into the cup. I go to pick UP the cup...

and my hand cramps so badly it collapses and I spill boiling hot tea all over my hand.

Needless to say, my writing abilities were severely hindered for the rest of the night. I did the ole hispanic remedy of toothpaste on a first degree burn, so luckily I could write in time for the final. Actually, come to think of it, we hispanics use toothpaste for a lot of things.

Well, at least we smell fresh.

-Grace #adulting

In Honor Of Maya Angelou

World class woman. Icon. Fierce bitch. Prolific.

These don't even come close to encapsulating what Maya Angelou was.

She is also the prime example that sometimes you don't truly start your true career path until later in life, she not truly dedicating herself to her writing and human rights work until she was about 30.

 She also worked as a stripper. I worked as the door girl to a strip club once, so...we have that in common. She was someone that showed me it was OK to be a sexual being and that it didn't mean you had so self worth.

So thanks Maya Angelou. You give me hope that all my #adulting will lead somewhere.

-Grace

How do I adult?

First, Laurel totally made up this term. Full credit goes to her, I'm just piggybacking.

I'm Grace, 24 year old woman-child trying to figure out how the fuck do I adult in NYC. Just struggling under the burden of this quarter life crisis and trying to pretend I have applicable life skills.

What is adulting? Adulting is celebrating the most basic level of human functionality that slightly separates you from a toddler. But sometimes, when I'm drunk, there really is no difference.

Like, when I had cereal and greek yogurt for breakfast BEFORE having the Reese's PB cups.

Or when I realized I could vacuum my windows instead of cleaning them by hand. And my A/C.

Or that time I got an acting degree and now 3 years later I'm playing a skanky fairy and working in an office.

#Adulting, one bullshit day-job at a time.
First, Laurel totally made up this term. Full credit goes to her, I'm just piggybacking.

I'm Grace, 24 year old woman-child trying to figure out how the fuck do I adult in NYC.

What is adulting? Adulting is celebrating the most basic level of human functionality that slightly separates you from a toddler.

Like, when I had cereal and greek yogurt for breakfast BEFORE having the Reese's PB cups.

Or when I realized i could vacuum my windows instead of cleaning them by hand. And my A/C.

Or that time I got an acting degree and now 3 years later I'm playing a skanky fairy and working in an office.

#Adulting, one bullshit day-job at a time.