There's something to be said about toxic people.
There's something else to be said about toxic people you're related to.
Did I ever think a broken A.C would lead to so much bullshit? No, but I should have known better. I should have known that when people look at you as if you're some sort of gnat that landed on their already bruised peach you're just another thing to look after, to blame. To kick when they're down.
No one in my family will ever read this. This would require them caring about my feelings. Now don't get me wrong, thanks to the way we are biologically made I am forced to love my family. I will even venture to say they are deep down, very good people.
They are not good for me.
I don't mean to whine...well no, actually, I do. Because fuck it, I need to get this out.
Due to some construction on the house, I got my A.C broken. Now, I had paid for this A.C myself, and it was a really nice one, with tax ran me about $300. I had been TOLD that my cousin was planning on buying me an new one. Told by my mother. So I figure, well, it sucks right now but I could use the cash right now more than the A.C. Maybe I can negotiate on my rent? (yes, I pay rent to my family) I actually just later on asked for $150 to maybe buy myself a dehumidifier that would help my room overall as well as the house.
I am somehow now a terrible human being.
My cousin is apparently still holding a grudge for me not buying his mom a B-day card (in my defense, I had gotten home from filming at 3 A.M and the last time I gave her a card she used the envelope of it to leave me a rent due notice). I get it, I should have gotten her a card. But to bring this up in a separate issue 3 WEEKS later, is ridiculous and petty. I could have looked past that. I told him if he was so offended I didn't want his money at all. He then threw in my face, about how many times he had paid for me when the family goes out.
...OK. I make less than a sixth of what he makes. But that is beside the point.
I have always, and always will, offer to put in something. I even do this on first dates. Because I LIKE to do it. It makes me feel good.
However, the point of generosity is to do it without wanting praise or recognition. That is the essence of a good deed.
I don't appreciate someone of better economic standing, rubbing in my face the gifts they've given me. I don't appreciate a family who stood idly by while this same man called me a cunt, and told me I would never amount to anything and no one would ever love me accusing me of extortion. I don't appreciate living in a place where I don't feel emotionally safe or even valued.
Too many people have toxic families and society forces them to feel guilty about cutting them out. It doesn't have to be as dramatic as being beaten. Some people are just not good to constantly be around, regardless of them being bad or good people. I love my family. I would die for them, truly. I have cried many nights because of nightmares of losing any of them.
I don't appreciate being called selfish, or uncaring.
Because seriously guys, I think you can all tell I care way too fucking much.
-Grace #Adulting
Showing posts with label nyc. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nyc. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 2, 2014
Fall is Fallen-ing
It has to be a mark of getting older when you start preferring seasons based on the drinks associated with them.
I'm an Oktoberfest kind of gal.
Very few things fill me with as visceral a reaction as the tastes and smells of fall do. Pumpkin, nutmeg (which I don't even really like) cinnamon, spice, dead leaves and chocolate and butterscotch. It fills me with hope. Winter is nothing I fear anymore, just the price you pay for the glorious 2 months of hoodie and pea coat weather.
Fall also means more coverage. Which, if you're a female, doesn't exactly solve the problem of being objectified or disrespected. I don't just speak for myself, but for all women who get hit on disgustingly even while wearing a bubble jacket. But I'm here to talk about a different kind of shaming today, which I myself am guilty of doing.
Positive shaming.
I'm talking about looking at someone who is perfect to us, and shame them for complaining about a body feauture. I've done it in regards to several celebrities,
Sometimes with friends. And it has happened to me as well as countless others.
We shame people for seeming perfect and as if they have everything since the beginning of time. We shame rich people for being unhappy, we shame people in relationships for feeling lonely. We shame military vets for questioning their choices. We shame we shame we shame.
Why? Who are we to judge what it feels like to wake up as them? Granted, some people take many things for granted but that is human nature. It is how it will always be. My mother has a saying "god gives bread to those who don't have teeth", because the hardest lesson to learn is the lesson of gratitude. It is usually accompanied by a lot of broken skin and hearts and pure pain. It takes loss to feel gratitude.
Fall reminds me of the time I used to have to get up earlier to keep a watch out for my sister's school bus. It reminds me of my first therapy session. It reminds me of the time I watched the lion king next to my sister's hospital bed and crying because I knew what Simba felt like. It reminds me of bullies and dread and it reminds me of eventual death.
But the hope outweighs it all.
-grace #adulting
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
I didn't know there was a bridge nearby!
Once in high school, I dated a complete asshole.
...OK, more than once, but this one took the cake.
I was 16 years old, and my sister had just passed away. As in, a few days had gone by and I was back at school feeling like this whole death thing was really anticlimactic and school still sucked. There had been a guy I noticed, very pretty in an exotic way, with brown shaggy hair, big green eyes and skin the color of gold.
He turned out to be a Brazilian-Jew, and a couple grades younger.
Normally, this would have turned me off. But I was grieving, desperate, and in dire need of someone to hold me. So we dated for a couple weeks. We even made it "Myspace Official" . (Wow, do I feel old and pathetic).
One afternoon, I noticed he had changed his status on Myspace to "single". Understandably confused, I called and messaged him on AIM (JESUS I'M OLD). No response. Finally, hours later he told me he "texted" me and that his mom said we couldn't date because I wasn't Jewish. I was flabbergasted, ashamed.
And mad as hell.
Another few days pass. We are now closer to a month away from my sister's passing. He sends me a message on AIM, asking for forgiveness and for me to check out this webpage he made. I acquiesced, because at 16 I was a fucking idiot. I clicked on the link, not knowing it was a bogus Myspace log-in page, in which he used to delete EVERYTHING and write:
"I'M A NAZI HORE". Over and over again.
Everything was gone. My poetry, my journal entries. Pictures of my sister that are now obsolete. I have never actually wanted to murder someone, but now I knew what that felt like. I could imagine his parents crying over his lifeless body and it made me feel GREAT. I decided to go to the school about this, since it was considered cyber bullying.
If you don't want to lose faith in Francis Lewis High School, read no further. Turn away now, or maybe transfer your kid to another school who actually gives a shit about its students.
Not only did they blame ME, for choosing to date him, all they did was call him in and "lecture" him on how wrong it is to bully people online. This piece of shit, who had openly told me he was looking into selling a fucking GUN at some point, got a slap on the wrist. I later found out it was on his birthday, so that made me feel better.
A year later, as I was graduating, I found out he got put in the hospital after being pistol whipped 10 or so times. Karma's a bitch, ladies and gentlemen.
Anyway, the twist comes last summer: Out of the blue, this kid (now an adult) messages me out of nowhere, saying he's now part of the Israeli Army and has been looking for me for a couple of years in order to apologize. And you wanna know his reasoning for doing what he did to me?
He didn't know how to break up with me.
I mean, the apology was more for his sake, because at this point I no longer cared. The only thing that upsets me to this day is how the school handled it, because that is why so many people kill themselves. They're told they have to deal with it, and that the people that hurt them will never be brought to justice for it because they're too fucking lazy. There will always be trolls, but we can change the way we deal with them.
After Robin William's passing, his daughter posted a very touching tribute to Social Media. She then received taunts about her father's self-induced death. Because you know, maybe they don't know how to break up with their girlfriends either.
It will never end. I had a guy in college claim he almost raped me on formspring. I've been told to kiss myself various times. I've lost track how many times I've been called a whore, stemming from before I even lost my virginity. (Not that that makes you more whore-ish, just showing how ridiculous it is)
If someone trolls you, don't engage, block. If someone sends you death threats, call the police. If anything, it will maybe be connected to something else they were notified of. No one likes a vigilante, but there's a special place in hell for those that watch atrocities happen without doing whatever small thing they can. That's how 6 millions Jews died.
Not on my watch.
-Grace #Adulting
...OK, more than once, but this one took the cake.
I was 16 years old, and my sister had just passed away. As in, a few days had gone by and I was back at school feeling like this whole death thing was really anticlimactic and school still sucked. There had been a guy I noticed, very pretty in an exotic way, with brown shaggy hair, big green eyes and skin the color of gold.
He turned out to be a Brazilian-Jew, and a couple grades younger.
Normally, this would have turned me off. But I was grieving, desperate, and in dire need of someone to hold me. So we dated for a couple weeks. We even made it "Myspace Official" . (Wow, do I feel old and pathetic).
One afternoon, I noticed he had changed his status on Myspace to "single". Understandably confused, I called and messaged him on AIM (JESUS I'M OLD). No response. Finally, hours later he told me he "texted" me and that his mom said we couldn't date because I wasn't Jewish. I was flabbergasted, ashamed.
And mad as hell.
Another few days pass. We are now closer to a month away from my sister's passing. He sends me a message on AIM, asking for forgiveness and for me to check out this webpage he made. I acquiesced, because at 16 I was a fucking idiot. I clicked on the link, not knowing it was a bogus Myspace log-in page, in which he used to delete EVERYTHING and write:
"I'M A NAZI HORE". Over and over again.
Everything was gone. My poetry, my journal entries. Pictures of my sister that are now obsolete. I have never actually wanted to murder someone, but now I knew what that felt like. I could imagine his parents crying over his lifeless body and it made me feel GREAT. I decided to go to the school about this, since it was considered cyber bullying.
If you don't want to lose faith in Francis Lewis High School, read no further. Turn away now, or maybe transfer your kid to another school who actually gives a shit about its students.
Not only did they blame ME, for choosing to date him, all they did was call him in and "lecture" him on how wrong it is to bully people online. This piece of shit, who had openly told me he was looking into selling a fucking GUN at some point, got a slap on the wrist. I later found out it was on his birthday, so that made me feel better.
A year later, as I was graduating, I found out he got put in the hospital after being pistol whipped 10 or so times. Karma's a bitch, ladies and gentlemen.
Anyway, the twist comes last summer: Out of the blue, this kid (now an adult) messages me out of nowhere, saying he's now part of the Israeli Army and has been looking for me for a couple of years in order to apologize. And you wanna know his reasoning for doing what he did to me?
He didn't know how to break up with me.
I mean, the apology was more for his sake, because at this point I no longer cared. The only thing that upsets me to this day is how the school handled it, because that is why so many people kill themselves. They're told they have to deal with it, and that the people that hurt them will never be brought to justice for it because they're too fucking lazy. There will always be trolls, but we can change the way we deal with them.
After Robin William's passing, his daughter posted a very touching tribute to Social Media. She then received taunts about her father's self-induced death. Because you know, maybe they don't know how to break up with their girlfriends either.
It will never end. I had a guy in college claim he almost raped me on formspring. I've been told to kiss myself various times. I've lost track how many times I've been called a whore, stemming from before I even lost my virginity. (Not that that makes you more whore-ish, just showing how ridiculous it is)
If someone trolls you, don't engage, block. If someone sends you death threats, call the police. If anything, it will maybe be connected to something else they were notified of. No one likes a vigilante, but there's a special place in hell for those that watch atrocities happen without doing whatever small thing they can. That's how 6 millions Jews died.
Not on my watch.
-Grace #Adulting
Friday, July 25, 2014
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
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
Monday, July 21, 2014
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
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
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
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
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
Monday, June 16, 2014
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.
Sunday, June 1, 2014
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
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
Thursday, May 29, 2014
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
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
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
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.
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.
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.
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