Monthly Archives: August 2019

Changing Views of Race in America

movie

So, when I was growing up, I used to be scared when the theater would fill up with too many black people. During the 2000’s, when rap movies were coming out all over the place, like Get Rich or Die Tryin, Hustle & Flow, Notorious, and then even when the should-be-inspirational black film Pride came out, the theaters in my hometown always had problems. Gang fights, shootings, stabbings – always at black movies. I’ve even been harassed for being gay by the black people in my hometown in a movie theater.  (for real, the mall in my hometown, where our largest theater is, had to instate an no hoods policy so security cameras can pick up everyones faces, and even banned anyone under 18 from being in the mall/theaters alone after 9pm without an adult present.
The violence got that bad.)

Because of that, anytime I started to see the theater fill up with mostly black people, I would get nervous. I didn’t want to deal a fight. I didn’t want to be harassed. I didn’t want trouble. I just wanted to see a movie.

However, the other week I saw the new 47 Meters Down, which… who doesn’t love a good shark movie?

47 meters down

 

The storyline was horrible, but who cares – it was sharks eating people.

Anyways… The point is this – So pretty much everyone in the audience but me and my friend was black. And yet, rather than being afraid, I actually felt safe. I was like, “Well, right now it’s white people who are shooting up movie theaters, so if it’s a theater of me and all black people, I feel like I’m going to be ok.”

And then I thought about how weird that is. That black people used to make me afraid, and now, white people make me afraid.

And then I thought about how fucked up and sad America is.

And then I thought about much I hate humans for murdering each other in general.

And then I got sad.

 

Anyways, just a little rambling from inside my mind. Make of it what you will, I’m just putting it out there,

 

~ The Dark Horse

 

 

 

 

I’m Off On Another Adventure

rhode island

So my next trip is Rhode Island, and I’m leaving… tomorrow. 

And I’m so insanely unprepared. I have never been to Rhode island, nor do I know what people do there. I hope it’s fun? I hope it won’t be lonely.

But, you know, this is the life. I’ve always wanted to be a real traveler. I’ve always wanted to get paid to travel – and now I have it. And yes, there can be times when you’re sent to seemingly random places and have no idea why – but that’s all part of the job.


I think I’m still missing home. This summer was rough. I didn’t know if my internship would turn into a job, and then I lost my apartment and had to move last minute. It was a lot. And all I wanted to do the entire summer was be to home. To be safe. 

And I feel I haven’t fully recovered from that yet. It feels like there’s part of me that wishes I could go back and re-do the entire summer. I’d do things differently….

rhode island 1

But I need to look on the bright side. I made it through. It was rough, but I have a job and I have an apartment. I survived it. Somehow. Someway. I did.

Well, Rhode Island…. I guess, here I come! 

The Hypocrisy of Liberals

hipster

So, as always, i feel I need to start this post by reminding everyone that I am not a Trump supporter and I will not vote him in 2020, nor do I support the alt-right. It’s sad that anytime you question someone these days, they assume you’re the enemy, or “the other side.”

However, I do need to do some liberal bashing right now. The topic today is drugs. 

Exhibit A: Liberals are all up in arms about the problems at the border, and are all about helping the disenfranchised.

Exhibit B: The illegal drug trade from in South and Central America, that trickles into Mexico and then the US is a huge problem that contributes to these issues.

Exhibit C: Liberals do drugs.

So, liberals… CAN YOU EXPLAIN YOURSELF TO ME PLEASE? 

hmm

And yes, I’m aware that “Pot should be legal” and I also understand that you “Just do MDMA sometimes at the club” or “A little cocaine at special occasions…

But here’s the thing. Pot isn’t legal for the most part yet, so buying it contributes to the drug trade. Don’t believe me? In 2017, a man was murdered in front of my house in Cambridge, MA over a pot deal gone wrong. It happens. Stop lying to yourself you selfish cunts who don’t deserve shit.

And sure, maybe you only do MDMA or coke sometimes…. but every other liberal like you also does it sometimes, and when you have a country of 300 million only doing drugs “sometimes” you wind up with a market that has a nonstop demand.

And especially to people of color – The rhetoric these days coming from people of color about the hardships faced by minority neighborhoods. The drugs, the poverty, the gangs, the poor education, the cops being against you – And yet, you’re participating in the illegal drug trade too! HOW ARE YOU NOT ASHAMED EVERY TIME YOU OPEN YOUR MOUTH TO JUDGE OTHER PEOPLE? 

moonlight

And what upsets me the most is that people who read this won’t care. In 2019, people (on both sides) are so full of themselves, so self-obsessed, so pious, so fucking delusional, that they’re not able to recognize their own flaws. They believe themselves to be the good guys, and anyone who questions them is OBVIOUSLY simply the bad guy…

 

So remember liberals, when you spark up your joint on Friday night, remember that tweet you sent out protesting the dispute at the border on Monday… and hopefully, you’ll recognize that you’re a total piece of shit hypocrite.

~ The Dark Horse

(No, this wasn’t proofread. This was written out of anger)

 

INFJ and the Feeling of a Calling

Passenger airplane with a boarding steps in the morning sun

So, the INFJ is often referred to as the “advocate” or “counselor.” We’re also known for having “callings” or “vocations” rather than just believing that one day we will get a job.

And I have to say, this is so true for me. And I’m wondering if this is true for any other INFJs out there?

If anyone has read this blog for a while, you probably know the story of my journey. I ran away to LA because I really wanted to make movies that would inspire people, that would change world, and that would help the underdog. Growing up, all I heard was “You’ll fail.” and “Do you know many people actually success in that industry? Get your head out of the clouds.” and “One day you’re going to have grow up and get a real job.”

But I never did. I never did grow up. I never did “grow out of it.” The concept of working a 9-5 job that I hated simply for a paycheck was just never enough for me. The thought of spending a life working at H&R Block or something, feeling unfulfilled every single day, left me feeling nauseous, depressed, anxious, and upset.

ice cream
Actual photo of my facial expression working in retail…

I then spent a bunch of years running around, trying to find myself, “trying to grow up” and be what everyone thought an adult should be, and it all went horribly! I wound up working in retail, hating my life every single day. Wishing I had a life with meaning, with purpose, and with excitement. I got working holiday visas to Australia and New Zealand. Hoping that, if I had to work boring jobs…at least I could do it in a foreign country. But of course, just when you think you’re safe….

park

 

My misery got so bad that I broke down and my years of depression and fear for the future exploded into an uncomfortable wave of anxiety and panic disorder that lead to me becoming agoraphobic while working in a foreign country. 

Long story short… It’s taken many, many, many years for me to ACTUALLY grow up, and do the most adult thing possible – Find myself. Know myself. And know what it is I’m meant to do in this world.

And that’s THE EXACT SAME THING I’VE WANTED TO DO SINCE I WAS A KID.

I want to tell stories. These days, the stories are a bit different from when I was a kid. After the years I spent collapsing from panic attacks, killing myself slowly with depression, and the period where I was even too afraid to leave my apartment… my stories obviously now tackle issues like mental illness.

And I’m not in film. I’m a writer now. But I love it. And I love being able to reach out to people. I love being able to inspire people. I love that my voice is being heard. I love everything about it!!!!!!!

So, I guess , here’s my thing – Yes. I’ve always felt like the advocate. And I’ve always felt like I’ve had a calling. And I was told for years that that was a sign of immaturity.

AND IM ASKING WHY?????  When someone wants the world (and to help the world) Why is that met with hatred? With disgust? With the idea of “Oh, that’s childish.”

And the other thing I’m asking is, do any of there INFJs out there feel this way? Does anyone else ever read the personality traits of INFJ and just be like… Holy Fuckballs That Is Me To The Core!

yasss

 

And I guess that finally, the other thing I’m saying is this: People suck. And I honesty (and unfortunately) believe that most people don’t live the lives they want. They settle because it’s easy. Because it’s less scary. Because it’s what those around them are telling them to do. So when they see someone who really goes for it – who grabs life by the horns – I think it makes them jealous, and angry, and probably even a bit insecure about their own life, which then makes them (and perhaps even subconsciously) try to put people down in order to not feel so bad about themselves.

So, what that longwinded paragraph is trying to say is –

IF YOU FEEL YOU HAVE A PASSION,

GO FOR IT!

world

 

The world is yours, take it and blow it up! (metaphorically of course)

 

~ The Dark Horse

(Was the proofread? I mean… I suppose you could say that)

I’m Living In Brooklyn Now!

brooklyn

So, this is a follow up to my last post, which chronicled the completely insane week of July 31 to August 7.

I’m happy to say, I survived. And I’m now living in Williamsburg, Brooklyn… and I don’t hate it. That’s right! I don’t miss the Upper West Side at all, because Brooklyn is

so.

damn.

cool.

Yep… totally happy. Wow, I love all these obnoxious cafes, and ugly fucking hipsters who have too much money and no jobs! HOW COULD I POSSIBLY HATE A FUCKING PLACE LIKE THIS? 

In Williamsburg, people are still wearing fedoras. MOTHERFUCKING FEDORAS! 

brooklyn1

This photo should tell you everything you need to know. I want to punch that girl in the face.

I went to Whole Foods yesterday and they have an oat milk vending machine…. Humans of planet earth… please, let me repeat :

OAT MILK VENDING MACHINE.

oat milk

If there actually was a God, he would obliterate this fucking hellhole into oblivion.

Right now, Im at a cafe and there is a guy next to me with glasses, pierced ears, shaved head in the back, spiky hair up front, in a gross tank top, with tattoos, wearing a fanny pack cross his shoulder, black jeans rolled up to his knees, with white tube socks, and Adidas sneakers that looks like they’re from the 80’s (AKA: He bought them for $100 from one of the many insanely expensive “thrift” shops in Williamsburg. He’s drinking an ice coffee that he ordered with, of course, oat milk.

Remember when hipsters loved soy milk? Then they hated it. And then it was almond milk, but that too wasn’t the miracle cure they had been hoping for. Then, there was that brief fad of “raw milk”. But now, it’s oat milk. Williamsburg smells of the greasy farts of too many hipsters who consume nothing but oats.

OH MY FUCKING GOD. I’m not making this up. Now a group of 3 hipsters just walked in to order and this was their conversation:

hipster 1: Yo, dude, we need to get a shot of you on the train. It will be, like, great for the vlog.

hipster 2: Man, this is going to be such a great collaboration. I’m so happy that we connected.

hipster 1: Yeah man, we’ll call the video something like, Freestyle in Manhattan, or like, Brooklyn, or whatever.

Hipster 3 remains silent. Probably knowing deep down how completely meaningless his life is.

hipster

But like I said, I’m not upset. It’s a great neighborhood. Everyone here is totally cool. Like, the coolest. They’re so trendy, self-obsessed, and glued to their social media that they’re honestly the best people in the world.

How could you not like this neighborhood?

My Life Went To Hell In 1 Short Week…

hell

So, let’s flashback to July 31st… Ah, I was so young, so naive. So innocent.

I thought I was about to move to an apartment on the Upper East Side. I was packing up my things because we had to vacate the apartment by midnight.

But then, at 3pm, my new roommate texted me to say that he decided to go with someone else…

CAN YOU FUCKING BELIEVE THAT?

And I was losing my apartment 9 hours later…..

AND THEN I WENT INTO MELTDOWN MODE.

rampage

***Actual Footage of Inside My Soul on July 31, 2019***

 

I was scrambling.  I was desperately messaging apartments and texting everyone and anyone I knew saying I needed a couch to sleep on.

The hours went by and no responses came.

It was now 11pm. I went into critical meltdown mode. I had to realize that it was possible I might have to hop in a cab and head to the airport. I had to accept that this could be the end of my time in New York.  The thought of a hotel for a night crossed my mind… then I saw the prices for last-minute hotels in NYC during the summer months, and I quickly discovered that wasn’t an option.

I had to get serious.  I said, “What can I carry on a plane home, and what can’t I.”

My lamp. My desk. Had to go

My pillows, sheets, blankets. Had to go. 

All my books. Magazines. Notebooks. Had to go. 

Clothes I hadn’t worn in a while. Had to go. 

les mis

I was near tears, throwing my entire life onto the curb of 82nd street.

THEN, FINALLY AT 5 MINUTES BEFORE MIDNIGHT, a guy I had slept with a few times messaged me. “Sure, come over.”

I couldn’t believe it. I was still in the game. But, I needed to pack light. This random guy was already doing me a favor, I couldn’t bring my entire life over to his place. I needed to accept that all the stuff on the curb was gone. Out of my life.

 

I stayed with him for 2 days. I worked during the day, and visited apartments at night. And oh man, once I lowered my standards…. the places I found…..

There was the Indian guy in East Harlem who wanted me to share a twin-size bed with him. There was an apartment of Korean guys who had walled off a section of of their living room with plywood to create a “flex bedroom” (AKA: A small, windowless box made of plywood) and they wanted $1,300 a month (not including utilities) for it. And there was another place on the Upper East Side I found on Craigslist. It was a super tiny room in a 4-bedroom apartment for $1k a month. I thought, ONLY 1k A MONTH??? I’d living in a closet on the Upper East Side for that!

amy sedaris

The broker wanted first, last, security, and a 1k broker fee.

I asked, “You want a broker fee for an apartment I found on Craigslist?”

…He stopped responding to my texts.

Then, the guy I was staying with goes, “So…my boyfriend is staying over for the next few days, and he gets really jealous so you have to go.”

I texted my friend and didn’t even ask to stay with him. I simply said, “I’m coming over.”

I got to his place and fell asleep on his couch, I was so dead. The next morning  I woke up to visit an apartment in Williamsburg, AND BAM! That was it. The neighborhood was great, my roommate was fuckin hot, and super nice, and we clicked instantly, and then he said, “But, I just moved in and need to set up the apartment, so move-in isn’t until August 10. I couldn’t pass it up though. So I instantly gave him the deposit.

I get back to my friend’s and he goes, “Look, I have to go out of town for a birthday, and I don’t really feel comfortable with you being here when I’m not.. so, you have to leave.”

I went on Orbitz, booked a flight home for that night and called my mom from the taxi to JFK.

“Hi Honey! What’s going on?”

“Hi mom. My flight is going to land at about 9:20pm, I need you to be at the airport to pick me up.”

(silence.) 

“Tonight?”

“Yes.”

“You’re coming home tonight?”

“Yes.”

(squeal!) “Oh ok!!! We’ll be there! I can’t wait to see you! Do you need me to pick up anyt….”

(Click.) 

I didn’t have time to speak to her. I had to call work to arrange being gone for a week.

airport

So, after a plane ride, and a ride home from the airport. I hopped in bed, safe in my childhood bedroom.  Little did I realize that I had been running around so much the past few days that I hadn’t been eating or drinking.

The next morning at 9 a.m. I shoot out of bed. I had a massive Charlie horse in my right calf. I jumped up, and instantly get woozy and light-headed and collapse. My parents are both at work already. I try to stand up again, and I get woozy again, and collapse. I try a third time, and start losing my vision when I stand up. I collapse again.

I decide that maybe I need food and water. I try to walk downstairs to the kitchen and again, I can feel my vision blurring and my head getting all wobbly. I collapse. Then, with no other option, I call 911 and literally have to say the lines, “Help, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.”  I’M NOT EVEN 30 YEARS OLD! 

 

Long story short. They come and tell me I seem dehydrated, but my blood pressure and sugars seem fine. I go to the doctor just to be safe. I get bloodwork done and a cardiac test. Everything comes back fine. It was just exhaustion and dehydration.

So, that’s how, all within less than 7 days, I lost my apartment, stayed on 2 people’s couches, had to fly home, and even call 911…

But. I’m not giving up. I’m still in this. I head to back to New York tomorrow. I won’t give up. New York won’t win. I let Australia take me down and I’ve never forgiven myself. New York City and all you cuntfuck New Yorkers who live there… you’ve made a powerful enemy. game on.

 

~ The Dark Horse

(this post was way too long to proofread.  Sowwyz!)