Tag Archives: growing up

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?

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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!)

 

 

 

 

 

I Hate Endings

folks

So, I move out of my Upper West Side apartment tomorrow, and it’s killing me.

Yes, I hated my roommates, and I can’t believe I somehow accidentally ended up living with a Trump supporter… I hope he chokes on a Freedom Fry in his new apartment in New Jersey… actually, now he lives in New Jersey, so he’s basically already dead.

BUT STILL, despite how much I hated my roommates, I still feel like I’m losing something. I’m losing my neighborhood. My cafes I’ve come to love where the baristas know me by name. I love walking in and having someone scream out, “What article are you writing today?!?”

I’m going to miss my corner Bodega. Shoutout to the West 82nd Grocery! I’m even going to miss my gym, where the equipment was old and crappy, and there was no AC, and old gay men would jack off in the sauna. Classic Manhattan, I say! And again, despite the fact that I hate old gay men jerking off in public, something about losing that makes me sad. It’s like, who, besides the people in my neighborhood who also gym there, would ever believe that the basement of our gym is a 24/7 jerkfest? NOBODY! 

And that’s community.

OH MY GOD. AM I GETTING OLD?

AM I STARTING TO LIKE THE IDEA OF…. SETTING DOWN ROOTS?

Sweet Jesus Kill Me.

old

old1

 

But then again, I suppose 30 is right around the corner. Perhaps I should embrace the failing kidneys, trick hips, and arthritic knees,

Oh, god, all before I’m even 40 I’m sure…

Or perhaps I need to think of it this way – I’ve only been in NYC for 5 months. I’m still just a newborn New York baby.  Maybe having to move to the Upper East Side isn’t an ending…maybe it’s just a beginning?

Maybe this first apartment was my “starter” apartment. Maybe I’ll actually like the Upper East Side? (cringes…) I mean, maybe, right? Maybe I’ll learn to love my new roommate and make a new best friend?

POINT IS – maybe this isn’t the end. Maybe this is the start. The start of a new adventure. The true beginning to my life in New York!

 

Let’s hope for the best?

~ The Dark Horse

(#NotProofRead, #DealWithIt)

Embracing The Evil Within

joker

So, I have a confession for everyone, and, judge me if you must... But, during hard times, one of the things that really helps me get by is embracing my inner super villain.

That’s right. Sometimes just being straight up evil helps make me feel better.

When I get lonely, or when I see everyone else having fun without me, I sit there and go… What if a giant meteor came and slammed into Central Park right now, obliterating all these people into dust. 

dead like me

And then a smile comes across my face. And I get a little less lonely. (Also, easter egg for any fellow Dead Like Me fans out there!)

 

Oh, oh oh!!!!!!! AND MY ULTIMATE FANTASY, I want to be like Aquaman (hot blonde Aquaman, not overly buff drag queen Aquaman)

 

                                       No thanks.                                   Yes please. 

 

Anyways, so I’d be like Aquaman….but as a villain!

OH, THINK OF THE FUN I COULD HAVE! 

Ok, imagine this…. It’s spring break,

spring

Slutty hos, and douchey bros line the beaches, having their pathetic fun…

 

But…do they know that I’ve summoned a giant swarm of sharks? 

meg

Sure, they can try to swim away…but really, with 500 great white sharks surrounding you, where exactly do you think you’re going to go? 

jaw

Suddenly, the attacks begin. And once everyone knows what’s going on…

It’s already too late! 

MWUAHAHAHA!

jaws

Oh, it’s so sadistic, it’s simply perfect! 

 

Think of it – First, people become afraid of the oceans. Giant swarms of shark attacks have become normal. But everyone thinks rivers and lakes are still safe, but bull sharks can live in freshwater! Suddenly, in places like the Mississippi River and the Great Lakes, giant shark attacks begin to take place. The entire human population won’t go anywhere near water. The pumps that suck in water begin to clog with algae because nobody is cleaning them… the human race begins to suffer from dehydration and famine.

Then, I come forward, revealing that I control the oceans. And I demand 5 things to make the attacks stop:

1.) I want a roller coaster built. The longest roller coaster in the world. It will span across state lines, it will be an incredible 5 hours of ride time, and it can’t be wooden, because that will hurt.

2.) Obviously, I’m now emperor of the entire world and Zac Efron has to quit acting and become my personal sex slave.

3.) US airlines must remove economy seating, because it’s just fucking miserable. Business class for all!

4.) Every Friday at 9pm the entire world must shut down, and the entire population must go to the local movie theater to view classic horror films – Scream, Halloween, Texas Chainsaw, Creepshow, House of 1000 Corpses, all of them. Every Friday until the end of time. This will surely make the human race a better one.

5.) The TV show Strangers With Candy will be renewed for another 5 seasons. The Avengers will be remade, in which every character dies 5 minutes into the first film, thus sparing us from a series of atrociously boring movies. And lastly, anyone who watched Game of Thrones must personally submit a 500 page to me, declaring that the show was stupid and waste of their time and that they’re sorry to everyone for making us have to listen to them go on and on about it for almost a decade.

 

You have my demands…. the choice is yours.

~ The Dark Horse

(No, this wasn’t proofread. Emperors of the world don’t need to proofread. Oh! That’s another one of my rules. I no longer have to proofread anything ,ever!)

Visiting Home After Being Gone a While

ohio

So, I’m back in Ohio right now visiting home, and it’s been very pleasant. The memories of how people treated me here are finally fading away as I get older, and I have to admit…I think that now that I finally feel successful…whatever anyone here thinks of me no longer matters.

For example- If someone here wants to hate me for being gay, well… I get paid to travel the world and write stories about it… Tell me Mr. white trash Ohioan, what do you do? Now that I’m happy and now that I feel worthwhile, ignorant trash suddenly seems like nothing more than, well, ignorant trash.

 

Dolly Parton has a song called Home (a very good song in fact)

 

And so much of it makes sense now. There really is no place like home. For better or for worse, there is only town where you grow up (unless you move). But for most of us, there’s only one town where you experience grade school and high school, and all the crap that comes along with it. And whether your experience sucked like mine, or was great like the some prom queen, it leaves a mark inside of you that shapes who you are.

There’s always something powerful about coming back. For me, it’s two-fold. Part of it makes me remember why I ran so far away. This town just isn’t me. It never was. I always wanted the world, I wanted to devote my life to a passion. And that just isn’t how most Ohioans feel. But at the same time, I also appreciate the things here that I can’t have in Manhattan. I love all the tree-lined streets, the quiet nights, the fireflies, the large nearby parks with wandering riverbeds and deers and foxes and squirrels and frogs. I love nature. And that love of nature is a big part of what spurred my love of travel. Coming home is always nice because it refuels my natural side. The side I lose in New York.

In a few weeks I take my next trip for work. I’m off to London!

london

 

I’m very excited! But London is big and sprawling and crowded. It’s the opposite of my hometown (and that will partly make me love it) But, it’s also encouraging me to suck up as much Ohio as I can right now.

I’m going to walk the family dog, ride my bike, sleep with my windows open, and embrace everything Ohio is. Everything I left behind.  Everything I hate. And Everything I still love.

 

~ The Dark Horse

(This was… 60% proofread?)

 

 

 

You’re Never Too Old, And I Have Proof.

wise

 

So, I’m home right now.  I got back from China last week and decided to have a little time in my hometown before I go back to school in a few weeks.  I visited with my grandma the other day and she told me a story that I loved and that I wanted to share:

 

She told me about her friend. Her friend is 93 years old, and still walks, talks, and even drives! Apparently, her friend’s grandson owns a tattoo parlor, which I find really funny because my grandma is a “church lady”, and the friend she was telling me about is someone who she puts on church events with. So the idea that this little old church lady has a tatted up grandson makes me smile.

wise1

 

And apparently, her grandson does more than just own a tattoo parlor… he’s a straight-up tattoo enthusiast. One of those types who’s covered head-to-toe and believes that everyone on Earth should have at least one tattoo.

So, he bugged her, telling her that he would give her a tattoo at some point.  But of course, being the little old church lady that she is, she said no.

For her 70th birthday, she said no.

For her 80th birthday, she said no.

But finally, on her 90th birthday she said, “What the hell, I’m 90.”

 

And, at 90 years old, she got her first tattoo, drawn on by her grandson. It was a butterfly.

wise3

 

When she told me that story, I couldn’t help but smile uncontrollably. I always fell like my life still hasn’t begun, and I fear that I’m going to die before I ever accomplish anything or before I’m ever happy.  So, to know that people are out there having new experiences at 90 years old makes me feel really good.  It makes me feel like maybe my life isn’t over yet. Like maybe there are still some new experiences down the road for me.

Also, it kind of puts things into perspective.  I’m 28. And I’m sure that if I were to talk to this 93-year-old-tatted-up-rockstar-church-lady, and told her that I feel like what should have been the best years of my life are behind me and have been wasted, she’d probably laugh. She’s probably done a lot in her life between the ages of 28 and 93. Hell, she probably did a lot between the ages of 50 and 93, or even 70 and 93!

 

I guess I liked this story so much because it showed me that it’s never too late to do things. You’re never actually too old or too whatever you excuse is. We all have the chance to be our best and have fun everyday. Regardless of age.

 

~ The Dark Horse

(This was maybe 10% proofread, and I’ll admit, I proofread while sipping tea so I had a giant mug covering most of my view of the screen…but hey, it was a great cup of tea!)