Tag Archives: inspiration

Roswell, New Mexico is Making Me Feel Lots of Stuff…

rsowell

So, you all know that the CW brought back a remake (of sorts) of the old 90’s show Roswell, right? The new show, Roswell, New Mexico, is so good. Am I embarrassed to admit this? Sure…. No, actually, not really. This show has me acting like a 14-year-old girls, and listen up bitches, I don’t give a fuck.

OH MY GOD.

I have been binging a few episodes a day for the past week, and I am an emotional firestorm right now.

Ok, so the show is about 3 aliens who crashed in the Roswell incident, but was kept in stasis for years. Now, they’re all like 29 or 30 or something. The main alien, Max, is in love with Liz. Liz gets shot in a hate crime, and Max brings her back to life because he’s always loved her.

Max Roswell

Oh my God….. In the original show, Max was my crush. oh-meh-gawwww he made me so giddy. I had such a crush on him. Also, I should mention, I watched the original series during my time in Australia. Back when I was agoraphobic, stuck in my apartment. This show almost singlehandedly saved my life. It made me feel so much emotion in a time when all I felt was dread. I owe the original series so much.

But the new show… In the new show, we find out that Max’s bad boy brother, Michael, is actually gay (squeal!) Actually… I think I saw a photo of him having sex with a girl… so I think in the coming episodes he’s going to turn out to be bi or pansexual or something… sigh. But for now, he’s gay. And he’s a kick-ass gay. And he’s the bad boy cowboy of my dreams.

michael roswell

Oh sweet Lord.

Oh.

my.

sweet.

dear.

lord.

above.

Oh Lawd!, I’m feeling the vapors! Somebody catch me, I’m gonna’ faint!

faint

But aside from the the hot man candy in the show, it’s just great in general. It’s larger than life. It’s got aliens. Epic chases. Adventure. Friendship. Love.

It’s everything the teenage me never got to experience, and you know what, I don’t mind indulging in it now. I’m allowed to. I missed out on too much life then, so I’m allowed to be 29 watching shows for teenagers now. Deal with it.

Throughout the week I’ve felt such a rush of… well, feeling human. Kind of funny. A show about aliens helps me feel human. But, it does. It makes me feel excited. it makes me feel horny. It makes me have a crush. It makes me want my life to be more fulfilled.

roswell new mexico

Look, I get inspired in there weirdest of places, and I don’t give a fuck. As long as it happens. The show is making me determined to be more social. I want to find a cute boy. I think I’m allowed that. And I want to keep striving for adventure.

I have completely melted into a dumbass teenager. But who knows, maybe that’s good sometimes. Sometimes, maybe we all need to remember the joy, the rush and the excitement we felt when we were young. Being an adult is hard. It zaps all our energy. It’s full of pain and stress. Feeling young again is good for you, right? So, stay home tonight, put on Roswell and geek out.

~ The Dark Horse

 

 

 

A Psychic Randomly Read Me…

medium

So, I’m not making this up…

I had to interview a psychic medium last week for a story I was assigned. The story wasn’t about her though. It was about her father. I was to interview this woman to ask questions about her famous father who is now deceased.

So, the interview is going well, and I’m getting lots of good info about her father and everything seems normal. I’m not giving any personal info about me, and the chat has had nothing to do with me or her.

Out of the blue she goes, “And by the way, you need to stop worrying.”

I stop and pause.

I’m like… “What?”

She’s like, “Yeah, I know you’re always stressing about your life, and you worry about your future, but don’t. You’re a very talented person, and extremely smart. You can’t see it yet, but you’re working towards your goals, and you have some very big things ahead of you.”

psychci

I didn’t quite know how to respond. The conversation has been professional and about her father. Now, suddenly this happening.

I was like… “Oh. Um, thank you…”

Then, I swear to God, without missing a beat, she’s just like, “Also…hmmm… there’s a relationship coming. But maybe we should talk about that another time?”

I was like, “A relationship?!?”

And she’s like, “Yeah, you’re going to meet a boy. And he’s going to be really good for you. He isn’t going to hold you back. It’s going to be a great relationship.”

Now, look. I know anyone could make this stuff up, and I have gay voice, so she probably could have assumed I’m gay, but even so… think of how offensive that could have been? Like, calling someone gay isn’t something a stranger can just do, especially in a professional interview… that is, unless that stranger is actually looking into your future…

reading

So then I was like… “Oh, I’ve never been in love before.”

And she’s like, “I know. And you’re not ready yet, and that’s fine. You’re working on yourself right now and your career, which is exactly what you should be doing. But I’m seeing like… a year, maybe a year and a half from now… you’re going to be in really great place.”

After the interview I had a chills, and they were running up and down my spine, and they wouldn’t stop. I had a moment where I legit had to ask myself, Did I just have a genuine brush with the supernatural? 

But, hopefully it’s true haha! I guess, we shall see in a year!

 

~ The Dark Horse

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)

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)

Oh, My Dear Editor Friend…You Have F***** With The Wrong Bitch.

writer

Oh, Mr. Journal Editor from the workshop today…. Oh, oh, oh, you poor, poor thing.

To anyone out there who doesn’t live in my head and needs context for what’s going on – Today in my writing workshop an editor from a literary journal came by. I read to him the first few pages of an essay I’m working on about my time hustling in LA.

I was told “While I would probably continue on past the second page, It sounds like anyone could have written it.”

Anyone?

A true story about running away and having sex for money to avoid homelessness can simply be written by anyone?????

ANYWAYS... So, I contacted my editor today who has been helping me with this story. I think it’s great. And I think it isn’t written in a normal way at all. In fact, one of the critiques I regularly receive about my writing is that it isn’t normal enough. I’m told I’m too causal, I cuss too much, It’s “like I’m having a conversation with someone.” (which, to me, is an honor, because that’s how I want to write.)

So, I just revised the essay a little bit. I streamlined that shit so fuckin hard that NOBODY can say it isn’t worthy of publication. It’s funny, it’s sad, it’s scary, it’s real, it’s perfect.

 

So, now…

revenge

It’s time to get revenge on that stupid journal editor. 

 

I’m going to get that published. This will happen. Vengeance will be mine. A flame has been lit inside me. A flame you don’t want to fuck with.

revenge 2

 

I’m going to get this essay published because I know it’s good. I’ve worked hard on it. It’s worthy of being read. Let’s do this. 

~ The Dark Horse