Tag Archives: life

SPRING IS ALMOST HERE!

early spring

It’s March.

I’m sick with the flu. But Its March. So it’s ok. Spring is almost here. Winter is almost gone. Oh god oh god oh god… DEEP BREATH… I’m just so thankful. I don’t want to be dramatic or anything, but I swear winter is the most oppressive force known to man. All the darkness. The cold. And the colds. During January and February, I spend the entire two months feeling like I’m struggling just to live. Like every breath is harder and harder to take.

drowning

Ok, I promised I wouldn’t be dramatic.

But it’s soooooo hard! Winter fucking sucks. Winter is honestly the worst thing that’s ever happened to planet Earth. And sure, sure… I know. We need winter. The preserved water held in ice and snowpack on mountains that thaws slowly through the rest of spring and summer is what provides fresh water to numerous plats and animals all over the world…

BUT DEAR SWEET LORD! IS THERE NO BETTER WAY? 

Or, government of Singapore, if you’re reading this, can I please have a visa to live in your country? I will gladly live in 85 degree weather forever and ever til’ death do we part!

springtime

But, It’s March. Let us not forget this! IT IS MOTHERFUCKING MARCH! Soon, the weather will warm. Trees will bloom. Cold and flu season will die ( YESSS DIE YOU SONS OF BITCHES!!!!! DIE DIE DIE!!!!) and I won’t have to bundle under layer upon layer just to go do anything.

I’m currently living in this converted warehouse in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, so It’s always cold (at least during the winter) so I even have to bundle up just to go pee.

Goals for Spring – No longer have the flu. And move out of Brooklyn.

To where? who knows. Perhaps Manhattan? Or perhaps halfway around the world?

~ The Dark Horse

 *** Not proofread, still sick (with the FLU I might add… where’s my pity?) so therefore, by rule of blogging, I don’t have to proofread ***

 

 

 

 

 

So, I Kind of Lied

brooklyn boulders

So, I have a confession to make. In the last post, I mentioned that I had to go to indoor rock climbing with my new friend. I had said I didn’t want to go because of how expensive it was and because of how annoying all the indoor rock climbing people are.

And don’t get me wrong, that’s all true. But that wasn’t the real reason why I was dreading it so much. The truth is, I was afraid. There’s a lot that I haven’t done in my life. Since nobody talked to me growing up, and since I had to deal with the panic attacks and agoraphobia…my life has been quite small. There’s a lot I have never done.

And nobody is good at things they’ve never done before. So, my real fear was that I was going to fail. I was terrified of having a fear of heights on the huge walls, or of being too weak to pull myself up. I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of my new friend, especially since its’s practically impossible for me to make friends. I also didn’t want to have a panic attack while I was three stories up on a climbing wall.

I was fearing the worst.

rock climbing

I couldn’t stop thinking about spending $50 just to have a horrible night and wind up losing a friend because of what a total pussy I am.

But, I’m proud to say that I did it. And the night went well. And I climbed to the very top of the wall (granted, it was on the Level 1 rock wall) BUT, STILL! I was there, dammit! 

I climbed that Level 1 wall and made it my bitch.

I also felt very emotional after. I say this all the time. Life after agoraphobia is like being born a second time. You find yourself having your “firsts” all over again. Your first walk around the block. Your first trip to the grocery store. Your first ride on the subway. And still, even five years after agoraphobia, I still find myself having these firsts.

But granted, nowadays, they’re things like “First time speaking at a podium” and “First time to London” and “First time indoor rock climbing.”  I’ve come a very long way from that apartment in Melbourne, where I was all alone, making my very first walk down Clarke Street.

indoor rock climbing gif

First steps lead to first climbs I suppose.

 

~ The Dark Horse

Revenge Part 3: The Shampoo

shampoo

The revenge must continue! For anyone needing a catch-up, here’s what happened: I found out my roommate was overcharging $300 in rent every month. I called him out on it, so he’s kicking me out. I have to find a new apartment by Dec. 1.

So, I’ve had no choice but to get revenge, because come on, what a douche.

This morning, I got in the shower and played Better Version of Me (the unreleased version) by Fiona Apple. It was morning, so I had to pee, cuz I always have to pee in the mornings. So I unscrewed my roommate’s shampoo bottle…

herbal essences

And I pissed into it. Messy? Yes. Gross? Yes. Revenge? You bet your fuckin’ ass.

And if you’re feeling bad for him, remember, since August he’s accumulated $1,200 in profit from me, simply for being my roommate. He isn’t a landlord or groundskeeper. He doesn’t pay for utilities or supplies… he’s just my roommate, who is robbing me.

So, the revenge will continue, all the way until I move out!

shampoo 1

~ The Dark Horse

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?

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)

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?)