What I Learned: September 11

This week, I like trains, Made In America is a dustbowl dance, drones are both awesome and terrifying, I have no idea what I’m doing and I have a dream where basically everything I want happens, I just need the universe to deliver.

Saturday

so basically I’m struggling with extreme anxiety which causes me to take a sleeping pill the night before (I got home at 9pm, ate nothing, took a shower, took a pill in bed at 10p. ON A FUCKING FRIDAY) and wake up in the early morning like a groggy drunk four times before the actual alarm goes off.

We’re off to a rolling start.

I head to the office early to pick up gear and race to Penn Station in the hopes of catching a 10 am Acela train to Philadelphia. I have a plan and everything seems to be in order but we all know that those things don’t actually mean a gotdamned thing.

We wind up getting on a  train a full hour afterwards that pulls us directly to Philly where we embark on what I hope will be the least anxiety inducing day of my young career.

Again.

THAT.

DOESN’T HAPPEN.

I get the passes from the wicked hotel, we head to the festival grounds and proceed to sweat.

The truncated version of this story goes like this:

  • I almost punched someone out during Modest Mouse.
  • Nick Jonas struggles WAY too hard to put soul into his voice. You’re on a Justin Timberlake track, just let it happen organically babe.
  • Glitch Mob plays a lot of moombaton
  • Drunk girls are the worst creatures on the planet, second only to drunk frat bros.
  • Cops on bikes are absolutely adorable.
  • Puke is gross, chunky puke grosser, beer puke is basically the reason why beer sucks.
  • Halsey is the day AFTER we leave; I won’t get to stare at her.
  • Deathcab for Cutie is immaculate live
  • meek mill got away with doing karaoke hits from other rappers, yelling and bringing out Nicki Minaj yet I’m still perplexed how his fans think he WON against Drake. He basically admitted he’s powerless.
  • Beyonce basically sounds like top 40 radio cranked to fifteen in hell, complete with overwrought wailing, unnecessary remixes to her own basic songs about female empowerment, a lot of circle ass movements and bamboozled everyone by performing a third of Destiny’s Child’s three albums (because she owns the rights to everything because of course she does)
  • Bar wings on an Amtrak are glorious but a whisky chaser and I’m basically living a golden life.

Sunday

Flying by the seat of my pants, spend an hour and change on the phone with my brother trying to remind myself that my depression shouldn’t keep sneaking up the way it does. He reminds me that every time I start to feel shitty its when I’ve had a major project that seems like it was a nightmare to even pull off. I tell him the two can’t be connected that’s just crazy.

OR maybe it’s not. It’s in my head.

I’m lucky to be working.

I get on the train and basically listen to Slipknot.

Monday

I struggle to avoid answering emails again but I do it and settle a few things.

I send a charming flirty text to Waffle asking about Shake Shack and a play day.

swing and a miss

I struggle to get out of bed. But I do that. I struggle to take a shower. I do that too. I wanted to get dressed and buy some half priced comics. I don’t do that. I read Libba Bray’s magnificent post about her struggles with depression. feel it on a deeper level and wind up finishing a project because I was holding onto it in the hopes that my genius (which is suffering) would shine through. I just press publish and wait for the responses at this point. I want it to be good but realize that I’ve been working on this for quite some time and they’re just for fun, they’re not my real works or passion but it’s keeping me busy and distracted.

I spend another hour and change on the phone with my brother. He knows I’m feeling lousy and doesn’t ask about my going over there. I owe him a big weekend.

Tuesday

I wake up highly motivated but by highly motivated I mean I wind up getting out of bed at a decent hour and attempting to dress. I do get dressed only to wind up getting food with mom. I wind up going upstairs and staying there.

giphy

I wind up watching Serena/Venus knowing exactly how it’s going to end even though I want an insane upset but it doesn’t happen.

Wednesday

I start my day with another Waffle call and find that these things are starting to be a habit…which I like….and then that gross feeling of hope starts blossoming in my chest and try as I might, I can’t shake it at all. I don’t want to but It feels like that scene in Carmilla where Laura tells Carmilla not to kiss her or be around her because it’s y’know, feelings and stuff.

Fuck it.

I’m waiting on that payback Universe.

I do a terrific job of getting out of bed and out of my house to go to work and up comic books and action figures.

YES.

I do.

I talk myself out of buying a pile and get only the essentials because I have to be a decent person for fucks sake and also NYCC is coming.

nnmmmmmmmmmmmmohmygod

Thursday

Things happen. Honestly? Can’t remember.

mostly because an accidental ‘what up bro’ text turns into ‘bro, come to this event tonight’ which leads to 4am burgers at a diner.

SO.

I make an ass of myself with LA Reid (serverely distracted by work emails and texts so I COMPLETELY miss his speaking to me like a regular person. We’re talking about my Wen Kroy Danger cap (thanks Mighty Healthy) and I joke about not quizzing me about being a serious Rangers fan. I’m a certifiable moron.

this hat is basically my favorite hat ever.

So I go inside, get some Ketel One and Red Bull because I’m actually a college sophomore and those things excite me and listen to what is possibly going to be my favorite album ever once it’s released.

BIG GRAMS IS THE TRUTH

The quick jaunt out into the world turns into an adventure when we pile into an Uber and wind up at Webster Hall where, despite my VIP tags, I’m denied VIP Access but still wind up yelling most of the words to Cam’ron’s music as it blasts from the main stage because…he was there…

I have more Hypontiq in my body that I’ve ever had before…a full decade after I was old enough to buy it.

We walk out, sweaty and confused with ringing ears and end up eating burgers at a diner that I’ve come to love. I burn the shit out of my mouth, shovel all the food into my face hole and get home at 5am.

lit forever

Friday

I have to run a shoot for adidas.

BRANDING FOREVER.

It goes well and the funny thing is that I know the guy who’s running security because one of my past lives entailed my having to be a security/service person. My natural instinct is to make friends and pass cards with the staff; because, as previously mentioned those people will always be working and you want to have fun and they know you’re fun, they’ll share the fun. I can’t drink and work, its just not something that’s good to do.

I learned that I’m capable of much and many things this week but even superheroes have their limits.

god bod

it’s also bizarre to be at an event in SoHo where I can see the Lights…The weather was the same today as it was fourteen years ago. It’s strange to think that I was pocket sized, full of hope and never knew what was to come. It’s just a strange day and weekend because it doesn’t feel like we should be hobnobbing when people were killed nearly steps away from you and the fashion show. I know it’s been years and people learn to heal from it but it’s still a bit strange for me.

Whatever.

What Romantic Movies Get Wrong About Romance

So, it’s not real secret that I’m in an awkwardly estranged relationship with Waffle. It’s going on two years I think and I’m still very much traumatized by the entire ordeal. I say estranged because we didn’t break up it was a break and we just kept staying very close to each other. Like, seeing each other every other day close. Waffle’s logic was being unhappy because, admittedly, we were fighting a lot but I challenge anyone who’s been in or is in a relationship to say you didn’t bicker. I’ll call you a liar. THE GRANDADDY OF ALL LIARS. Our arguments were typical, “What do you want to see?” “Why don’t you want to leave the house…” Waffle is a homebody and I’m pretty active so when it came to Netflix and chill, I was cool for awhile but then I wanted to be outside. Irony being what it is, I don’t want to be outside anymore because that means being alone and I can’t stand my own company.

-In all honesty, Waffle is a gift because of all the time we spent together, I felt like maybe I could be by myself but then was like, hell nope-

Romance is a strange thing. I’m romantic in a strange nerd way; I see something in a store and I pick it up and surprise you with whatever it is because I was thinking of you. I don’t do flowers because I tend to be allergic to them so by the time I deliver them my eyes are swollen and my nose is runny; I’m not very pretty so becoming the Zicam snot monster is kinda like…well…it’s just unpleasant.

I spend a lot of time secretly watching romantic comedies, especially off-beat ones where they’re so formulaic I can write them on a post it, mail it to some studio in LA and it’ll have Kiera Knightly or some other white girl in role with up and coming middle of the road sort of attractive twenty something male lead with an upbeat soundtrack and that one song that radio overplayed ad-nauseum. I’m obsessed to a degree with the movie “A Lot like Love” because at one point, I had a relationship like that. I use the word loosely in that regard; we were never going to be anything more than people who depended on each other until the right one came along. Charlie was already into someone else and I was just the support system until the other person got a hint. I haven’t seen Charlie in years and that was when Waffle and I started. My absolute favorite, kill me I have feelings movie is “Imagine Me & You” where the above header gif is from. Second place goes to “Saving Face” which perfectly captures the “holy shit I’m in love with you but I can’t really be all gay in everyone’s face about it but girl the world is yours” essence of just absolutely clicking with someone. Each of these movies have created an unrealistic view of love. They’re also INCREDIBLY gay but, whatever. It works in stages. You’re happy, madly in love, here’s a middle plot point that’s kinda meh (wanting kids, being out etc) and then someone makes the grand gesture.

Disney movies messed up other girls while I’m like, nahhhh kid, chill.

Just climb onto the roof of your parents Range Rover and yell:

I’m Han Solo in Star Wars; shooting the stormtrooper and winking.

I’m the guy at the end of whatever movie running in telling whoever they’re marrying the wrong person. (with my luck I’m the wrong person and that movie ends awkwardly)

I don’t date. I can’t. I don’t like people. I don’t trust them. Call it a survival skill. The farther away from them I am, the safer I feel. They’re savages. They just want to fuck and get it over with. I’ve only ever bonded with one person (which backfired after two years and resulted in the most abusive relationship I’ve ever been in) and the one person that I genuinely believe my soul is stuck with is Waffle. I just knew.

I do big things. I have done big things to get Waffle back because movies have made me think that these things are the things that need to be done to make it known that I’m not going anywhere. Sleep on the porch like Zac Braff’s character in “The Last Kiss” until his fiancé opens the door and let’s him back in even though I didn’t even cheat. (Sidebar: Waffle started listening to Coldplay because of this movie. First concert I took her to, Coldplay. DO YOU SEE?!) I’d fight bears, lions and tigers in Street Fighter. I’d cross oceans, roam caves, climb mountains just to make it known that I’m serious about this. I’ve messed up with our disagreements and think that not all horror movies are created equal and can love you better.

I probably told the story before of how we met so I won’t go over it again but the problem isn’t that the break was the most awkward thing in the world it’s that movies have made me think that time, patience and the belief in love conquering all can fix this. I’m a mess. Full disclosure. I’m working a great, stressful job, doing my best to keep my manic depression in check without medication, failing at a proper sleep schedule and the gym and I aren’t even talking to each other (it’s on the list of things that need to be fixed along with doing laundry regularly and not buying new bottles of whiskey) BUT this thing with Waffle is the thing that consumes me to the point of madness. I feel like utter shit because in all this time, the work, the effort, the achievement, means nothing compared to being able to look at Waffle with big stupid heart eyes and have them returned in kind. I’m jealous of celebrities and their romances. I never posted photos of us online because that was for me, for us. I didn’t want to put that out there where other people can judge and talk shit and throw comments. I was Waffle’s and Waffle was mine and that’s what mattered. What matters.

I sound insane.

I relate so hard to this

Romantic movies tell you that it’s all fixable. That you recover from heartbreak and fall in with someone else when you’re ready. That you’ll be sitting somewhere ready to move on and there they will be, standing there with a smile asking forgiveness and saying they want to try again. Romantic movies tell you it’s fine to lay in bed a few months and cry about it, know that they’re doing their own thing and they’ll regret it. They tell you get a revenge body, get even but the reality is, you’ll spend more time crying and more time eating and more time trying to understand why you’re so broken up about it that you’ll forget to think about them having a life and wonder what your own life is. Romantic movies have fun soundtracks and good lighting and sex scenes that make you miserable.

Infinite tenderness my aching ass.

Romantic movies complicate everything.

That’s what they get wrong.

They make it seem like within 90 minutes or three hours, you’ll have a solution. People just fall back into place after falling out of sync. They make it seem like there is some kind of solution and that everything works EXACTLY like this and you spend all this time looking for the signs to find your personal solution and resolve your own issue. You spend all this time analyzing and overthinking and dismantling and repairing before you can just admit it, you’re a mess and that person is the only one who can fix it so you wait and wait and wait for them to come to the same conclusion because that’s what happens right?

Romantic movies say that someone has a little lightbulb go off and they run run run run run back to you. They run and they catch you just before you get on the train, before you get on the plane before you leave them behind because you just can’t do it.

Nobody does that.

Nobody.

All my OTP’s are a total mess because nobody does that.

They won’t swallow their pride and try again and Waffle says there were attempts. (Odds are there were and I was too hurt to see them and fix them but to be fair, they weren’t identified as such). Nobody admits they were wrong and they want another shot, not in the way that romantic movies say they will. (I’m actually doing that all the time. My dignity can’t keep taking those hits but I have no shame or dignity and honestly I don’t have much else) No one fights for love anymore. They say it’s dead but that’s mostly because we’re all walking around broken from not trying; we let someone else beat us up and didn’t bother to fix any of it.

thanks Rick

Romantic movies, are garbage. They make you aspire to things that don’t exist. I’m here, literally and figuratively pouring everything out for Waffle and it’s not doing anything. I know there’s a million things happening in both of our worlds but it’s hell doing things alone and the thing is, neither of us have to be alone.

They can guide you, inspire you, they make you forget the world is trash and make you believe that you’ll find the one, make it work and get that happily ever after.

Love is compromise. You have to suck up certain things, concede other things, win and lose. You have to accept that the other person writes terrible Facebook posts, takes duck face selfies and has done the hip out, hair flip pose. You have to understand that they’re not as tech savvy as you are and that they don’t pay attention to the world the way you do. You have to accept that you’re both different and that kind of different is why you work. You can’t yell at them about something stupid, then demand a ring back and when they hand it to you, you can’t start crying and shove it back on their finger and tell them don’t be stupid and muttering I love you repeatedly into their mouths while you’re kissing them. you can’t. It’s why they leave you. It’s why you have to fight to get them back because it’s a compromise and you can only argue with yourself about nothing for so long before it starts to get painfully lonely and you stare at photos of the two of you wondering why you completely fucked up the best thing in your life. Suddenly you’re not the one wanting to chased, you’re chasing, even though you do. Love is desire. The need to be loved and love someone in the same way so it’s mutual and it works.

I still believe in us and that’s the saddest part about it. Maybe because it’s a movie and they’re supposed to kill time, the time that’s kill me  is the muddling middle of those movies; the part where the music swells and the tears fall and we just keep missing each other until we connect. Maybe I’m just a terrible optimist and I just keep holding onto the hope that it’ll all make sense that it’ll all get better and that things will end just like they do in the movies.

99 Problems: Cat Lady

In the same vein as What I Learned, 99 Problems is where I tell you my…well…99 problems.

So random problem is I am an animal person. I like animals far more than people and while animals can be temperamental as fuck, they are also forgiving, understanding and bond with the people who care most for them. There’s a bodega near me with two cats, a fat handsome son of a bitch named Mickey and a recently adopted (see, rescued) white tabby I’ve named Bingbong. (I don’t know if he’s got a name but he looks like a Bingbong) Bingbong lives in the bodega and has bonded with one of the guys who works there, super cutely I may add because he plays with Bingbong instead of working. In any case, because I am a fan of Bodega Cats of Instagram I like taking pictures of the little weirdos as they do their cat thing.

This is Bingbong

This is Mickey

This morning I was walking to the train and saw Bingbong a little too far out for my cat momma taste. He was off in a corner away from the bodega entrance and staring off into kitten space. People are savages in my neighborhood. Another cat named Nancy, who lived in the West Indian deli next to me went missing a few days after Halloween. They have a new cat named Frank (I think they’re Sinatra fans) who’s basically under lock and key now. So I worried about Bingbong because he darted out to chase some pigeons.

Super adorable because he’s tiny.

Anxiety inducing because he’s tiny.

I stare at him for a few minutes, debating what I should do in this situation because I’m heading to work and he’s not my cat.

He’s laying in the gutter, his little cat butt wiggling while he’s trying to sneak up on the pigeons.

Traffic is gearing up to move, the cars inching forward because cabbies can’t fucking wait to race to the next red light. Where Bingbong is laying is a right in the bus lane and guess what’s coming. I know he’s not paying attention and I know these bastards don’t care so I pick him up, keep him at arms length and carry him back into the bodega. “Keep your little ass in the store, cat.” After dropping off the little scoundrel, I head into the train station like I didn’t just run in screaming “PROTECT ALL THE HAIRY BABIES 2K15” and lock him in a box. I drop about a quarter bottle of anti bacterial hand sanitizer on my hands and then wash them again when I get to work. It’s not that I think he’s got mites or fleas or general unkempt cat issues, I’m just severely allergic to cats.

I am the mother for four.

I felt really good doing it too. Go figure. If I could save all the babies, I would.

I guess that’s where I have cat lady problems.

May The Dork Be With You

Truly in the great pantheon of nerdom, there is no greater turbo pun besides the beloved It’s Gonna Be May than May The 4th.

Star Wars was released in 1977 and here we are, decades later, still making “That’s no moon, that’s your momma” jokes and gargling like Wookies in the morning. Did George Lucas, the all-father of the universe anticipate this level of absolute nerd? Nope. Not at all. He had the foresight to retain global and domestic rights for the films (before selling to Disney who now owns everyone’s chlidhood FYI) and copyright the term DROID but this level of celebration?

Nope.

According to the official Star Wars page:

One of the earliest known records of “May the 4th” used in popular culture is in 1979, as described here by author Alan Arnold while he was chronicling the making of The Empire Strikes Back for Lucasfilm:

Friday, May 4

“Margaret Thatcher has won the election and become Britain’s first woman prime minister. To celebrate their victory her party took a half page of advertising space in the London Evening News. This message, referring to the day of victory, was ‘May the Fourth Be With You, Maggie. Congratulations,’ further proof of the extent to which Star Wars has influenced us all.”

Once the Internet allowed Star Wars fans around the world to connect with one another, May the 4th soon became a grassroots tradition each year, with fans online and offline proclaiming it “Star Wars Day.”

While the idea of May the 4th did not start with Lucasfilm, the film company that created Star Wars has fully embraced the spirit of fandom that makes the day so special. StarWars.com as well as the official Star Wars social media channels (hashtag #StarWarsDay) help spread the word and showcase fan activity. More and more official partners have offered sales, giveaways and exclusives, and have hosted parties and other activities to mark the day.

May the 4th kicks off a season of celebration, particularly since the month of May has always been important to Star Warsfans. The six live-action movies of the Star Wars saga debuted in May (starting with the original Star Wars on May 25, 1977). The month of May includes George Lucas’ birthday (May 14, 1944), and has been the traditional start date of the popular Star Wars Weekends at Walt Disney World Resort.

With the exciting launch of a new trilogy of movies beginning with Star Wars: The Force Awakens coming in the near future, this day to celebrate the saga and its amazing fans is certain to become even bigger each year.”

It’s become a holiday of sorts with bigger and better things happening every year.

Y’know like a giant light up Millennium Falcon built in less than 20 parsecs (basically fuck you Kessel Run)

Star Wars is as banged up as the ships the films made famous. Sure, it’s battered, scraped, duct taped together but it’s your battered hunk of space junk and you’ll be damned if someone slanders it. That’s why May 4th, the mad up holiday about a made up bunch of people in a galaxy far far away is so much fun; it’s the hokey thing you wanted to believe in because it made the world you lived in seem better. The Force, Jedi, Sith, space pirates, bounty hunters, bun hair dos the whole thing just felt like a place that was real enough to feel welcoming but still made you wary of all the scum and villainy you see in the spaceport. Or the bus depot. While the world may not be perfect, the SW universe reflected that in a way that most movies don’t; where heroes, villains, outlaws and vandals are everyone’s favorite kind of people. Perhaps the most telling thing about the SW universe is that it endured two full generations with no signs of slowing down.

I was in seventh grade when they re-released the trilogy to theaters (with the blast ring that wasn’t in the original…so basically I unsaw what I had seen at the age of 7, the perfectly good explody Death Star, ring free) and was hooked. My mom saw it in it’s original release in ’77. Thought it was good and that was it. there you have two generations of viewers (one who just never let go)

I’m actually sitting in an office, all young professional n wotnot wearing a Star Wars t-shirt, Star Wars (Han and Chewie) vans and my New Era cap (which is respectfully off even though rules are pretty lean here) This morning, venerable Disney morning money maker Good Morning America previewed the cover of Vanity Fair featuring the first look at Episode VII: The Force Awakens. 

I hate mornings but honestly, I was up and eating a peanut butter sandwich and ugly crying at the sight.

Shot by famed photographer, Annie Leibowitz the cover and accompanying piece covers the super secretive process behind J.J. Abrams’ lensflare world we’re familiar with, characters we haven’t met and oh yeah, fucking X-WINGS BEING FLOWN BY CUBANS. Oscar Issac, on hot streak so hot (hot damn) he’s basically slowly cornering the sci-fi nerd market, one move at a time. (Sidebar, I’m excited he’s the second latino in space…Jimmy Smits was the first Puerto Rican. I’ve always wanted to go so I’d be like, third although, Smits’ Bail Organa was the adoptive father to Leia Organa so technically…Princess Leia is Puerto Rican) In any case…

The Star Wars team knows the power of their Star Wars, even going so far as to ensure any and all information related to what is going to be a bigger release than Marvel’s The Avengers: Age of Ultron (lengthy damned title) to maximize on complete and total nerd meltdown. Perhaps it speaks to the power of The Force that after so many years, so many missteps and Jar Jar Binks, the love is still there for the franchise started by a guy who basically took on a complicated dare.

Let that be a lesson to you all: If someone says that you can’t, do it.

May The Force Be With You.

Ten Years, Ten Songs Part 1

Ten Years Later, These Pop Songs Still Get Us

 

Believe it or not, some of your favorite songs are turning ten years old this year. Take a minute to appreciate that. Celebrate these ten favorites by taking a trip down memory lane and showing off at your next Throwback Thursday karaoke party.

 

Rihanna- Pon De Replay

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oEauWw9ZGrA

It’s hard to believe we’ve been jamming to Rihanna for ten years. What’s also hard? Them abs.

 

Snoop Dogg ft Pharrell Williams – Drop it Like It’s Hot

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GtUVQei3nX4

Admit it, you still try to emulate Pharrell’s tongue click and hum this when using a microwave.

 

Gwen Stefani – Hollaback Girl

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kgjkth6BRRY

Uh huh, holy s**t this song is ten years old. You still remember how to spell banana thanks to this song.

 

Ciara ft Missy Elliott- 1,2 Step

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iBHNgV6_znU

This…track…is… ten years old are you feeling old yet? Still can’t skate dance either. Ciara’s hips are hypnotizing.

 

Fall Out Boy – Dance, Dance

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C6MOKXm8x50

The kings of guyliner, pop punk playfulness and those sweet sweet dance moves. Still don’t know what they’re saying after all these years.

 

Mariah Carey – We Belong Together

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0habxsuXW4g

Possibly one of Mariah’s most quotable love songs just behind “Always Be My Baby”, like MC herself has aged well.

 

Rob Thomas – Lonely No More

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7spBU4Yv8fE

The song that always seem to be on lite radio’s perpetual loop whenever you go to the doctor’s office, drug store or a ride with your aunt in her 05 Camry.

 

Game ft 50 Cent – Hate It or Love It

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BuMBmK5uksg

Bringing New York and Los Angeles rap together, however briefly, over a classic Marvin Gaye melody, this song still manages to make you bop.

Kanye West ft Jamie Foxx – Gold Digger

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6vwNcNOTVzY

Eighteen years, eighteen years…

 

The Black Eyed Peas – My Humps

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iEe_eraFWWs

Few songs have boggled the mind of music fans more than what exactly humps the BEPs were referring to, 10 years later scholars and scientists alike agree, nobody knows.

 

I’m @invisiblecircus on the Twitters. Let’s talk about the good ol days and telling kids to get off our digital lawns.

What I Learned in 2014

It’s already 2:30 in the morning on January 1, 2015.

I had days to put this together but chose when I am buzzed and oddly nostalgic to put this together.

in 2015 I will be 31 years old.

That’s odd to type, but that’s what it is.

I learned, back in 2014, that that’s what happens, you get old. you realize that things are happening and you’re aging and you can either get Botox or get with it. I got with it.

I accept it.

I learned that when you take a job with a company, you should do something about making sure you know your rights.

I learned that when you learn your rights, you should commit them to memory because that way, you won’t, no matter what, repeat the same naive thing. Sure, I had that job when I was 28 and didn’t know any better, I still should’ve exorcised some kind of adult type of discipline and looked into what I was walking into. So there’s your first tip: look into things, make sure you understand what’s happening because if you’re like me and you’ve spend your life working for barest minimum doing whatever you can to make sure you’re somewhat comfortable, you’re doing things wrong. You’re not reading fine prints, you’re not checking the labels and that’s where things get weird.

I learned that just because people are nice to you doesn’t mean they’re going to always be that way. Most of them are looking for things and reasons to build their own empires. They will build them on your back. Don’t curve your spine to make someone else’s empire stand tall.

I learned that I am not a cat.

I am a dark slippy thing and I shall slip around in the darkness.

I learned that I am actually a wolf.

A dragon.

A beast.

A hydra with the golden fleece on my shoulders.

I am a many headed, many limbed thing that breathes fire, born of blood and in the darkness that many fear to tread.

I am that thing that people post Facebook as a status.

That is my life.

I am a creature that breathes fire, drinks blood, lives in the darkness and basks in the promise of the light.

I am a conundrum.

A nightmare dressed like a daydream.

I learned that I like men and women.

I like them strong.

I like them brave.

I like one woman in particular who is still just out of my reach but still manages to consistently take my breath away and I will stand here completely still, immobile until she realizes that this is who I am and we are just what we are made to be; perfectly imperfect, disaster wearing matching t-shirts with fun choices in tattoos and a penchant for leaving hilarious dick jokes on people’s personal property. She knows who she is. She has my heart and she always will. Hell or high water.

I learned that I love a woman more than my very own life and that’s why I’m still here, trying to impress her.

I learned that I like to be surprised. Even if it’s in the stupidest ways.

I learned that I am still working on things that no one understand and that I am just fine with that.

I learned that whiskey makes me strong, vodka makes me laugh, tequila is strange and rum sneaks up on me.

All of them together make me a human muppet.

I learned that despite everything, the failures, the job loss, the confusion and lack of understanding with what it is I can do in this world, I am still a wolf. I was raised to be a wolf and if I was thrown to them, I came back leading a pack because that’s what resourceful people do.

I learned I am not resourceful.

I’m actually thrifty, crafty and a survivor.

I learned that my strange family is much more normal that I’ve given them credit for and someday, I’ll tell you all about it.

I’ve learned that every five year dalliance with suicide was prevented because of curiosity. I’m still here somehow and if you’re struggling with depression, it gets better. It’s manageable. It’s not perfect and every day is a strange new experience but imagine how much stranger it would be if you didn’t have them.

I learned that Taylor Swift isn’t as bad as she seems if you just listen to the lyrics and realize this girl did more with her afternoon than you have done with your entire summer and that’s why you’re mad at her. Take that aggression and make your own album that people will listen to.

Like Lana DelRey but with more personality.

Listen to people.

I learned that people will talk to a wallflower far faster than they will the social supernova.

I’m a wallflower.

I learned that in 2014.

I learned that I don’t want kids because I don’t want to give them a world that is terrible, cruel and cold. I don’t want them to have a mother who isn’t as cool as mine is.

I learned that I like TV. I like writing and I would like to be paid for it.

I write fan fiction.

Don’t look for it.

you won’t find it.

I ship people who despite everything are still people who shouldn’t be together because somehow I wish that’d TV luck would sprinkle on me.

I learned that even though I miss you, I don’t need you and you’re actually terrible and you’re a fuckface and honestly, you should probably get that checked out.

Sorry.

Was that a subtweet?

Do subtweets count in a long winded blog?

I learned that I look like a girl on TV that people fantasize but when I’m in front of them, they pretend they didn’t see me.

I learned that I collect tattoos because they are pieces of armor to keep me from being hurt, even though they rarely work.

I got a passport.

I got my drivers license.

I learned that I can go anywhere and that I want to just disappear.

I learned I’m too old for any program that will allow that to happen.

I learned that loyalty is only as good as the thing you’re working on.

I met some amazing people, we’ve gotten shitfaced, eaten at great diners and laughed at stupid things. We get along and I swear the high school me admires how brave I am for going outside after dark to drink with good people.

I learned that I like greasy breakfast food.

I learned that I’m a good cook and no one listens to me when I tell them how to make rice because they want me to make it to their exact specifications and giggle because I do it.

I learned that my talents aren’t wasted, they’re just being used for all the wrong things.

I learned that someone will want me for those talents.

Bonus points.

I learned that I could be a rapper but I don’t want whatever the fuck is happening to Iggy Azalea’s career also I’m terrible at rapping.

I learned that telling someone you love them is the most dangerous thing you can do. Telling them repeatedly is basically asking God to strike you dead. Defying God is basically yelling YOLO to the heavens. I do it regularly.

I realized that I spent too much time in 2013 worrying about everything that I was a mess in 2014 and I’m in 2015 wondering if I can make it better.

I realized that there are far more things in the world wrong that there are with me and that’s okay.

I learned that Kanye West put out the best albums of his career without anyone realizing and I hope that he understands that people like me understand people like him because he was smart enough to use his skills.

I learned that I am no a cat.

I am a wolf.

 

Wonder Woman’s Six Scripts

Condensed into one final script.

Using Post Its.

I’m speculating and will probably come up with even worse treatments.

It will feature equal parts forced romcom, awkward political thriller, slow motion and possible wink and nod to how truly awkward it is to shovel 75 years of history into a two hour story.

Opening scene is Diana Prince, love and romance expert, writing a Sex in The City style article for the Daily Planet’s digital edition. She’s average looking. Brown hair pulled into a bun, green eyes, fair skin, a bought off the rack power suit. Has a framed picture of her cat. They want to downplay how good she really is.

Lois Lane is more desirable than she is.

Basically, she’s a swipe to the left on Tinder.

The plot will have to be something fun flirty and slightly dangerous because she will have to have a romantic foil or some kind of reoccurring running gag about her appearance or something that will be vaguely hinted at. Like a less sexy Mr. And Mrs. Smith despite the spandex. They’ll make it so that she’s undateable because she’s strong but someone who’ll run to her rescue is man enough for her. It will be left out that she is a demigod on par with Hercules, that her mother is Queen of the Amazons and her father is Zeus. Or Ares. The audience will pretend that that back story isn’t the same as Xena’s but quietly lament the fact just the same.

No big deal

Some semblance of a spy story, maybe referencing the hot mess that was Batman V Superman: Pectoral Wars where a flashback will remind audiences that Diana/Wonder Woman was even in the damn thing in the first place. Probably the only good part of the entire movie. Explosions, heroic poses, this outfit.

but we’ll probably won’t even get a good explanation for this at all

In covering up, explaining, protecting Superman and Batman (theoretically, Diana’s investigative skills unearthed everything about the super bros in the movie) she’s unearthed a much bigger problem with Lex Luthor, evil evil evil etc something something generic enough to be engaging. The romantic foil will keep reminding Diana she hadn’t fed her cat while they’re in the middle of a daring escape in the invisible jet, which, because it needs to max out the budget, will be visible and have a striking resemblance to the X-Men’s Blackbird but only by like total coincidence.

thank God Bruce had Wonder Dog on standby though

By Act 3, we’ll have to set up that Aquaman is also a Justice Leaguer and is Jason Momoa.

Bless

The solution will be simple and she’ll tell chiseled, unnamed romantic foil that her destiny is with doing daring deeds, feeding her cat and yada yada yada.

The End.