What I Learned: August 21

This week, I get my cowgirl on (not in that way) and wrangle up some coworkers for micro tour of New York, get some damn fine barbecue in Brooklyn and discover that the joys of running and gunning is only as good as the subject you’re shooting.

Monday:

Starts with a groan since I’m convinced I overslept and continues with a WHAT THE FAK as the trains decide, ‘girl, you’re not going to go no place on time today’ I arrive to one of the cooler venues to shoot in, The YouTube Studios and do my very best to not cartwheel all around the place. (I can’t do cartwheels so it’s fairly easy to do) I’ve booked a guy who’s basically the shrunken stocky version of John Lequizamo as our driver for the day and that basically means, you’re gonna have a good time.

We’ve packed in all the talent into one studio space and they’re basically the goofiest group of mixed gender kids that I’ve encountered. It’s like S Club 7 without the British accents…sigh…I miss SC7.

I’ve no idea what happened to them (this is also not my group)

We pile into a fifteen passenger van like a bunch of exhausted school kids and head off to a space in Brooklyn that’s covered in artwork, some of which is related to the group that I’m working on my first production documentary on. It’s kinda magical how all of these lives and strings start threading together the way they have. From there, we shuttle to another place that’s lowkey nice and do another round of photos and some people do some power napping.

For someone who theoretically had 8 hours of sleep and is currently running on hour 12 by the time we wrap, I’m feeling ok.

I’m also off the next two days and when you have that kind of luck, you really wanna go all out y’know?

We wind up at Mabels for dinner and have a massive family style barbecue sitdown where I discover that I have serious maternal issues; I kept making sure everyone was eating, watered and taken care of before shoveling atleast a pound of various meats in my face. (Pause)

It should be mentioned that I wound up squaring up various bills and tabs, signing off on various pieces of paper and getting a free shot of whisky because I took care of our one bartender and the manager was super delighted with my automatic running around like a chicken with my head cut off tendencies.

There’s still tons of food left and I’m EXACTLY the type of person to ask for doggy bags and boxes. I ultimately pack up two large boxes of ribs, pulled pork, cole slaw, mac and cheese and some potatoes. I SAT ON THE TRAIN ON MY WAY HOME LIKE A BOSS with my food because…

Why not?

Tuesday:

I stay home, eat some leftovers with mom and process the paperwork from the night before. I am nothing if not completely obsessive and slightly workaholical. I go to the gym for once and manage to impress myself by not being too winded or flabby. I am however, exhausted and cut it short. I go home and get into a text talk with Waffle and it sounds like dinner was going to happen but I fall asleep for four hours and wake up to a ‘I’m going to work, talk to you later text’

you used to call me on my cell phone

Wednesday:

I decide today’s the day that I’m going to treat myself and I wind up going to the movies…and comic books. BUT FIRST. Let me look like a human female and get my eyebrows done. I wind up on Union Square, fraught with memories because I brought Waffle there all the time and it always sucks to do something when you know it’s much more fun with someone else. I go see Ant-Man which is pretty funny and enjoyable and for god’s sake would you look at Hayley Motherfuckin Atwell as Agent Carter in 1989.

stop being so awesome you savage

If I may…

Hayley Atwell is one of those people that’s just naturally charming and strange enough to make you wonder why God would be so cruel as to make a person witty, generous and hot. I mean there are goddesses and there’s this woman.

Shakin my head.

Anyways. I wind up not buying any comic books (I get them through Comixology) and pick up a Doctor Strange shirt because let’s face it, this guy is the gnarliest of the Marvel superheroes because he’s basically a creep magician.

I like that shit.

Thursday:

Did you know the thirst for Yeezy Boosts is real?

Did you know that raffle contests are the cause of passion and dedication?

Did you know that I spent five hours in the middle of a heatwave working on an internet banger?

The more you know.

The fun part of it was both of us were walking around looking for Adidas sneakers in Nike kicks.

I’m no hype beast but I gotta tell you, them kids are dedicated and for a moment, I almost caught the fever.

i need to go the gym. seriously.

When I get back, I get info on another shoot tomorrow afternoon. It’s in Connecticut with a major sneaker designer…and Nikki Bella.

Friday:

So this is where the week felt like a lifetime of experiences in one day. I start super early because, like I said, my personal life is a mess and I’m late to places but my professional life is as close to decent and timely as possible. At the start of the afternoon I’m told “It’s a Chevy Tahoe.”

I’m 5’7.

I’m not a Tahoe sized person.

I started to call myself an Uber

We load in for a fun-filled road trip to CT, where the app Waze (I’ve named her Laura) gets us from NYC to location and we spend time in a sneaker head’s fantasy.

I also take a rare selfie and hold the Diva’s championship belt while wearing a Xena shirt.

THE DIVAS’ BELT

DIVAS

BELT

XENA
SHIRT.

Video’s coming soon.

I may have also missed on an opportunity to go to SummerSlam.

*sobbing*

I get back to the city, swap gear and prepare for the next day: the Billboard Hot 100 Fest.

In. Jones. Beach.

There are times where I feel like I can do anything and other times where I’m like, ‘shit shit shit’ and just go with it. These are the times where I’m glad to be where I am and even more impressed that I’ve done what I have done in what feels like a matter of seconds. I have a hard time processing things because I unpack but the real take away is that I’ve really achieved something that borders on insane.

I spent a lot of time watching TV with strong characters and want badly to be like them because I’m just that kind of girl. I pulled a lot of inspiration and strength from them because they were role models that I needed and still need. I have to know that what I’m doing matters; what I’ve accomplished is important and that I’ve been delivering on what I’ve been tasked to do. I’ve been told I’m a warrior, I feel like I fight a dozen wars and I want to make this life truly something impressive. I just want to feel like I’ve done something and as of late, I’ve been scratching at that.

I just want to ease the anxiety and accept things for what they are.

Wondrously strange collection of experiences.

Maybe it’s not such a bad thing.

What I Learned: August 14

This week, I spend time in Tarrytown in a rental car listening to trap music, complete the lap that made me almost weep, learn that technology is not your friend and that being a workaholic is a better substitute for alcohol.

Saturday:

I’m up with the birds and armed with Apple Maps (which, fuck you by the way) I climb into rented Ford Focus and feel like I’m in a jet because I’m doing checks like a pilot. I have about 120,000 songs on an iPod and wind up listening to of all things…Fall Out Boy. Don’t judge me, it beat the radio at 7am.

It’s true what they say about driving, your mind completely blanks out and you focus more on piloting a massive machine through highways built years before you were a thought by people who didn’t think those roads would even be traveled for as long as they have been.

You get super philosophical.

I find parking relatively easy at 7:30am (I was in traffic to boot and DIDN’T drag race once it cleared up…) and run upstairs to make sure that everything is where it’s supposed to be. Again. My personal life, total shitshow, professional life sorta put together.

The team shows up and we load in for our epic journey to the most magical place on earth: the MSG Training Center in Tarrytown NY. While on the way, we encounter the fail that is Apple Maps.

Have you ever driven in near circles in the middle of a scenic part of a town and immediately think, we’re a car full of minorities, isn’t this is how horror movies start?

drive faster

I watch too many movies.

Anyways. We make a few turns and wind up where we’re supposed to be…fuck you Apple Maps…sincerely.

I’m about 5’7 which in the WNBA makes me a guard and probably a decent prospect; in the NBA that makes me the water girl. We arrive and check in and walk into the Liberty side of the basketball court.

I’m not gonna lie, I’ve been there before but I still kinda swoon because that’s what I do.

We land some hilarious interviews and shoot what could be the hit of our mini summer vacation.

We climb back into the car, strangely inspired by the entire day (it was two hours that felt like less than that which is saying something) get 5 Napkin Burgers (which is a miracle) and pile into the office for a late shift.

Sunday:

Even if you want to play a game of treat yo self, you still wind up being incredibly responsible and climb into the fray super early and with a box of bagels for your mom. You also want nothing more than to get another win in terms of getting that date to happen.

The date doesn’t happen.

The sobbing continues.

On the upside, we get two great videos lined up and good to go and I land another byline for work.

I learned that I have to master the art of multitasking.

Also. John Wick is awesome.

Adrienne Palicki, Bridget Reagan and Keanu Reeves carrying guns and being complete assholes. this is basically porn.

Monday:

Screaming matches over stupid things are always fun.

Driving around late at night is even more fun.

I tackled the FDR to the West Side Highway and like a superhero, sat and listened to Kid Cudi wondering about what the hell life is doing with me and my fate these days. I miss the opportunity to get Waffle for a drive around because Waffle being Waffle kept being Waffle and wiffled on me. I was tempted to be a creeper and sit in the car outside waiting but decided that I can’t keep reeking of desperation. The fact that Waffle would’ve gotten in the car with me for fun while I said nothing and blasted music and driven around until drop off at work. These are the things that make me feel all kinds of funny to be honest. I learned that I should just trust my lack of impulse control when it comes to these kinds of situations. Especially when I want to share views like this. IMG_2932

My drive looked nothing like this but I did in fact blast Steve Aoki, so I guess you could say, we were on track.

Tuesday:

So I had rum and cokes.

Wednesday:

Multitasking is multi-taxing but it’s done and honestly, I keep telling myself, I was unemployed last year. Stop bitching so fucking much.

I mean it’s one thing to be overwhelmed and completely burned out but it’s a whole other level if you’re completely like…miserable.

I can’t be miserable.

My brain can’t process that correctly.

My brain shorts out actually.

I know I’m due for a meltdown but I’m also due for an upgrade so I guess you have to burn things down to build something new from it.

I wind up in Jim Hanley’s Universe and have rather interesting conversations about some of the plot fuck ups in X-Factor (which I have admittedly not been keeping up with) but apparently, it’s a big nasty soap opera. I love the fact that out of many of the shops that I’ve been to, this is the only one that actively keeps you in the store with shit talk and comic gossip rather than aisle after aisle of things to look at and maybe consider buying. There’s a strange comfort in the nerd herd. Unsurprisingly, I pick up a bunch of titles that will take me until NEXT WEEK, to read but fuck it, I mean it’s what happens when you work; you get to do things you love.

One day I will write and work for Marvel.

It’s on the list of things to do before I die.

So’s a trip to London.

Fuck it, let’s do both.

Thursday:

Accomplished many a thing, including successfully feeding myself at a decent hour, addressing stuff and things and planning planning planning.

I wound up getting a preview screening pass to see Straight Outta Compton through work which was sweet. It’s insane that all this happened in my lifetime and I’ve basically grown up with this music; I lived through the of many anti-establishment movements fueled by music and made by people who just wanted their voices heard and the vision to just make shit happen. That doesn’t work anymore does it? That unyielding sense of success and self confidence that is needed to take what sounds like a failing idea or a longshot and make it actually happen. Think about it. Ice Cube was the hardest rapper in the game (still is) at the time and just transitioned because he just wanted to do it. Dre just wanted to make music that didn’t suck and E just had the momentum to bring everyone together. It’s probably one of the best made music biopics and some of the moments that happen made me oddly nostalgic for the time where my mom said I couldn’t listen to Metallica, NWA, Public Enemy and when she caught on, The Beastie Boys. Kids aren’t told ‘that’s bad for you’ and if they are, they don’t give a flying fuck. Go see it, it’s worth it.

It’s also creepy how damn near EXACT O’Shea Jackson Jr. resembles his father.

Best cosplay ever.

Friday:

For Whom The Bell Tolls indeed.

In on time despite a late start, doing a bunch of things for the next three days and eagerly anticipating…I dunno…a small moment to think, read a comic book and do more writing because I owe some people some of my letters rearranged into words.

Friday:

I had a salad. That’s not interesting until you realize and understand that my fat ass wants a burger and booze and to be left alone with Waffle on a romantic dinner date where all we do is talk shit and laugh at things.

I’m seeking a gal pal at this point.

An Angie to my  Peggy.

A Sandy to my Danny.

A Laura to my Carmilla.

Basically I’m just rehashing old feelings.

The weekend should be spectacular. Stay tuned.

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.

What I Learned: Aug 7

This week, I rent a car and drive away from everything (for work), I watch Ronda Rousey beat the hell out of some shit talker in 34 seconds which is my own personal goal, and I go for the record in avoiding doing the same thing over and over again.

Saturday: MOTHERFUCKING RONDA ROUSEY.

My godmother is a fight nut. We like fights. So after work I trotted uptown (ironically wearing my Mockingjay shirt to a place called District 12) We grub on tasty motherfucking burgers and have lots of Honey Jack and Ginger while enduring under card after undercard bouts. They were really good but like pro wrestling, we could see the win coming because you know, my godmother and I are also pro fighters…

The bar filled up around 11 and the crowd and energy was insane. Everyone staring up at the screens, reacting to the fights before finally the main event.

The fun thing for me is that the main event was proceeded by a rematch from another main event fight (co-main event undercard) Rua and Minatauro. THESE DUDES BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF EACH OTHER BEFORE THE MAIN EVENT: A WOMAN’S MATCH.

In any case, the pageantry is there; the lights the music and the non stop drunken yelling it’s what you’d imagine being in a lower coliseum was like. Bethe entered to cheers from her native Brazilians while in the bar, everyone was booing. Rousey walks in and you’d swear the woman just bought another round for everyone in house.

The fight is over before my drink is.

34 seconds.

You know what goes 0-100 in 34 seconds.

Ronda Rousey.

After the trouncing, she mutters, “Don’t cry” to Bethe who’d been mocking her the entire week leading to the fight, yelling in Portuguese, I will make you cry. The only crying Rousey did was at the thought of the well earned chicken wings and holding the belt in honor of Roddy Pipper.

I need to get back to the gym.

Sunday: I landed a byline about something that made me lose my mind.

Like seriously, Drake, you’re basically holding Meek Mill’s hand and telling him stop hitting yourself.

I also found out a guy I used to work with died in a freak accident swimming out in Long Island. I know alot of mutuals who were upset by it (obviously they continued working with him when I left) but I’m stuck on something that really irks me. He was told numerous times to not go out into the water, there had been serious riptides and currents, the lifeguards were off duty when he and a friend decided to go back in. His friend was rescued but they found his body an hour after he went under.  It’s sad honestly, he was 23.

Monday: Mom has her follow up procedure for her robot part. I drive around running errands for mom, we go to a spanish spot that used to be Puerto Rican but is now Dominican and once again, I raise my fists to the heavens and ask “WHERE ARE ALL THE PUERTO RICANS ?!”

My close friend spends most of the afternoon randomly texting me; he’s engaged and is extremely worried about me. He encourages me to pack my shit and run off to join the circus. I’m considering it. It’d be really good to finally just have an adventure instead of these random collections of strange circumstances that happen to me. New York is great, there’s something about it that makes you feel like everything and anything can happen here but I’m sick of it. The people, the sameness, the fact that everywhere I turn I see fragments of my past lives all milling about. I’m always close to falling apart and somehow haven’t in a long time *knock on wood* but I can feel it in the air. The need to just do something drastic just to break up the monotony and the feeling of not actually doing anything when in reality I am; I’m doing so much, much more than I thought I’d be able to do. I’m going to keep it 1000000% My mom is retired, she had to because of the health issues that started up about a year and a half ago. the income lands on me and I can’t afford to have one of those grand adventures I hear so many of my peers raving about.

It’s nice to dream though.

who the fuck’s leg is that in the backseat though?!

Tuesday: I’m in to work first and I don’t remember when the last time was that I left work super early; I tell myself ‘you’re going to the gym!’ you know what happened? I get home, flop down fully dressed in bed and sleep four three hours. My mom thought it was hilarious. I DID do the home gym thing so, it wasn’t a total loss but sigh. I’m gonna have to cancel that membership soon; lootcrate is about the same price and I get way more out of it. Sleep is so important its not even funny. I’ve actually growled at people who’ve woken me up too early. 

Wednesday: Mom has her appointment. So they tell her that she’s got a solid robot ticker, her pace is good and she has to lose weight. I run deliveries like a boss, make someone’s day better and have pizza with mom for dinner. Yes, I know, it’s immediately after they said she has to lose weight but we’re going to start that…after the pizza party.

It’ll be helpful too because if we’re both focused on something other than the lack of sleep and depression and stress, we can make big things happen because I’m honestly tired of feeling like shit, eating like I’m dumpster and my self esteem being set to fail all the time.

I do really cool things damnit!

I buy a shit-ton of comic books from Jim Hanley’s Universe, effectively cheating on Forbidden Planet, St. Mark’s Comics and Midtown Comics. I have to slow down, I’m running out of room and I don’t know how many books I can lug around come New York Comic Con. It does effectively distract me from thinking about Waffle….until I stare at The Walking Dead and then I’m like, I know no one who’d be into this…then it’s a sad spiral.

Thursday: First one in again and I think I see tumbleweeds.

then lightening strikes.

default emotion

default emotion

This time last year, I was preparing to wear all black in the US Open, stand for an obscene amount of hours and stare at the raw power that is Serena Williams while she practiced serving 100 mile and hour slams. It’s crazy how time and sweat can make things happen.

Like a droplet just working on a rock can create the Grand Canyon.

also.

Chinese water torture makes a soft spot in the skull.

too much?

Friday: The level of excite for a minor roadtrip is kind of embarrassing. I guess this has been a weird and wild ass summer eh?

What I Learned: July 3rd

This week, we travel to NYC Pride 2015, Brooklyn to a Basquiat exhibit and a bar where my useless knowledge got me free booze!

Saturday: Murakai x Vans launch.

I’ve never been to Barney’s. I’ve lived here my whole life and I have never set foot in any one of the high end stores on Fifth Avenue (except Tiffany’s and even that was weird) So when I found out there was a launch with an artist I admire and a sneaker I like to wear I wanted in.

I also forgot that this was the same day as the Kanye West Yeezy Boost 350 release.

And the launch of the Shattered backboard high dunk.

I work in an industry that requires me to remember that and still somehow managed to forget it. Go figure. I had a camera on me to boot. SO. I’m there, with a camera and a fucking double sneaker launch and I didn’t have a crew or the sense to film any of it.

It’s not a roshe run. promise

Vans x Murakami and they don’t come in women’s sizes. the fuck

Halloween special amirite?

I don’t do sneaker launches to be honest but I wanted those damned vans. SO. I went. First of all, kids are strange, the flip culture is bizarre and the wildest part are the grown men who’s wads of cash are clutched in their fists while they wait around for a pair of sneakers they hope to flip into bigger profits. I had a kid tell me he bought his $200 Yeezys and flipped them immediately for $1200. On. Sight. The guy with the cash basically said, ‘say no more’ and immediately bought them before it could be a missed opportunity. Look at the sneaker. They’re basically the Nike Roshe run (an equally meh sneaker but I have a pair in blue suede that I didn’t spend a shit ton of money on) with Kanye’s nickname on it.

In any case.

I didn’t get the Vans, they were only apparently available in men’s sizes and the smallest size, (once I landed at the register) was 8.

REALLY?!

First world issues aside, work flies by and I’m out on time. I have no idea what to do with myself on days like that.

Sunday:

My fat trap and need to be a contributing member of the production society got me in the middle of Christopher Street on Sunday with my small crew covering the Pride festival. It was decidedly eye opening and for my most recent foray into the world of serious producing, not bad.

http://www.complex.com/pop-culture/2015/06/new-york-city-pride-man-on-the-street-video

Monday: Honestly? I can’t even remember Monday. I’m fairly certain I did something pretty decent, I didn’t flail and crying in the corner. nope. Oh. Wait. I ACTUALLY HAD THE DAY OFF…but I spent it planning and plotting. I wound up in a bar on Bleeker Street conveniently named Bleeker Street Bar where, whist wearing my team USA soccer jersey, I failed to watch the actual match because of course I didn’t watch it. I basically allowed my terrible joke appreciating, movie knowing self get me into trouble. I devour the ever-loving shit out of a Baconator from Wendy’s and a spicy wrap, hate buy stuff from Strand and wind up at home before 10pm.

Tuesday: More of the same. A day off. Which is welcome despite my past track record. I did stuff for work but honestly? I’m kinda in a terrible place where I’m like, ‘girl, you need to fix your life but OMG this pizza’

Wednesday: I’m in Brooklyn for work and it’s awesome. I meet Bilal (who is delightful) set up an interview in a tough to get into exhibit (Basquiat: The Lost Notebooks) take a foxy as fuck picture of the KAWS statue in the lobby and basically marvel at my ability to adapt. This must be what it feels like to be a ghost. I leave late, walk all the way over to a comic shop I know is still open (and isn’t Midtown Comics) and buy a shit ton of books I’m far behind on.

Thursday: FIRE SALE EVERYTHING MUST LAUNCH. THERE IS FREE PIZZA AND IT’S DELICIOUS. I send back something I bought for Waffle because it was awkward when I said that I had it and then I wound up feeling like an idiot. I spend most of the late evening in the office where I wrap out work, watch Team America World Police (America FUCK YEAH) and am handed a peace offering of a Cuba cigar. It’s delightful because I just don’t get anything and there it is.

Friday: I drive mom around which is amazing considering a week ago, she had a pacemaker set into her chest. We go to Target where I basically dismantle their (still ingrained in me) system and wind up saving about $5 bucks courtesy of all the coupons I hoard. I’m supposed to go to my brother’s but I have more work to do (super blessing) and wind up at the liquor store, uncarded buying Jack Daniels Whiskey Rye Mash, do more work and wrap out by 10pm. I drink sour mash rye whiskey and hate watch a rom-com called Two Night Stand with the adorable Miles Teller while wondering why two full day have passed since Waffle text me and I contemplate the feelings of absolute aloneness I am combating. I buy $100 worth of groceries (booty not eaten) and wonder what it is I’m doing with myself. I’m doing big things I guess which absolutely beats the bullshit jobs I was running a year ago.

I admit I have a hustler’s mentality, a gambler’s heart and a drunk’s luck.

I’m a strange barrel of fun.

What I Learned This Week: June 26

This week, we discover that marathon weeks are for people who are actually in marathons, I can multitask and people are just strange strange mammals.

Saturday: I’m at work, attempting to not lose my mind as the elevators don’t work properly. Sure, simple solution, let’s just see if we can get a break and a low key weekend. “We’re fixing them, they’re fixed, there’s also the freight elevators, don’t worry, everything is awesome” We knock out the job and I spend the evening talking to a guy who’s a freelancer and looks like Schmidt from “New Girl” It’s not a thing. He’s also baffled by my age. Which is bafflng. Why am I using the word baffling?! I don’t really get a chance to talk to Waffle either. BUT I do manage to knock out the side project well. So. Guess things are good.

Digital woes

Sunday:

I’m amazed I’m even standing upright as I have to book a project for Thursday that entails my calling everyone I’ve worked with and asking, ‘aye, you wanna work with me.’ It’s also a weird day because I don’t know what I’m doing again. I’m also covering for the LA team which meant that I was basically running home to upload work for the left coast and make it as seamless as possible.

Monday:

Is the day that followed Sunday. I have no recollection of what I did. I’m assuming it was amazing as I have a job and I’m liked. Mom’s surgery approaches. It’s kinda shitty.

Tuesday:

Waffle texts me so it might as well have been a message from God about where we stand. I can’t stop grinning. I handle a few things, fumble a bit, am a totally messed up pile of goo about it but shovel a Rice Krispy treat down my face hole because that’s just the kind of fatass I am. I have a donut when Waffle shows up. We get Shake Shack, we eat across from Trill after she gets a tattoo.  It’s disgusting how enamored I am.

Oh and I did this thing: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ze8uWjOs2Eo

Wednesday:

No rest for the wicked. Plan out and execute for things with the second shoot. Mom is also going in for surgery. Haven’t been sleeping well and am extremely tired, baggy faced and flabby. This is the grossest I’ve felt in the longest. I shovel pizza in my face, knock out things and run back home. Mom is okay. She’s tired but y’know that’s life innit? We’re all tired.

Thursday:

The shoot is basically an amalgamation of all my worlds at once. The smart fast capable PA who knows more than the Production Manager (me) on a block where I used to work for three years with a guy who hired me who’s basically co-signed my work. I’m the convergence. All of me has collided into one me like a creep Voltron or something. I’m proud of myself. I made it work. I’m working and while I’m tired, it’s better than the downward spiral I was heading down. I guess that’s pretty cool. I also bought sneakers because wearing shoes or hard bottoms is just not normal. They’re cozy and I’ve let the world dominate my closet.

Friday:

The Supreme Justice says gay marriage is legal across all 50 states.

You gays.

I mean guys.

THIS IS HUGER THAN ANYTHING I’VE WRITTEN.

What I Learned This Week: June 19th

SO.

I’m trying this new thing where instead of being a whining bitch pants, I’m going to increase the peace and up my moral fiber and also, try to cheer up other people up and practice my word count.

It is in that grand spirit of giving that I present:

WHAT I LEARNED THIS WEEK.

so.

Here’s what I learned.

Saturday: Work. It’s my birthday. Waffle didn’t call and I basically had a meltdown. There was an apology and that was cool but still y’know? I’m one of those “plan for everything and everyone and I love you so yeah” kind of people. Had solo solo whisky and a slice of bacon pizza. Wondering why I’m fat.

Sunday: Work. Yelled at Game of Thrones like everyone else.

Monday: Honey Jack and Ginger, pernil and a late birthday cake can really cheer up a pleighgurl.

birdman money

Tuesday: Sitting on my ass answering emails for work is not the way to spend your two days off BUT it also shows the hustlers ambition, gumption and a desire to understand what’s going on when I’m not there. It’s a new job and I’m extremely nervous about being able to succeed in it given that it’s basically the holy grail of positions in the digital world. I mean it. It’s the actual promised land and it’s a place that I wound up falling into by plucky gumption. So. The anxiety is worth it. it’s not welcome and I need to get rid of it ASAP but yeah. you know, that’s just the way things are at the moment.

Wednesday: So apparently I’m capable of more than I thought. Work is a blur but I land a few crucial pieces for projects. I don’t even know what I did. I finished by tenth or twentieth re-read of “The Catcher in The Rye” because when you feel hella weird, you have to do the extra and remind yourself that everyone goes through this.

Thursday: I met Jidenna and produced a segment for work. I’ll share it, promise.

(yes he does look that good in person)

Went to make up birthday dinner with Waffle where I awkwardly stared across the plate of hot wings and fries I was enjoying with little heart eye emojis while doing that terrible thing where I just don’t know how to shut up. It’s funny because when it’s easy it’s super easy, when you want it to be casual as fuck, you basically wind up fucking up spectacularly. I’m honestly saddened by how utterly uncool I am. I wind up going home, texting like a madwoman, apologizing and saying even more profoundly romantic things to someone who isn’t really understanding where it’s coming from.

I also tracked down a valuable piece of gear in a decent time. I was kinda proud of that too. Go figure, I’m the Olivia Pope of stuff and things.

Friday: Pizza party followed by ice cream for a departing member of the team. I only hope to be as well liked and remembered as this guy is. It sort of cheered me up after spending most of the morning in near tears while Waffle and I exchanged text messages that basically was cribbed dialogue from every romantic movie ever. Mostly me digitally text begging for that shot…the one that always comes to someone in the movies but life isn’t like that, much as I want it to be. I am, never the less, embarrassingly hopeful because I’ve basically asked the universe for simple favors and this is the one that I’ve been holding my breath on and putting all the energy towards.

the power of Swizzle compels you.

Let me know what you think. I’m going to keep doing this because its interesting and dammit, that word count!