Cliche NYC Moment No.1

I've found that NYC has bipolar tendencies.

Sure, she can welcome you with open arms, but the moment you become just a little too comfortable she will laugh in your face and pull something shady. 

Last night I was forcibly caught in nasty weather, it was the first day of Governors Ball and I spent the entire day in the rain. The journey from the ferry to the subway involved me trekking to the nearest stop while buckets of water came down, and just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, a cab passed by and splashed my ass—TWICE.

This is the moment where you choose to either laugh or weep openly.

Luckily my good spirits are back, so I laughed.  

 

 

#TBT - True Love

Originally Posted April 27, 2010

True Love

Is giving up your very last bite of food to the person you love the most and who can appreciate it just as much—but they don’t take it, because they understand the sacrifice involved in such an offer. It then becomes a battle of courtesy, ending with you consuming the bite you were offering in the first place.

If you don’t get this, then damn, you don’t know what true love is.

"You can take my heart or we can share it like the last slice."

Daydreamer

I am notorious for daydreaming. I have a million different daydream scenarios that randomly pass through my dome at any given moment on any given day. See, I don't need to travel to escape reality (actually—I lie, I do), all I need is a good minute where I can lose focus on the task at hand and drift off into my very own dream world. I've been this way for as long as I can remember.

Please know that my dreams are never "fantasy." I am simple that way. They don't involve impossible locations or ridiculous events that would never happen to me in real life. They are plain and uncomplicated, for the most part to keep my feet on the ground. All the while my head is definitely in the clouds, daydreaming about imaginary men who pay for my coffee before I've even had the chance to order, or who are randomly picking up the same pens as me at Kinokuniya or its a situation as disgustingly easy as just making eye contact with the dude in a Giants fitted across the bar.

Easy enough, right?

I'm just asking for a realistic "meet-cute." I'm not asking that my life be the basis for a romantic comedy, cause we all know I would much rather take the full-on comedy. 

 

Bucket Listed

To attempt to get myself out of this stuuuuuuuupid funk, I am doing what I do best—PLAN. This is separated into a few different categories, cause I'm organized like that. This doesn't include anything I've already done/experienced, and this will constantly evolve...

NY(C)

  • Find the best Old Fashioned (so far Little Branch is winning)
  • Scotch Flight for my 30th birthday
  • WTC Memorial
  • Stare at Monet's "Water Lillies" for 30 straight minutes (again) in the MOMA
  • Ride something shady at Coney Island
  • Catch a Knicks game at MSG
  • Take a train in/out of Grand Central Station
  • Jameson & pickle back (anywhere…)
  • Go home when the sun rises
  • Walk across as many bridges that allow pedestrians
  • Hit up Atlantic City
  • Visit the Hamptons
  • Cooperstown

 

Travel

  • Visit ALL MLB parks & buy a team pin (my old roomie is only 31 and has accomplished this feat. I'm so impressed and jealous that he's already done it.)
  • Scotch tasting in Scotland 
  • Stay in an over-water bungalow in Bora Bora
  • Do the same thing in the Maldives
  • Eat / Pray / Love in Bali
  • Release a paper lantern into the night sky in Thailand
  • Stay in a spot with a bright blue roof in Santorini
  • See the Aurora Borealis in Alaska
  • Visit Christ the Redeemer & beaches of Rio de Janeiro
  • Ride in a gondola in Venice (I'm pissed it was too cheap to do this when I first visited, BUT I was also only 19 y/o.)
  • Chill like Marie Antoinette at the Palace of Versailles (ex-Mr didn't want to leave Paris when we visited, so guess who got assed out? ME.)
  • Eat a brownie in Amsterdam
  • Drive across the Southwest in a RV
  • People watch at a sidewalk cafe in Montreal
  • Visit a lavender field in the French countryside
  • See molten lava at 5 am on the Big Island, HI
  • Go to the airport and take a random flight

 

Restaurants

  • Per Se - NYC
  • French Laundry - Yountville
  • Gary Danko - SF
  • Babbo - NYC
  • Michael Mina - SF
  • Joe's Stone Crab - Miami
  • Peter Luger's - Brooklyn

 

Life

  • Crown tattoo (even though I promised my mom I would stop)
  • Watch Gone with the Wind
  • Learn to drive a stick (hahahahahahah, almost… August/Sept 2012)
  • Make a family tree, legit
  • Send my parents on an all-paid trip
  • Take a fencing lesson
  • Learn to cook Kare Kare
  • Throw a bill down at roulette and be unaffected by the outcome win/lose and walk away
  • Buy a bottle of Ace of Spades
  • Get a shiba inu
  • Write myself a letter and read it 10 years later
  • Make it rain on my future kids and record them grabbing at money
  • Purchase a pair of Red Bottoms, don't act like you wouldn't either... 
  • Make a mixtape/soundtrack of my life

 

to be extended... 

 

Fuck, My life

(Not FML, notice the comma.)

For the past two weeks I've been S.A.F.E. (Trinidad James reference, look it up if you need to). I have been hormonal, homesick and just plain 'ol chemically imbalanced. I hate it. Its always obvious to me when something is off because I'm usually effortlessly positive.

I can pick myself up. like. that.

Lately though? Good luck. I am Debbie Downer on another level. There are a thousand things I can complain / lament / vent about at the moment. 

My no. 1 gripe right now is that I am losing my roomies / room / apartment because our building is kicking us off our floor for renovations. Have I told you I LOVE my roomies / room / apartment? I completely lucked out when I responded to that Craigslist ad back in February. I had no idea I would get attached to any of those three separate entities, let alone all three. Its been comforting to know I had an amazing (unusually large) room in New York City and I could talk to anyone as soon as I walked through the door. My favorite plus is that I had plenty of single-guy perspectives on hand each and every time I needed it.

Yesterday I had to move. The move (upstairs into a different apartment) was pretty painless. The only piece of furniture I needed to move was a mattress and I haven't accumulated much since my initial move. My new room is much smaller and hot-AF. I am not looking forward to spending a month in there (its a temporary housing solution, I have options after June). My problem was not the pain of physically moving things, my beef is the loss of comfort I've had for the past three months. I could spit five other complaints out right now, but I won't…

I feel as though my life is a constant mother fucking transition and I just want it to stop for a minute. For almost an entire year I've been trying to get a grip on my life, sure many of these changes were decisions I made myself, but I've always been terrible with situations I have no control over. I've been trying to adjust this aspect of me and roll with whatever I think is happening in my life for a reason, but then again old habits die hard.

I'm trying to embrace all these new things going on, but really... I just got used to an amazing routine. So I have to adjust again, and I don't feel as if its an improvement to the NY life I've been introduced to... Wack. I'm down as hell. I don't even want to be around people right now because I realize how negative I am coming off. I can't text people without sounding like I'm about to give up on my life. I'm walking around like the only thing I can say is "faaaaaaaaaaaaaa" and I'm sighing after every five minutes.

Bear with me… my sunny disposition will return in no time. 

I hope. Hah.

​

#TBT - Hi Five

I've been documenting my life via diaries, journals, Diaryland, Blogger, Wordpress and now ​Squarespace since 3rd grade. No joke. For the most part I still have the locked Sanrio Diaries (yeah—like Keroppi and shit) and access to immature posts from 2002. So even if you're new to my life / this blog, I've been doing this for a long time.

​I will not share my old urls cause as a whole they can be ridiculously embarrassing, but I will share the relevant and quality posts for Throwback Thursdays.

​

Hi-Five

Originally posted: December 21st, 2010

Note: I’m typing this at the Oakland Airport while I’m on my very-first business-related trip, thats grown business for you. My flight is delayed, and my entire trip is only a matter of 12-hours, but I’m lovin’ this opportunity.

I’ll be completely honest, sometimes I don’t grasp the fact that I’m a fully fledged adult. I get up to go to work, take two modes of public transportation, spend nine hours at my job, then turn back around and go home. There are a few moments during my daily routine where I feel I’m still a kid—playing house, playing grown-up. I have no idea why, I just do.

I’m constantly catching myself trying to remind myself of my reality. Maybe its because time moves so unbelievably fast? It felt like a second ago when I used to daydream of taking a vacation with my man, living in a house that wasn’t run by my parents, and buying $100 shoes. Someday, I always thought… Well folks, that day is here, its been here.

I know I’m not alone in this. I have friends with babies, with mortgages, with real responsibilities—but tell me they don’t feel like they just woke up to their lives overnight? Is it just me?

Who knows.

Hi-fives though. Hi-fives for being where we are and doing what we do, whether it be raisin’ babies or hustlin’ for that paper or extra degree. Hi-five.

​

​

HOME

Home is when your homie gives up his comfy bed and sleeps on his couch, cause your ass is too tired to drive back to your parents house, even though its not that late. 

Home is when one of your boys tries to persuade you to move back to the Bay during a two hour drive, with the most ridiculous rationale but is completely serious at the same damn time.

Home is when your girls drag themselves out to a club, even though they've been out all day and are tired-AF, just because your ass wants to go dance.

Home is when your boy from Sacramento drives down for a night, even though he says he's broke and tells you: "Y'all ball like Jay-Z. I like to keep it on a Memphis Bleek level." But still comes out anyway after a minute of convincing.​

Home is when you roll a dozen deep to a baseball game, cause you're in town and the Giants are your team.

Home is when your girl clears her schedule, so she can spend the day in Napa with you. Even if she has to drop you off in the city and has to deal with driving in traffic by herself all the way back to the South Bay during rush hour.

Home is when you meet up with your former boss and she has a cheetah print dress for you, which she bought months ago, cause she saw it and knew you needed it.

Home is when your best friend spends your entire last night with you in Milpitas, up until you have to wake your ass up at 6am to go to the airport. Then has to take BART cause he lives/works in the city. 

​Don't think I don't notice the love you show me.

No worries though, folks... NY is only temporary. The Bay is permanent, just give me a little longer and I'll never leave again. I already know.

​

Guilty-AF No.2

  • I consumed alcohol this past Tuesday / Thursday / Friday / Saturday / Sunday. For each instance I've reached a good level 7 as far as the buzz scale goes, although yesterday I only hit a 5. I know my limits. 
  • On Thursday I caught myself professing the following statement: "I'm pretty sure everything about me is healthy—except my liver." I will calm my ass down, maybe in October when the good weather is over.
  • *Omitted* #WC reference, you know what this means.
  • There have been a few times when I've come home after a long day out, have already eaten dinner and my two gay roomies offer to feed me. Truth—they're fucking amazing cooks, and I know some men who can put in work in the kitchen. These two, they're naturals. I happily oblige. HAPPILY. Second dinner? GUILTY-AS-FUCK.
  • My name is "Krystal" when I'm not feelin' a guy hitting on me. "I'm only visiting NY from CA and I got a man at home." That's my default story. Down pat.
  • I signed up for three online dating sites (only the free ones) this past Monday. I deleted all my accounts after only three days. Shit was terrifying… I think I'll keep trying in real life for now.
  • I would rather read Buzzfeed, catch up with my Giants, chat with my homies back home, etc. than take my lunch into the kitchen and socialize like a proper person. Its bad. I wish I could rationalize eating at an actual table instead on top of my Wacom tablet in front of my monitor, but I can't. I should have more friends at work, but because I am anti-soc in this sense, I am lacking. HOWEVER—when they invite me to HH, I'm there. Bwahaha. Of course I would be.

 

Fall in Like

I feel as though I have a million blog drafts right now based on dating, how I suck at it, how I don't need a man right now—yet I can't get off the subject, what I want in the next guy and yadda yadda yadda…

Real talk tho...

I just want to "fall in like." Please.

I want to feel butterflies again. I want to get a stupid grin on my face from an amazing text message. I want to be hollered at—on my level. I want a guy to throw a J.Cole or Wale line at me, they share a million between them, I can show you (some other time). Or better yet, an obscure Drake line, cause that is my ultimate poison—it always has been.

I want to pick out an outfit that makes him look down, then up and down again. I want to laugh at jokes straight from the pit of my stomach. I want to make someone else laugh. I want to show off the fact that I'm basically a dude with a vagina, complete with MAC lipstick, Marc Jacobs "Dot'" perfume and TopShop heels, but ordering Laphroaig 18 on the rocks.

Can I mention the butterflies again?

The butterflies.

There is no drug in the world, over-the-counter or illegal, that can mimic the biological chemistry behind "butterflies." You never expect them either, they just show up one day, and FUCK—magically you are "in like." Its as if you put on sunglasses and the entire world is seen in a new filter, slightly more vibrant and that much brighter. Everything gets exciting again, a simple text, hello/goodbye hugs and even the absolute slightest brushes at random physical contact.

The hand on the small of the back?

Fuck. Don't get me started. Its electrifying when the butterflies are there.

So as much as I look forward to the day I fall in love again, for now… I just want to fall in like.

Problem is—I think I already have, but its an impossible situation to pursue and the cards are not in my favor. So I brush it off whenever the feeling hits, cause although I'm enjoying the momentary euphoria, I'm pretty sure I'm just making it all up in my head.  I'm sweeping it all under a rug and killing anything that resembles a flying insect in my stomach, butterfly or not—in this particular instance, I can't be having those.

​

​

Today

Today is the worst day I've had since moving here.

Today he turned 30 years old. 

I have spent every birthday with him from the time he turned 18 up until last year. I no longer have any real reason to be around to celebrate with him. My time has passed. Our time has passed.

I'm usually strong as fuck, but today—I'm going to grant myself a hall pass. I've been a trooper since shit hit the fan, and as much as I will never admit it out loud, my heart is still fucking broken and in the process of healing itself. And even though I'm wise enough to know that he fucked up a beautiful thing known as our marriage—he was the one person who knew me inside and out and the very best friend I've ever had.

Its fine. I accept where we are and where we're headed individually.

But today…

Its real, cause I always thought I would be there to celebrate with him—to thank God and his parents for creating him, like previous years.

I always thought I'd plan this elaborate birthday, surprise him with some type of bo$$ watch and close out an entire bar.

Not this.

Not me bawling my fucking eyes out with reality slapping me in the face. 

He's over there. I'm over here. We're divorcing—as if my move to NY wasn't confirmation enough that we were going down separate roads, him celebrating his 30th birthday without me is the last nail on the coffin. Actually—I take that back. I still have to get past July 7th, of which I hope to be hiding out in a cave away from the world.

But its all good. I'm still trusting our individual struggles and paths, cause we're meant to go down these roads for a reason. Que sera sera.

P.S. Just to show you that I'm ok, here's a quick anecdote of me making fun of myself: Instead of drowning my sorrows with whiskey after work, I decided to take a long walk home. I randomly passed by an ice cream shop and thought it would be an excellent idea to consume my feelings by eating dessert before dinner. The ice cream showed to be a useful distraction until I finished it, fifteen minutes later. Then I got my ass Popeyes cause I needed to eat more feelings. And none of this shit worked because after I completed dinner I really felt like shit and proceeded to cry like an emotional wreck for an hour+. And here i am now blogging for all to read.