Something that made me extremely frustrated in 2017, which I swore I would not continue – and did- in 2018 was that I began to play life very safe as someone I did not recognize. If you followed the previous blog, you know prior to my NYC move, I lived out in the middle of Long Island after moving from Rhode Island (which socially and demographically is not that far off from one another) and almost began to wither away into this small scare person.

I lived life out-motherfucking-loud for so long that being comfortable was uncomfortable. And to be fair, I think the adjustment from College to Professional life may have made me assume that this is what needed to be done, but for 2019 all i’m saying is Fuck That Noise.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned is that I should never place the safe card and when I go, go hard. Meaning, you have to take on this perspective that things are temporary – this is where I would roll my eyes if I were you reading because my mom said this to me in high school all.the.time and it was annoying. But hear me out:

• Any action you take in the day is only taken within 24 hours
• As far as money goes, money is made to be spent. That’s literally is it’s prime purpose
• If you do not say anything, no one will know what’s on your mind and you may be doing something to make someone else feel comfortable while you’re restricted
• It is not your job to take up the least amount of room in life or to make yourself small so others can feel big. There’s being courteous and then there’s being ‘taking advantage of’ courteous
• You have the same amount of time in a day as everyone else, this includes Beyonce

And my favorite one:

• If it’s not going to effect your life in 5 years, don’t pay more than 5 minutes on it

Now, with all this said, I’m not advising you to rob a bank or do unethical heinous things. I’m just saying that, you’re allowed to live life and to have wins and to have mistakes. You’re human made up of thoughts, dreams, experiences good and bad, and this hidden/unhidden optimism that things will always look different tomorrow. And yes, today may suck, and yes tomorrow may suck – but if you can shift your perspective to seeing the the good – the universe, or god, or energy, or however you want to look at it rolls out the red carpet for you.

Shift your perspective to this:

If I take this job, do I have more to risk taking it or not taking it?

If I move tens/hundreds/thousands of miles from how, do I have more to risk taking it or not?

If I send this text, is there more to lose not sending it for *myself* than sending it?

And trust me, the job may not work out, the move may not be worth it, and that text could stir up some shit – but see the lesson that it shows; and better yet, what if it does work out? My friends and I had a saying growing up to make good decisions or good stories. Sometimes they are one in the same, but sometimes, maybe just maybe, thing can work out. And if they don’t, it’s not about the times you fall down, but the times you get back up. I mean, shit, that’s way they call it growing up; you’re suppose to fall down so hard you smack your head on the pavement. But, you have to keep going.

Again, I can almost feel your eyes rolling from the other side of my internet connection. And believe me I HEAR YOU. My ass moved from RI to NY in a week for a job that I thought, and still think, I had more to risk not taking it than taking it. I’ve moved hundreds (not thousands because ya girl is not ready for that, but Isis moved fucking continents so she can tell you more about that here (CLICK ME) ) and I’ve sent that risky text….last night…which was read without response…WHICH IS FINE! Why? Because the possibilities of doors that can and will open later are endless!

So 2019, in the words of a show that inspired this blog in 2018:

I expect you to have adventures.
I expect you to fall in love; to get your hearts broken.
I expect you to have sex with the wrong people.
To have sex with the right people.
To make mistakes & make amends.
Take a leap & make a splash.
And I expect you to unleash holy hell on anyone who tries to hold you back!

Happy Holidays xx

Tinder, Bumble, Hinge, Hot or Not, Match, Plenty of Fish, eHarmony, Zoosk. I don’t even know if any dating applications (outside of the first three) actually exist still or I’m in some type of Mandela Effect. Similarly to how I remember Curious George with a tail when he apparently doesn’t, when I know for a fucking fact he did.

Not only have these types of applications forced this artificial chemistry to occur due to seeing all information up front, constantly being in communications with each other, and having this fucked up validation that having a match gives you.

Don’t get me wrong, I have Bumble on my phone as we speak. And as previously mentioned, I get a high out of getting a good looking match like everyone else does. But here are some thing I will absolutely stop swiping right on because I’m tired of what these apps are creating:

1. Hook-up Culture
   I want to know who created this and where they are because we’re about to throw hands. Don’t get me wrong, sex isn’t what I’m mad about. I’m pretty sure everyone likes sex and I don’t want anyone reading this to get it twisted. What I’m referring to is this culture that makes having any kind of commitment taboo. As if moving too fast is terrible. Trust me, I want to be cautious of my heart too, but if we’re seeing each other for more then three months without seeing other people yet still don’t want to classify it as something else then can ya let me know? Unless your ex is going to come back four and half months pregnant; that’s another story and if that’s the case just end the connection altogether.
2. This need to be in constant communication with the other person
   Listen, I’m an adult and you’re an adult. We both had lives before each other, and with my dating streak, we’ll have lives after each other. I don’t need you up my ass 24/7 and I doubt you want me hitting you up all hours of the day too. I have my needy moments, but if you’re about to text me five times in a row right after I texted you that I’m busy and will be out of pocket for a bit, make like a stop sign and stop.
3. Romance (or lack there of)
   Netflix and Chill is fun and all, but if every single date is to go to your house and watch a movie and nothing more, I’m going to think three things: you’re probably cheating on someone (only because I’ve been there), you’re embarrassed to be seen with me, and/or you really only want to sleep with me (see number one). Not only that, but it make’s it less fun and spontaneous. There’s no wooing involved just this I did something for you so do something for me attitude, theres just “hey, I sent you a good morning text so you wanna hook up?” WHY
4. The need to follow me on all other social media platforms before our date
   If nothing else has happened on an app for me, it’s that my social media followers have grown exponentially. After the first few “how are you”s, “what do you do for work?”, “what are your interests?”, it’s almost immediately followed by “Do you have Instagram/Snapchat?” If you know me, if I’m glue to my phone, I’m probably home and lookin’ like a potato (goodbye snapchat option). And I not only that, but I pretty much only use Instagram to send memes to my friends (my last post was on October 13th and the one before that was July 18th. that should tell you all you need to know). Not only that, but I was once 250lbs. Don’t get me wrong, I’m fucking proud of how far I’ve come, but I don’t need them or anyone else to think my fat photos are recent either.
5. FBI-like stalking to make sure you’re not getting catfished
   Personally, I can’t speak to this one. I don’t believe in Googling and digging through every inch of the interweb to see what my match did last week, what his ex looks like, or what his number on the football team in high school. I don’t do this but I should, because it would probably answer a lot of questions I have – but this is what best friends are for to do! My friends will literally dig to the bowels of their 2012 Facebook profile just to make sure my match is a real person. and I never understood why until the number six below.
6. Getting Catfished
   I know there are shows for this one, and to be fair, I never thought it could happen with technology nowadays until it happened to me. I was literally talking to him for 3 weeks. I just started my new job so things had been busy. This made making plans nearly impossible, but he was sweet and understanding. We had each other’s Snapchat, Instagram, phone number (iPhone, thank god) and it was fine. We made plans to meet up at a Starbucks near my work which worked for me because I made it my “home turf”. I shit you not, I rolled up to this Starbucks and the guy waiting was NOT the person I had on Instagram/Snapchat. He was a very big guy with a voice that was much deeper than the one I heard on the phone. He said my name so I knew it was him. I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt so I stayed to buy my *own* coffee and conversed for about 15 minutes before doing the Mt. Hope Dip (basically just leaving or Irish Goodbye) with a terrible excuse…dead ass, I think i said I needed to go home and feed my cat…I mean, this is the only reason I now do my homework on matches (lightly, not like a five-stage clinger), but I’m more confused as to why people ever do this!
7. The immature reaction guys give you when you’re honest with them instead of ghosting them
   Nothing hurts me more than ghosting. I think if we’re both adults, we should just be honest with each other on how we feel. So if I’m not interested, I’m going to nicely and maturely tell you I’m not interested. However, there is absolutely nothing I hate more than guys who insult you for being honest. My favorite one to date was some dude who I nicely was like “listen, I just have a lot going on at the moment and need to work everything out. You’re very sweet, but I’m just not interested” and his response was “fine bitch. You’re too fat for me anyways”. Like alright, cool 🙂 What a charmer.

I miss the old school feel of dating. I’m someone who prefers calls over texts, in person over technology, adventure over this weird back and forth via text. I’m someone who doesn’t want to be a moment, but an experience.

So if I have to swipe right, it’ll be on myself.

I don’t think I’ve ever really meshed well with my generation. And I know that all millennial claim they’re not like the other millennials with their lazy no good attitude because back in my day I used to walk to school both ways barefoot in the snow and whatever bullshit made up stories my older relatives would tell me to prove that their life was harder than how “kids have it now”.

I guess in some ways they’re right, though. It’s very very different now. Between attention being treated and sold as a commodity and addiction to things like social media and video games (not acid like in the “good ole days”), our generation is so stuck on the now and not the future….maybe if our future wasn’t to clean up an economic, political, and socioeconomic crisis maybe, maybe, we’d be planning a bit more. Then again if the ice caps melt at the rate they are now, we won’t really ever have to plan – BUT THAT’S NOT WHY I’M HERE TODAY.

I don’t think I’ve ever referred to myself as normal. I think i’m functioning and doing what I can with the limitations I have in order to crush goals, have adventures, and build the empire I have been planning since 2006. But, here’s one thing I never factored into my plan that’s always been there – my body.

I was born with Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis (JRA). It was genetic; my Mom has it, her Mom had it, I’m sure her Mom’s Mom had it. It’s like a cute family tradition, but instead of cute it’s painful and instead of tradition it’s like a chore. I can’t speak what my other family members have had, but I can for mine.

Since I was around 3 years old, I have been well versed with my conditions on top of the rest of my medical file. However, from what every doctor had explained to me, my JRA was sleeping. Which just means “it’s there, you’ll definitely have it, but you wont feel it yet”. So I lived my life as I should growing up – socially awkward and telling terribly timed jokes. Basically where I am now, but missing teeth and still hopeful for Santa, and maybe a bit shorter (if I’m lucky).

I did karate; I did horseback riding; I attempted soccer, cheerleading, fencing, and dance; I did theatre; I did choirs on choirs; I did kickboxing – I did everything under the sun normally (just slightly uncoordinated). Then I hit 19 years old and Rick Van Winkle arose from it’s slumber shedding it’s JRA skin into a passive aggressive mature RA.

For those unfamiliar, rheumatoid arthritis (RA) is a chronic progressive disease causing inflammation in the joints and resulting in painful deformity and immobility, especially in the fingers, wrists, feet, and ankles. As an autoimmune disease, the body’s immune system – which normally protects its health by attacking foreign shit like bacteria and viruses – mistakenly attacks the joints (how sweet). This creates inflammation that causes the tissue around the inside of joints to thicken, resulting in swelling and pain in and around the joints.

If inflammation goes unchecked, it can damage the cartilage, the elastic tissue that covering the joint at the end of your bones, as well as the bones themselves. Over time, you lose cartilage, and the joint spacing between bones can become smaller. AKA my joints can become loose, unstable, painful and lose their mobility – think of a very old person as jello and that’s what the end of the tunnel is suppose to be like.

Basically, I am a twentysomethingyearold in a hundredsomethingyearold’s body. No joke, cane and all. Like I said though, I don’t think I’ve ever been normal or like the rest of everyone my age.  I’ve been conditioned and prepared for this disease to attack since forever. But, I don’t think I’ve ever expected it to hurt this much..

I don’t think people understand how frustrating it is to not be able to hold your cup of coffee in the morning because you can’t close your hand. How you can’t leave your house because you can’t get your hands to grasp the doorknob or manage to put on your pants when your knees won’t unbend. How you have different shoes in different sizes because somedays your feet, toes and ankles will be so swollen that the cute white platform boots you cried tears of joy for won’t close. It fucking sucks.

And it almost feels foolish because you have to pep-talk yourself when calling your manager to call out/work at home because you just physically can’t leave and typing will hurt but at least you’re in your own home. You have to get creative with excuses for not going out with friends because you’re tired and your body hurts, but you can’t tell them you’re just tired because we’re all tired. And the best is when you do tell them why and it’s “can you take anything like advil?” like yes, but I’ll have a bloody nose the whole time. Then if I start to rattle off what I normally take (vitamins and herbs only because that “medication” doctors give you will kill your brain cells. Look it up) and they glaze over almost like they regret asking.

I don’t know. I just wanna know where a girl can go from here? Like, I am unbelievably grateful for all I have, all I’ve worked for, and how far I’ve come – but damn it, I want to wear my cute platform boots when I want to wear them! Silver lining though, at least I’m not Gen Z with their fucking vape pens.

Until next time, and be understanding to your young old people (we need it!),

xxK

Thanks for joining me! I have no fucking clue what I’m doing.

Reporting live from New York, it’s me with crippling anxiety and no idea how the hell to adult or use the damn subway…

I had a previous blog (dotheboldthing.tumblr.com), but I figured if I were to be an adult or at the very least attempt to be an adult, I should upgrade to WordPress like the rest of functioning society.

Just a disclaimer, this is just a way for me to organize my thoughts and maybe one day have validation from one reader that I’m not alone. But for now I know it’s mayyybeee just my mom reading (hi).

You know in those movies where the main character does something really messed up and the frame freezes and it’s like “you’re probably wondering how I got in this position…” that’s me every single morning. Standing, half asleep on a very crowded A train, heading to Midtown only after realizing I left my rheumatoid arthritis medication on the counter, and only half consumed my coffee due to participating in the I wonder how long I can sleep before being late game.

Cut to Journey singing Just a small town girl…who moved 200miles from comfort, family, and friends to explore some energy much bigger than her ego (and trust me, that’s a fucking feat). I went from knowing the rules of the game, how to play them to get where I want, who to talk to, and where to go to this weird sensory issue and crippling social anxiety that makes zero fucking sense if you knew me pre-risky decision. Ya girl moved from New England to Long Island, thought it was a snooze, to the queen city herself – New York motherfucking City.

Don’t get me wrong, this city is everything you want it to be. Brave, vibrant, owning it’s shit no matter what happens – but something in me…snapped? I guess?

Pre-risky decision (aka moving here), I was partying and would come home to my 800sqft apartment to many friends just hanging out and vibing. To late nights full of board games, jam sessions, and the booze infused life chats after an adventurous bar crawl.

Now, I’ve developed this social anxiety where: Yes, I want to go out. Yes, I want to do things and be reckless and young and crazy and make terrible poor decisions.BUT, my entire body just screams NOOOOO WE NEED TO GO HOME OR ELSE BAD THINGS. So I go through this routine of work, home, shower, dinner, bed, repeat and sulk in this overwhelming sense of FOMO (mom, that means fear of missing out). I’m sorry, but do you realize how absolutely sad that is? I just turned 24 and rather than drink at a bar having a good time, I’m drinking on my couch next to my cat.

I’m not 100% sure where it stemmed from, to be honest. I did read an article that the phycological effects of giving up a car is similar to the feeling of losing control and that Type A personalities tend to engage in a depression like state when this occurs. Wow, like the WebMD of articles, amirite? I’m sure if I read the whole thing it would have stated that most side effects can be weight gain due to influx in ice cream consumption (true) and death (only on the inside so far but…). Maybe it is a sense of losing control? I mean, I take a timed subway to work, work on a scheduled bases, take a timed lunch, then get back on a timed subway surrounded by crazies, and go home. There’s a routine, but not much control there. But, I also think it’s a sense of “I want to do xyz, but I’ve heard the horror stories and don’t want to die on my walk home” which, to be fair, is dramatic as fuck, however, no matter how many times people tell me to get over it (but, in kinder words) it’s still there.

I think I just need a girl gang again. One to check my ego, and not be afraid to stop at my building and be like “get in the car bitch, we’re going shopping” (that was a MeanGirls reference if you didn’t catch it).

But Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither was my sarcastic attitude so I guess I can’t expect this to be solved overnight…hopefully in the second month though.

Until next time,

xxK