When You Put Yourself First..

I have always heard of a quarter-life-crisis; from books, media, my friends, it was not a foreign concept to me.  However, I was never totally sold on the idea . . . that is, of course, until it happened to me.  Funny how that always happens, you never think things exist or could actually happen until you get smacked in the face with reality. 

My quarter-life-crisis really just consists of a few difficult years each bringing their own obstacles, but leading me ever closer to where I am meant to be.  It is very easy to spiral out of control when you are overwhelmed, stressed, nothing seems to be going your way and there is no end in sight.  I won’t lie, some days that is me, happily plunging down the rabbit hole of self-pity, but most days I try to accept that there IS a plan and what lies ahead is far better than what lies behind me.  So, I am just trudging through the mud and biding my time until all this hard work pays off. 

The great thing about this time, though, is that I am learning a lot.  I am working, studying, managing my house, friends, family, daily nonsense, all by myself.  This is the longest I have been single in my adulthood (the whole 2 years), but for the very first time, I am completely alone.  I do not live with my significant other or my parents or even roommates.  If I don’t make my bed in the morning, well I come home to a messy bed at night.  If I don’t take something out to be defrosted in the morning, then it looks like Seamless for dinner for me!  With all these curve balls life has thrown me in the past few years, living on my own has actually made it easier.

When I say easy, I do not mean that it is easier to go through everything alone, but it forces me to depend on myself.  Sure, I do have bouts where I call my parents and brother and make them cook me dinner or watch a movie with me, but 90% of the time I am alone.  I get to know myself in a way that I previously haven’t been able to.  Have you ever lived by yourself? I mean completely alone, I can’t even keep a plant alive let alone a pet.  It is just you and your thoughts 24/7.  You get to do what you want, when you want, and really learn about what it is you want. 

Living on my own for two years now I have discovered tons of things about myself.  So much so that when people do come into my space and start trying to take over I notice that I really like MY way better than anyone else’s.  The great thing about this time is that I do get to learn more about the person I am, and be strong and confident enough in her that I will never surrender her for another person’s happiness again.  I was always the ‘people pleaser’ in relationships.  I like to do nice things for people in general, and I am a good character reader, so I would always bend over backwards and inconvenience myself to appease others.  All that led to was me losing the person I was, being sad and lost, and the other person caring more about their own happiness than mine.  This was where my 2 year search really kicked off.  I knew that I need to be happy with me, and really figure out what I liked and wanted out of life.  I got to blast the music I wanted to blast, read the books I wanted to read, record all the silly TV shows I want.  I am just completely enamored with the little life I’ve built for myself. However, like with all great things, a downfall must follow . . . I am so happy in my own solitude that I am not openly welcoming to share that.  Sure, if you’re great then I will accept you and want you in my life, but you are going to have to be pretty darn great to make me want to let you in to the Fortress of Solitude.

My advice to you, ladies and gents, is that no matter how old you are---take some time for yourself.  Even if maybe you cannot completely live on your own just yet, learn to be happy in your own company.  Because really, you cannot love anyone else until you know who you are and love yourself first and foremost.  So bring it on, quarter-life-crisis, as long as I have myself, I have this under control!

What College Means to Me; And Why I Will Forever Be A Jasper

Anyone that meets me for longer than 5 seconds knows I am a New Yorker, through and through.  I was recently at a wedding where the Bride’s father described me as ‘New York’ to every passerby.  I wasn’t mad at the fact, it is true.  I have New York engrained in my core, and I could not be prouder to call it my home.  However, despite the NYC skyline making my smile on a daily basis, my real home(s) are the boroughs.  Not going into too much detail, I have pretty much lived in or pledged my allegiance to 4 of the boroughs (sorry, Staten Island, no thanks.)  But the Bronx homes my school, and for that I will forever be grateful.

College is a defining moment in everyone’s life.  It is where they spend 4 years, exiting adolescence, and start to become transcended into the adult they are meant to be.  As my peers could attest, some lucky men and women meet their soulmate in college.  This was something my mother always hoped for me, I think.  Unfortunately for me, my school was so small that by the beginning of Sophomore year I had already befriended who I wanted and gave up on everyone else for a long term paramour.  Still, years later, I do not regret that decision.  While my mother may have expected me to meet my soulmate in the form of a husband, she wasn’t entirely wrong about me meeting my soulmate. 

I believe that a soulmate is your soul’s counterpart; someone who understands the darkest, dreariest corners of your soul, loves you for your flaws, and complements your being.  For me, I found that in college on my first day; my down the hall neighbor, or ‘wingmate’ as our annex of the floor so had it be.  I met her on the very first move-in day in 2006, and despite her being 2 years older than me, we were inseparable.  Life may have taken us in many different directions; different states, different study aboard opportunities, different careers, even presently living in different countries, but throughout everything, I never doubted her dedication to my life…and I hope she never doubted mine.  You see, although I met Nicole (that’s her name. hey best friend!) nearly 10 years ago, I know that she will always be a permanent fixture in my life.  Not only because she has entirely too much dirt on me, and it would be too exhausting at this point to ‘break in’ a new bestie (halfjoking!) but because even when life gets in the way and we go a bit without talking, I could never picture her not being there for some random point in my life. 

It has been the better part of 10 years since we met, and this past weekend was her wedding day.  A wedding in which I was a part of the bridal party.  I was extremely humbled to be ask to be her bridesmaid.  I was humbled to play such an important role in her special day.  But mainly, I was taken aback by what an absolutely stunning bride she made.  This girl that I met at 20 years old was now this gorgeous, striking woman who was going to marry the man of her dreams (an amazing fairytale story all on its own.)  I have never had a prouder moment as a friend in my life.

So whenever I get my college’s newsletter and see all my fellow graduates marrying our other peers (some of whom married their exboyfriend’s roommate…awkward!) I laugh.  Because while I may not have found the love of my life in form of a husband, I found something better, a sister.   For many reasons, whenever people talk to me and ask me about my educational background, I always have a special place in my heart for Manhattan College.  While it gave me a great education and a firm foundation to grow on, it introduced me to some of the most amazing people.  People I know I cannot shake from my soul no matter how many years have passed.  This is why I get so passionate about my Alma Mater, and this is why I am profoundly grateful for MC.  

 
Forever and always, 1 will mean home.

Singing Me Home

I used to be a scene kid when I was younger; I always used to go to concerts and shows[1], knew all the local bands, I was always on ‘the scene.’  However as I got older I went to less shows, less concerts, and before I knew it, the only time I saw a band was if the bar I was going to on the weekend had a cover band on the docket.  Don’t get me wrong, I am a sucker for a good cover band, but I began to forget what it felt to be a part of something bigger; a feeling that only a good live show could give you.

As was mentioned in a previous blog[2], I went to an amazing concert (Brand New) during the summer in which it transcended me to a completely different place.  A serene moment where everything made sense and nothing else mattered but where I was at the moment.  That is the power of good music, it transcends you.  Several weeks ago, on a rainy and otherwise dull Saturday, I went to Jones Beach with a bunch of my friends to see The Gaslight Anthem and Jimmy Eat World.  Yes, THAT Jimmy Eat World.  I am a huge Gaslight fan, and have seen them several times before, but Jimmy Eat World was a band from my youth that I have never had the chance to see live.  Despite our tickets all being for different sections, the rain kept a lot of people away and our group of 5 was able to sit with each other.  The first band, Against Me!, came and went, pumping the arena with an energy that only a punk rock band can bring.  Then, almost immediately after, came Jimmy.

Now I should pause and preface with how, while I was looking forward to the concert in advance, that day I was not feeling good and had a lot of work at home to do which was making me cranky. 

But, the minute Jimmy hit the stage and started singing ‘Sweetness,’ my mood was completely uplifted.  Every note he hit, every word he sang, hit me like a ton of bricks.

There is no better feeling than being in the middle of a concert listening to a band sing all the words you wished you penned, and being in a stadium surrounded by people who just get it.  Something about live music hitting your soul . . . It can absolve all your sins, wash away all your worry, and put all chronic nagging of bad days to bed.  I forgot how seeing a good band live can make you drown in positive energy and make you feel infinite.  How listening to a band live and feeding off the energy of the room can make you feel like you are exactly where you are meant to be at the exact time you are meant to be there, with people who feel the same way.  It always surprises me when I lose myself for a minute, but then I come back to things I thought I outgrew and I find myself again.  There are some events that hit you like a phenomenon, making you rethink your purpose in life, making you realize how utterly small you are in an unforgiving and indifferent universe, and how comforting that feeling is.  Being immersed in live music by a band I love does that for me.  It makes me realize how the world is forever changing in an unapologetic way, and how I should cherish any moment that makes time just stop.  So whenever I feel I am getting lost, I can just turn on a song from my past and relish in the times I’ve lost myself in the moment at concerts.  And for that, I will forever be a free spirit. 

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[1] Shows are concerts of non-mainstream (non-famous) musicians

[2] http://lctranette.blogspot.com/2014/08/a-melody-sounds-like-memory.html

Magic is in the air. . .

For anyone that watches the show New Girl, you will not need the preface, but for those of you that do not, I will oblige…Last week’s episode was about Jessica Day, the show’s protagonist, diving into the world of online dating.  As we all know, and my blog can attest, the world of online dating is a scary place.  However at the end of several uncomfortable and awkward dates, she manages to meet this guy she likes and connects with on a lot of different levels.  But in true Sitcom fashion, the tone of the date changes as she quickly discovers he is not her type. Why is he not her type, you ask? Well it is because he is a magician, who proceeds to ‘woo’ her with magic tricks. The whole premise of the episode was absurd.  Her date was in the middle of a restaurant being embarrassing, trying to untangle rings from each other and pulling rabbits out of hats.  I actually pitied the character of Jessica Day for having a more horrible dating story than I do.

The episode was so unrealistic and embarrassing that of course I had to laugh with my PIC[1] about how awful I feel for that staged yet terribly uncomfortable date.  I then began to tell her about a story from many moons ago (which pretty much everyone has heard before).  You see, 2009 was a big life-changing year for me, for many different reasons, but mainly it holds all of my best and most exciting bar stories.  After my very first breakup, I went to my local watering hole to drown my sorrows, and my good friends Bobo and P came to cheer me up and join in the shenanigans of the evening.  While we started at our original ‘go to’ bar we proceeded to have an impromptu bar crawl and meet some people along the way.  Our first stop was going to another local hotspot to meet one of my friends who ‘had a guy’ she ‘wanted me to meet.’  Fair enough, I thought, what could possibly be wrong with that?  WELL, in true Gabrielle fashion, nothing is ever so simple.  So as Bobo, P and myself go into this bar we are immediately accosted by my very inebriated friend, and her ‘perfect guy’ . . . a Magician.   Don’t get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with being a magician, certainly 5 years ago when I was just a student, but it is not my cup of tea.  So after throwing up the smoke signals, P and Bobo swoop in and we go on our merry way to continue an amazingly infamous night that can only be summed up in two words . . . Zebra Cakes.  But that is a story for another time.

Now as I am telling my PIC this story, which she has heard from Bobo, P and myself many times before (it’s a crowd pleaser) she was like ‘well what about last summer?’  A story which I COMPLETELY blocked out of my memory.  Last summer my PIC, another friend and myself decided to go a few towns over to watch the fireworks and hangout in some new scenery.  We went to a mildly familiar bar and managed to make some new friends in the outside bar portion.  It was there that we met a man named Alabama, who proceeded to sing a song about my amiga, Clara (and glitter), with his harmonica [the video is still floating around the glory that is Facebook, by the way.]   Also at the bar was an adorable looking ginger, whom for blog references we will call Rodolfo, since his real name was something similarly absurd.  Rodolfo was very nice, came up to our group, hungout was talking to us, polite, normal and sweet; seemed nice enough, right?  Well after I had given him my number, we discovered, as is my luck, that he is not normal, but is, in fact, a Magician! But not only was he a magician, he was also a rapper---which he explained as going to neighborhoods and trying to rap battle people. (Am I too old and out of touch to not believe that that actually happens?)  Again, not judging anyone’s life choices, but in your mid-twenties, I think it’s time to give up the ghost on being the next Eminem.  Also, the early 2000’s are over—even Eminem doesn’t want to be Eminem!

It was after this discovery that Rodlofo 1) joined Alabama in an impromptu concert in which he ‘spit some raps’ (is that how the kids describe it these days?) and Alabama jammed out on his ‘ca (that’s short for Harmonica, right?) and 2) Rodlofo busted out in a COMPLETE choreographed dance of Beyonce’s ‘Single Ladies.’  Now, here is a fact about ME, it is near impossible to get me embarrassed.  If anyone has ever met my dad, we know I am used to some random and awkward tomfoolery, but watching a 6’4” ginger with a giant curly afro start rapping, doing card tricks and then breaking it down to ‘single ladies’ was enough to turn me red and put me off.

I am all for loving the life you live and being completely and unapologetically yourself, but that whole scene was a little too much for me; certainly on a first encounter.  But I cannot blame him too much. . . Clearly I am an inviting (and eccentric) person that I constantly find myself meeting such interesting characters.  However, what I really learned about myself in those stories is that evidently I have a penchant for magicians.  That sad little fact actually fills me with hope.  I mean, who knows, maybe love really is in the air!!  One day I will meet the magician/clown/rapper who sweeps me off my feet and makes me forget about all the lovers lost in the past.  Another fun fact learned from this is whenever I think some RomCom on TV is depicting an unrealistic and awkwardly embarrassing date, my friends will be there to remind me that I definitely have had worse in real life.  So it goes. . . 

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[1] PIC- Stands for Partner In Crime (mine happens to be TaraMascara)

Before you say Goodbye, Hold Onto Hope.

It is with a heavy heart that I say goodbye to Robin Williams, who was always a favorite actor of mine.  Unfortunately he was found dead in his home yesterday after losing his battle with depression.  When people hear the news, all they can think of is ‘he committed suicide.’  No, it is not that simple.  He did not just commit suicide, that was an effect of a deeper cause; he lost his battle with depression.

Depression is an ugly monster.  It is not just a temporary feeling of sadness that one can quickly shake off; it is an all-encompassing feeling of worthlessness, sadness beyond belief, and overwhelming pain, be it physical or emotional.  Whenever it comes to victims who succumb to suicide, there are always people who are disgusted and call that person ‘selfish.’  I am sorry, but that absolutely enrages me; so much so that I felt compelled to write an article about it.

I have lost several people in my life to suicide, and never once did I think they were selfish.  Yes, I wished they stayed with us, sought help, saw how great they were like we all did, but I was never mad at them for choosing what they did.  People who suffer from depression suffer; it is an illness just like any other.  Suicide is not a choice a rational minded person makes; it is what some victims of depression feel as a compulsion.  Imagine the worst day you have ever had and multiply that by 100 and that is a glimpse of what depression is like.  Depression victims do not just get ‘sad’ or ‘down on themselves,’ they are filled with such a self-deprecating feeling of hatred that they actually think their existence is a disservice to their loved ones; that being alive brings the people they love grief and pain.  Depression can make you feel so worthless that you not only can’t see how anyone would love you, but you don’t want the people you love to be around such a horrible person.  That is how depression makes you view yourself.  To regularly think that the world would be a better place without you in it, and to feel so isolated, it is no wonder why so many people succumb to the disease. 

As a society I think we need to stop blaming people who have suicidal thoughts and try to help them.  Depression is an illness and when we are sick we take care of ourselves and have others take care of us, this is no different.  Instead of pointing the finger at victims of suicide and calling them selfish, let us get to the root of the problem and try to help them before it is too late.  All lives are precious and especially important to the people we hold dear, they should know that.  No one should ever feel so isolated and unloved, especially when they are surrounded by people that love them.  There are plenty of suicide prevention companies[1] but many victims feel they can do it on their own or that no one understands them.  I happen to think they are right in the latter thinking.  Society is so quick to turn a blind eye to the gravity of depression and when the worst arises, no one takes responsibility that it could have been prevented.  I do not think it can be prevented all the time, but it never hurts to try and be the helping hand, the friendly lifeline, the shoulder that someone might be dying to have.  So as a society let us lose the stigma of suicide and depression, and let us acknowledge it as an illness like any other and talk about the root of the problem in order to find a solution.

There is always hope.

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[1] www.Suicidepreventionlifeline.org , www.TLOHA.com

Girl At The Rock Show

Over the weekend I spontaneously went to a concert at the Forrest Hills Tennis Club.  If you have never been there and you get the opportunity to check out a concert there, definitely do it!  That is now one of my favorite venues ever.  For an outdoor stadium, the sound was good, all seats had a good view of the stage (although we had particularly good seats) and the vibe of the concert was just intimate and fun; granted that may have had something to do with the band.  That brings me to the real reason of the article, the concert I went to was for the band Brand New.  If you don’t know who they are, you should google them right now, I’ll wait! 

But for a quick background, they are a Long Island based band that started in 2000.  They are currently working on their fifth album, and with every new album they released, the band has tweaked their sound (vibe) somewhat.  While they always stick within the genre of rock, they have grown from pop punk to indie to emo and now are in alternative.

Although Brand New may not be known by everyone, they have a really big following, and as the occupants of the crowd at the Tennis Club could attest, they are loved by rockers/bros/sorority girls/young and old people alike.  Brand New amongst a few other bands got me through a lot of my adolescence, and looking around the crowd at the Tennis Club, it looked like many of people could say the same.  The minute they took the stage, the crowd roared with excitement and praise, and from the very first note of their very first song, it was evident I would be boarding the nostalgia train for the evening. 

Every song they played transported me, and the rest of the audience, to a different time and place.  I sat in my seat swaying to the music, belting out every song, as did the rest of the crowd; it was really a transcendental experience.  I have gone to several concerts in my adulthood, but I really used to go to a lot through my youth and in college.  If I went to one show a month, it was a slow month.  However now, as I am older, the same shows I used to go to are hit and miss.  Sometimes they’re a lot of fun, and other times I’m annoyed I’m being squished behind a mosh pit and some smelly/sweaty 20 year old is too deeply in my personal space. 

However, seeing Brand New Saturday night made me realize how great concerts and shows can be when the music really means something to you.  Listening to Jesse Lacey and his band and being in that environment, surrounded by music and people who loved it as much as I do, made me extremely happy to be there.  I was happy to be in the moment, my soul was calm and content, and I was filled with an abundance of love for the universe.  That show reminded me why my first love was music, which apparently was something I needed to be reminded of since I thought I was getting too old for shows.

Brand New and a few of the other indie bands of my youth always spoke to me in a way that doesn’t happen every day.  In college I once turned in a 5 page paper that revolved around one Brand New song and it’s meaning to me.  I am a firm believer that anything can have personal meaning, but music should most definitely be one of those things.  So I guess the lesson I learned Saturday was you are never too old to see your favorite band or to relive memories that always had such a huge impact ony our life.  

Is This A Date?

In the 21^st century it seems traditional dating has become a thing of the past, as it has now been replaced with ‘hangouts’ in an attempt to be detached.  The ‘winner’ in the game of dating is whoever cares the least, right? Wrong! Or at least I think it’s wrong, but apparently I always lose, because while I think caring comes gradually, I do care enough about my dating life that I want to be courted a bit.  Thus brings me to my perpetually problematic dating life.

When I say I want to be courted, I do not mean I expect lavished gifts or someone to profess their love for me via skywriting (although I would not be opposed to those things, fellas!) but I mean more in the little things.  I am a very low maintenance person; you give me a book, some sunflowers or something shiny and I am distracted and content for hours.  While some girls look for gifts, I rather look for attention or little tokens that you’re thinking of the other person.  For example, I am a huge texter; I’m not one to talk on the phone too often, but in the ‘getting to know you’ stage of dating, I find texting to be extremely imperative.  I know everyone is busy during work hours, but it takes nothing to quickly rattle off a text just to let the object of your affection know you’re thinking of them.  Trust me, ladies and gents, the smallest gestures are often the biggest impacting.

So that being the case, when someone takes enough interest to ask me on a date and schedule it days (or sometimes even weeks) in advance, I expect to hear from them in the interim.  Alas, not everyone was raised the same way and have different ideas of ‘etiquette’ than I do.  I am finding that the new ‘trend’ in the dating scene amongst mid-twenty to mid-thirty-somethings is to ask someone on a date in advance, and then not check in until early evening the day of. Are you JOKING?!  Personally, this is a huge turn off.  Basically by waiting to text me til 4pm [or after] the day of the date seems to me like you were expecting me to be pining away, thinking about this date, and not make any other plans.  Not to be mean or anything, but my ‘free time’ is way too limited to wait around for anyone, so if you do not follow up, I assume the date is off.  Because really, it is just inconsiderate to think that someone is waiting around for you; why are you so special? 

I want to be excited about a date, anticipating seeing the person in a new [romantic] light (if you already know them) or getting to know someone new entirely.  Dates are supposed to be fun, scary, but fun nonetheless, filled with anticipation and hope.  You’re supposed to want to get dressed up, present your best self, and talk to someone, even if you know them, in a way that you have not previously done so. 

On the flip side, with all this ‘textual aloofness’ trending in my generation today, I tend to get easily discouraged and instead of looking forward to the date, I actually dread it.  If there is no excitement going into the date, then there is no hope of a relationship because it is evident that there is no spark.  I mean, if you’re not even going to take the time to text someone or, let’s say, get a little dressed up for a date, then why would I think that you would be a suitable mate? Again, I’m not looking for something grand, but if you show up for a date in a white Hanes (under)shirt, khaki shorts and a hat that you casually mentioned you picked up from your female friend’s house, I am going to assume you do not want to pursue a romantic relationship since you clearly couldn’t even bother to muster up the energy to throw on a polo and brush your hair. 

It is much tougher for girls to get ready for a date; we don’t know if we should dress casual or fancy, or if we dress ‘fancy casual’ in which it looks like we look so effortlessly cute, but in reality it took a lot of effort.  Then there is the ‘do I wear comfortable shoes or heels?’ meanwhile all a boy needs to do to look fancy is throw on a polo or a flannel.  You’re telling me a Hanes shirt that is meant to wear UNDER things is the best you could do, and I’m supposed to want to go on a second date?  No thank you, I am out.  I’m not looking for a Prince Charming, but a little romance would be nice.

With that in mind, if you’re not looking forward to a date, is there even a point going?  There have been plenty of times where I have dreaded a date in which my friends force me to ‘suck it up and go’ and my gut always ends up being right.  If there is no spark, no cat and mouse flirting, no communication prior to the actual date event, then is there a point attending the date at all?  I’m genuinely asking, because I’m not quite sure if I am giving the universe too much credit here.  My viewpoint on dating is if I do not feel something for that person, and there’s not even enough of an attraction to want to communicate a little before a date, then they probably aren’t the person for me.  I assume (here’s where giving the universe too much credit comes in) that when I find someone who I am supposed to give a chance, I will know it and feel something, anything other than apathy, really.  However, I have a friend[1] who tells me I should give everyone a chance.  Actually what she really says is ‘if their face doesn’t make you vomit, try them out and go on a date.’  So is dating more of a numbers game than a cosmic pull?  Do you just race through life and love going on as many dates as possible, even when you don’t want to, in hopes that the numbers will be in your favor and you’ll eventually stumble across your ‘one in a million.’  I am hoping someone has the answers to this life secret, because I am definitely stumped and on the fence about this one.

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[1] Hey, Tahitz!