K so if you don't know I moved to LA yesterday then... SURPRISE, I'm here. This post however, will have very little do with my new life because it's going to be all about time. Not like "it's about time you..." but actual time. More specifically time changes. But I guess you knew that from the title so I just wasted 30 seconds of your life and mine. Time.
Okay so, it's weird enough having to live three hours behind the east coast but lately, a lot of my friends have found a fondness for travel and so now I'm:
-1 hour behind my dad who is in Costa Rica
-2 hours behind my brother who is in Chicago and Katrina who's in MN
-2 1/2 hours behind Venezuela (Thanks Chavez, you piece of shit)
-3 hours behind all my East-coasters
-8 hours behind Erica in London and Michelle in Spain
-17 hours behind my lil nigga (Isis)
The list goes on...I'm literally living in the past and it's weird. Right now I'm lounging and watching Air Bud trying to figure out plans for tonight while my brother is pregaming while Mariana (east coast) is having a bon fire while Michelle is probably partying and Erica is definitely drunk. And lord only knows what Isis is doing but it's almost noon of tomorrow for her.
For us to all be drunk at the same time, someone would have to be an alcoholic. Strike that, we ALL would have to be alcoholics.
But anyway, the point of this post was for us all to imagine if the world was under one time zone.
This is hypothetical, I'm just playing. Don't get all science-y on me. Thanks.
What if 12pm just looked different to different parts of the world? Imagine if all the world leaders got together and decided that for a week, we would all be under California's (because I'm here) time zone. The rest of the world would have a "no man's land time" holiday while they waited the time to reset at Cali's noon. The smart thing would be to drink yourself to sleep but who wants to be hungover for the first world time zone day!? Everyone? Okay. At this point, everyone would be jet lagged as hell but they would have to attend worldwide parties and events thrown by the aforementioned leaders. It'd be a sort of hunger games situation but without the having to kill each other. So not hunger games at all. Maybe like X Games or Crossfit Games (hey Matt!), if I knew what those were. But more fun. I just want to experiment everyone going through their day at the same time. The world would probably collapse but it would be a fun experiment. I'm gonna stop now...I'm confused. Time is a terrible thing to waste and I just wasted way too much time writing this post. Oh my god. Bye.
I obviously didn't think this through and if you were able to follow my logic, I salute you. You are a true friend.
Aight, I'm put ya'll through enough today,
-Yanz
Friday, May 31, 2013
Monday, May 27, 2013
I'm from Miami, bitch
I talk shit about Miami all the time because sometimes, Miami is pretty terrible. But despite all my shit talking, you should know that I do love that I grew up here. I've seen a bunch of stupid lists of why "Miami is the Greatest City on Earth" and it inspired me to write this post. Because 1. Miami isn't the great city in the world 2. But it can be. 3. Please tell me that reference wasn't wasted on you all.
Okay, but in all seriousness, there are a lot of things that make Miami a pretty okay city to grow up in. I'm glad I'm gonna start my life in LA but I still got mad love for the 305* and here's why:
1. Food
While other places in the US celebrate "Hispanic Heritage Month" with a visit to Taco Bell and a Mexican hat, here in Miami we know better. Every month is Hispanic Heritage Month and we eat croquetas, tequeños and empanadas on the reg. Hamburgers are great but they just can't compare to un Pabellon Criollo, arepas or a cachapa. Have I lost you? Sorry, I went full Venezuelan. I have a point and it's this, Hispanic food trumps literally all other food and my advice to all you non-hispanics/non-miamians, come visit Miami, not for the beaches but for the food. Hit up a Peruvian place for some Peruvian fried rice, ceviche and the best damn chicken you'll ever eat. Go to a Colombian place and dare yourself to eat an entire Bandeja Paisa. Hit up a Cuban place and go HAM. Go to Doral and you'll have your pick of Venezuelan places. I can keep going but I've convinced myself to go out for lunch so I have to finish this post ASAP. Just come to Miami and eat your little hearts out.
2. Dancing
Parties, get togethers, 3 people hanging out in my living room. If there's people over, we're dancing. The other day I was hanging out with 2 friends and I left one with my phone so she could here a Ke$ha song while I went upstairs to get my computer. When I came downstairs my two friends were crumping with big ol' smiles on their faces. At my grad party, we were gonna play pong but instead we danced all night long. Parties without dancing are lame and everyone in Miami knows that. Now we just gotta get this message to the rest of the US.
3. Pitbull
Speaking of dancing, Pitbull. Miamians, don't pretend you're not a Pitbull fan. Let's face it, you are. Whether you're ashamed of loving him or not when you hear "SUBE LAS MANOS PA' RRIBA," your hands are in the air and you just don't care. I got mad love for Mr. Worldwide and I don't care who knows it. Yes, we do say "Dale" as much as you would think.
4. Spanglish
When you go anywhere in Miami, you're usually asking yourself, should I talk to this bitch in English or Spanish? The answer we all arrive on is "Por que no los dos?" You'll hear things like "Pero, like," "Epa bro" "el fucking pendejo este"and the more hideous made up words like "printear" "parquear,"** etc. The fact that we can go out into the world and not speak any one language, but a combination of the two is a beautiful and frightening thing.
5. Affection
The world could use more hugs and kisses on the cheek. In Miami, whether your meeting someone for the first time or saying hi to your friend, you give them a kiss on the cheek and/or a hug. When I got to Boston, the lack of physical contact was startling and upsetting. A hug never hurt anyone and the only acceptable handshake in my head is the one that comes before a hug. Everyone needs to stop being so damn awkward and start greeting each other with love.
6. Spanish Curse Words
In one of these stupid "Miami is the greatest" lists, someone put Miami traffic as a good thing. No. It's not. What's good is being able to curse someone out in Spanish. Whether they cut you off, are driving too fucking slow or just stole your parking spot, you have a plethora of swear words to choose from. Some of my favorite insults while driving: marico avanza!, no te metas en mi lane pajuo/a! guevon! pendejo de mierda! These are just a few but you can get creative and mix and match. "Motherfucker" just doesn't have the same ring as "coño de tu madre" and it's not nearly as satisfying. These words aren't reserved just for driving though, we use them whenever we're mad and they make everything just a little bit better
7. Heat games
You haven't experienced Miami life until you've seen a Heat game the right way, with music, drinks and a ton of friends. Complete with delicious food, hugs, Pitbull, halftime dance parties, yelling things in spanglish and cursing out the other team, watching a Heat game is truly the epitome of the Miami life. The Heat is one of the most hated teams in the NBA so we have to make up for that by loving them as hard as we can. I laugh at the haters because while they're watching they're beloved Pacers, or Celtics or (insert team name here), they're not having a fraction of the fun we're having when we're watching our guys. When Lebron and Wade are holding that trophy again we won't be shit talking you, we'll be too busy celebrating. And if we don't win, we'll still be celebrating the amazing season the Heat had this year. But we really hope we win so we can all go be chusmas in Hialeah (a ghetto ass part of Miami) and rattle those pans all night long. (Not a euphemism, we literally take to the streets and scream whilst hitting pots and pans with sticks. I can't make this shit up).
8. Honorable Mention
The "Shit Miami People Say" Part 1 and 2 are the best "shit people say" videos.
So there ya have it, just a few things I love about this crazy city. It might not be my favorite place in the world but I'll still jump to it's defense whenever anyone shit talks it. So wherever my life takes me, I'll always be proud that I have a home in Miami.
Peace out, fools!
-Yani
* it was recently brought to my attention that our comrades outside of Miami don't know what "The 305" is. Clearly, they don't listen to Pitbull. 305 is the cooler of the Miami area codes. Mr. 786 doesn't have the same ring to it. But yeah, 305 = Miami
**To be clear, the correct words are "imprimir" and "estacionar" LRN2SPANISH
Okay, but in all seriousness, there are a lot of things that make Miami a pretty okay city to grow up in. I'm glad I'm gonna start my life in LA but I still got mad love for the 305* and here's why:
1. Food
While other places in the US celebrate "Hispanic Heritage Month" with a visit to Taco Bell and a Mexican hat, here in Miami we know better. Every month is Hispanic Heritage Month and we eat croquetas, tequeños and empanadas on the reg. Hamburgers are great but they just can't compare to un Pabellon Criollo, arepas or a cachapa. Have I lost you? Sorry, I went full Venezuelan. I have a point and it's this, Hispanic food trumps literally all other food and my advice to all you non-hispanics/non-miamians, come visit Miami, not for the beaches but for the food. Hit up a Peruvian place for some Peruvian fried rice, ceviche and the best damn chicken you'll ever eat. Go to a Colombian place and dare yourself to eat an entire Bandeja Paisa. Hit up a Cuban place and go HAM. Go to Doral and you'll have your pick of Venezuelan places. I can keep going but I've convinced myself to go out for lunch so I have to finish this post ASAP. Just come to Miami and eat your little hearts out.
2. Dancing
Parties, get togethers, 3 people hanging out in my living room. If there's people over, we're dancing. The other day I was hanging out with 2 friends and I left one with my phone so she could here a Ke$ha song while I went upstairs to get my computer. When I came downstairs my two friends were crumping with big ol' smiles on their faces. At my grad party, we were gonna play pong but instead we danced all night long. Parties without dancing are lame and everyone in Miami knows that. Now we just gotta get this message to the rest of the US.
3. Pitbull
Speaking of dancing, Pitbull. Miamians, don't pretend you're not a Pitbull fan. Let's face it, you are. Whether you're ashamed of loving him or not when you hear "SUBE LAS MANOS PA' RRIBA," your hands are in the air and you just don't care. I got mad love for Mr. Worldwide and I don't care who knows it. Yes, we do say "Dale" as much as you would think.
4. Spanglish
When you go anywhere in Miami, you're usually asking yourself, should I talk to this bitch in English or Spanish? The answer we all arrive on is "Por que no los dos?" You'll hear things like "Pero, like," "Epa bro" "el fucking pendejo este"and the more hideous made up words like "printear" "parquear,"** etc. The fact that we can go out into the world and not speak any one language, but a combination of the two is a beautiful and frightening thing.
5. Affection
The world could use more hugs and kisses on the cheek. In Miami, whether your meeting someone for the first time or saying hi to your friend, you give them a kiss on the cheek and/or a hug. When I got to Boston, the lack of physical contact was startling and upsetting. A hug never hurt anyone and the only acceptable handshake in my head is the one that comes before a hug. Everyone needs to stop being so damn awkward and start greeting each other with love.
6. Spanish Curse Words
In one of these stupid "Miami is the greatest" lists, someone put Miami traffic as a good thing. No. It's not. What's good is being able to curse someone out in Spanish. Whether they cut you off, are driving too fucking slow or just stole your parking spot, you have a plethora of swear words to choose from. Some of my favorite insults while driving: marico avanza!, no te metas en mi lane pajuo/a! guevon! pendejo de mierda! These are just a few but you can get creative and mix and match. "Motherfucker" just doesn't have the same ring as "coño de tu madre" and it's not nearly as satisfying. These words aren't reserved just for driving though, we use them whenever we're mad and they make everything just a little bit better
7. Heat games
You haven't experienced Miami life until you've seen a Heat game the right way, with music, drinks and a ton of friends. Complete with delicious food, hugs, Pitbull, halftime dance parties, yelling things in spanglish and cursing out the other team, watching a Heat game is truly the epitome of the Miami life. The Heat is one of the most hated teams in the NBA so we have to make up for that by loving them as hard as we can. I laugh at the haters because while they're watching they're beloved Pacers, or Celtics or (insert team name here), they're not having a fraction of the fun we're having when we're watching our guys. When Lebron and Wade are holding that trophy again we won't be shit talking you, we'll be too busy celebrating. And if we don't win, we'll still be celebrating the amazing season the Heat had this year. But we really hope we win so we can all go be chusmas in Hialeah (a ghetto ass part of Miami) and rattle those pans all night long. (Not a euphemism, we literally take to the streets and scream whilst hitting pots and pans with sticks. I can't make this shit up).
8. Honorable Mention
The "Shit Miami People Say" Part 1 and 2 are the best "shit people say" videos.
So there ya have it, just a few things I love about this crazy city. It might not be my favorite place in the world but I'll still jump to it's defense whenever anyone shit talks it. So wherever my life takes me, I'll always be proud that I have a home in Miami.
Peace out, fools!
-Yani
* it was recently brought to my attention that our comrades outside of Miami don't know what "The 305" is. Clearly, they don't listen to Pitbull. 305 is the cooler of the Miami area codes. Mr. 786 doesn't have the same ring to it. But yeah, 305 = Miami
**To be clear, the correct words are "imprimir" and "estacionar" LRN2SPANISH
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Graduation 2013
I wrote this post yesterday on the plane and it was, hands down, one of the most depressing things I've ever written. So...I'm gonna start from scratch. Unless you don't know me or never go on social media, you probably know that I just graduated from Boston University last week.
I was super excited to go back to Boston for graduation but once I got there, I realized that the end was here. That sounded super ridiculous but you get the picture. My 3 years of college had flown by and were ending right before my eyes. It was a weird feeling when I got off the plane because I knew that I wouldn't be back on campus as a student. As much as I dreaded the cold weather and sometimes hated the shit out of my classes, it was always a relief to be back in Boston. Coming from Miami, it was refreshing to be around non-judgmental people who are open minded and intelligent.
It might be hard to imagine, but in Miami I'm not always surrounded by smart people. I know, you're all shocked. Haha jokes.. For the most part, I grew up around racist Hipanics who are so closed minded and idiotic that they made Justin Bieber seem smart. Needless to say, I had to get out of there and I'm really glad I chose Boston. Boston is a city crawling with intelligent and interesting creatures and I could be whoever I wanted to be there. Not gonna lie, I missed my loud, rude ass Miamians from time to time but getting out and exploring New England was the best decision I've ever made. Too many young people get stuck in Miami and it's a shame because living somewhere else will tell you a lot about yourself. If there are any high schoolers reading this, I encourage all of you to go to college in a city that isn't your own. Take the risk and get out of your house. Hate it or love it, you'll come back a more independent person and that never hurt anyone.
Back to Boston. My first year was an adjustment period. When I got to BU it felt like sleep away camp for the first few months. I've never been to sleep away camp but I think I've watched enough movies to confidently make that assessment. So sleep away camp, then the classes were pretty easy, then I made a little group of friends, and did most of the stupid freshman shit that everyone does. Freshman year was okay but I knew I wanted more out of college. Stupidly, I wanted the college you see in the movies. I was a freshman, give me a break.
Sophomore year, I moved to South Campus (for all your non-BUers- South is the best and most lax place to live cus all the cool kids live there- it's also digusting). I finally had a job that didn't suck at the GSU (shout out to all my Mavens! and I restacked books at the library for a while before that) and I tried to make more friends and be a little bit more outgoing. Sophomore year is when I met my soulmate and the gay love of my life, Joey. He was in my first Prod 1 movie and that was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Sophomore year I also finally started taking production classes and shit that related to my major. I discovered that my true calling was television thanks to an awesome Understanding TV professor (shout out to Prof Jaramillo) and I was finally getting what I wanted out of BU. This year was pretty great. Lots of dancing and visitors made this year awesome. Sophomore year ended on a tough but awesome note, barely finishing a Prod 2 film with my group and putting on a pretty kick ass performace of Spring Awakening. Sadly, my best friend at BU transferred back home and wouldn't be coming back to BU for our junior year. This was bad news for me but my junior/senior year, still ended up being my all time favorite time at BU.
Junior/Senior year was academically, the easiest and socially, the most fun. I somehow pulled off straight A's in the fall semester even though I spent 80% of my time drunk. Wednesday nights became my token drinking nights since I had no class Thursday or Friday. I'd coerce my poor friend, Mariana, into drinking with me all the time and I spent more time drunk in her quad than I did in my own apartment. We have more drunken selfies then anyone I know and this bitch became one of my best friends at BU. Before I move on, I'd like to formally apologize to her roommates for being so loud and annoying. Let me talk about academics for a bit. My Prof, Micheal Loman, convinced me that not only did I want to go into television but I wanted to go into writing for television. Enough about academics. This semester, I was randomly placed with the most kick ass roommate a girl could ask for. Diana, if you're reading this, you are the shit. Fall semester of my junior/senior year, I feel like I really came into my own (I've never used this expression) and had tons of fun. I got closer with people from work as well as Trina (who you've heard about) and my two babies Joey and Mariana. Leaving Boston in December really sucked because I felt like I was finally having the college experience that I always wanted and it was ending too quickly. It wasn't fair but I knew that LA would be awesome.
You all know how much fun I had in LA and how I made a sweet ass group of friends. If you don't read my first post in this blog cus I don't wanna bore the others with this again. LA was awesome and I'm moving there asap. Moving on.
Junior/Senior year was so much fun that naturally, I didn't want to graduate. I wanted to get my diploma but I still have accepted the fact that I won't be a BU student anymore. I'll never get to complain about stupid new BU policies or shitty dining hall food again. While everyone was posting their schedules for next semester on Facebook, I was applying to jobs and mourning the end of my college career. I don't know where I'll be living in 2 weeks and part of me wishes it'd be in my shitty apartment in South. Don't get me wrong, I am excited at the prospects of being a real adult and getting my own place but I'm scared to move on with my life. The next few weeks will be vital to my future and we'll see where the world takes me. As of now, I plan on leaving to LA on or around May 30th. I have no money, job or apartment but dammit I won't let that stop me. I have faith that I'll be able to find something and I know that someday I will fulfill my dream of writing for television.
I can't end this post without talking about some regrets I have about my time at BU. I regret not going out to Allston more and witnessing the ratchetness first hand. A lot of people have a ton of Allston stories, I have a few that none of you will ever hear. Don't ask. I regret not paying attention in my Beaches and Shores class. It was my only C+ in class and it pisses me off every time I see Bitches and Slores on my transcript...Okay sorry, I don't and will never regret this. I had a blast making fun of Big Bird (our Prof whose name I never learned) with Mariana in this class and I'll take my C+, I deserved way worse. My last actual regret is not meeting a lot of you guys sooner. I met so many of my now good friends at the end of my college career and that's what I regret the most. We didn't have enough time together and hearing how we could have met sooner if I just talked to you in class or if I joined this group instead of that is frustrating. Luckily, a lot of you will be moving to LA eventually, so it could be worse. Just hurry up and move in with me sooner. :)
For everyone that helped me out during these past 3 years, I'd like to say thank you and I'll never forget the impact you had on me. Professors, the good ones anyway, you were encouraging and awesome and I don't know what I would've done if I didn't have you all in my life to help me through tough times. Friends, you've shown me that the time you've known someone doesn't determine their place in your heart. I know I made some lifelong friends so while I'm sad I won't see them as often, I know that our friendship will remain strong through the years. Boston, you showed me that no one can break your spirit no matter how hard they try. The terrorists lost when the runners didn't stop running and when the people ran into the fire to help the others. These are the kind of people who inhabit this great city. On my way to the catch the T to the airport, I saw a a man hand Melvin (the homeless man in Kenmore) a bag of Qdoba, smile and walk away. In that moment, I couldn't have been prouder to say I was part of the Boston community for 3 years. Boston, I love you. Thanks for all the great memories, you've set the bar high. Let's hope the rest of my life can live up to my time at Boston University.
Peace out,
Yani
I was super excited to go back to Boston for graduation but once I got there, I realized that the end was here. That sounded super ridiculous but you get the picture. My 3 years of college had flown by and were ending right before my eyes. It was a weird feeling when I got off the plane because I knew that I wouldn't be back on campus as a student. As much as I dreaded the cold weather and sometimes hated the shit out of my classes, it was always a relief to be back in Boston. Coming from Miami, it was refreshing to be around non-judgmental people who are open minded and intelligent.
It might be hard to imagine, but in Miami I'm not always surrounded by smart people. I know, you're all shocked. Haha jokes.. For the most part, I grew up around racist Hipanics who are so closed minded and idiotic that they made Justin Bieber seem smart. Needless to say, I had to get out of there and I'm really glad I chose Boston. Boston is a city crawling with intelligent and interesting creatures and I could be whoever I wanted to be there. Not gonna lie, I missed my loud, rude ass Miamians from time to time but getting out and exploring New England was the best decision I've ever made. Too many young people get stuck in Miami and it's a shame because living somewhere else will tell you a lot about yourself. If there are any high schoolers reading this, I encourage all of you to go to college in a city that isn't your own. Take the risk and get out of your house. Hate it or love it, you'll come back a more independent person and that never hurt anyone.
Back to Boston. My first year was an adjustment period. When I got to BU it felt like sleep away camp for the first few months. I've never been to sleep away camp but I think I've watched enough movies to confidently make that assessment. So sleep away camp, then the classes were pretty easy, then I made a little group of friends, and did most of the stupid freshman shit that everyone does. Freshman year was okay but I knew I wanted more out of college. Stupidly, I wanted the college you see in the movies. I was a freshman, give me a break.
Sophomore year, I moved to South Campus (for all your non-BUers- South is the best and most lax place to live cus all the cool kids live there- it's also digusting). I finally had a job that didn't suck at the GSU (shout out to all my Mavens! and I restacked books at the library for a while before that) and I tried to make more friends and be a little bit more outgoing. Sophomore year is when I met my soulmate and the gay love of my life, Joey. He was in my first Prod 1 movie and that was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Sophomore year I also finally started taking production classes and shit that related to my major. I discovered that my true calling was television thanks to an awesome Understanding TV professor (shout out to Prof Jaramillo) and I was finally getting what I wanted out of BU. This year was pretty great. Lots of dancing and visitors made this year awesome. Sophomore year ended on a tough but awesome note, barely finishing a Prod 2 film with my group and putting on a pretty kick ass performace of Spring Awakening. Sadly, my best friend at BU transferred back home and wouldn't be coming back to BU for our junior year. This was bad news for me but my junior/senior year, still ended up being my all time favorite time at BU.
Junior/Senior year was academically, the easiest and socially, the most fun. I somehow pulled off straight A's in the fall semester even though I spent 80% of my time drunk. Wednesday nights became my token drinking nights since I had no class Thursday or Friday. I'd coerce my poor friend, Mariana, into drinking with me all the time and I spent more time drunk in her quad than I did in my own apartment. We have more drunken selfies then anyone I know and this bitch became one of my best friends at BU. Before I move on, I'd like to formally apologize to her roommates for being so loud and annoying. Let me talk about academics for a bit. My Prof, Micheal Loman, convinced me that not only did I want to go into television but I wanted to go into writing for television. Enough about academics. This semester, I was randomly placed with the most kick ass roommate a girl could ask for. Diana, if you're reading this, you are the shit. Fall semester of my junior/senior year, I feel like I really came into my own (I've never used this expression) and had tons of fun. I got closer with people from work as well as Trina (who you've heard about) and my two babies Joey and Mariana. Leaving Boston in December really sucked because I felt like I was finally having the college experience that I always wanted and it was ending too quickly. It wasn't fair but I knew that LA would be awesome.
You all know how much fun I had in LA and how I made a sweet ass group of friends. If you don't read my first post in this blog cus I don't wanna bore the others with this again. LA was awesome and I'm moving there asap. Moving on.
Junior/Senior year was so much fun that naturally, I didn't want to graduate. I wanted to get my diploma but I still have accepted the fact that I won't be a BU student anymore. I'll never get to complain about stupid new BU policies or shitty dining hall food again. While everyone was posting their schedules for next semester on Facebook, I was applying to jobs and mourning the end of my college career. I don't know where I'll be living in 2 weeks and part of me wishes it'd be in my shitty apartment in South. Don't get me wrong, I am excited at the prospects of being a real adult and getting my own place but I'm scared to move on with my life. The next few weeks will be vital to my future and we'll see where the world takes me. As of now, I plan on leaving to LA on or around May 30th. I have no money, job or apartment but dammit I won't let that stop me. I have faith that I'll be able to find something and I know that someday I will fulfill my dream of writing for television.
I can't end this post without talking about some regrets I have about my time at BU. I regret not going out to Allston more and witnessing the ratchetness first hand. A lot of people have a ton of Allston stories, I have a few that none of you will ever hear. Don't ask. I regret not paying attention in my Beaches and Shores class. It was my only C+ in class and it pisses me off every time I see Bitches and Slores on my transcript...Okay sorry, I don't and will never regret this. I had a blast making fun of Big Bird (our Prof whose name I never learned) with Mariana in this class and I'll take my C+, I deserved way worse. My last actual regret is not meeting a lot of you guys sooner. I met so many of my now good friends at the end of my college career and that's what I regret the most. We didn't have enough time together and hearing how we could have met sooner if I just talked to you in class or if I joined this group instead of that is frustrating. Luckily, a lot of you will be moving to LA eventually, so it could be worse. Just hurry up and move in with me sooner. :)
For everyone that helped me out during these past 3 years, I'd like to say thank you and I'll never forget the impact you had on me. Professors, the good ones anyway, you were encouraging and awesome and I don't know what I would've done if I didn't have you all in my life to help me through tough times. Friends, you've shown me that the time you've known someone doesn't determine their place in your heart. I know I made some lifelong friends so while I'm sad I won't see them as often, I know that our friendship will remain strong through the years. Boston, you showed me that no one can break your spirit no matter how hard they try. The terrorists lost when the runners didn't stop running and when the people ran into the fire to help the others. These are the kind of people who inhabit this great city. On my way to the catch the T to the airport, I saw a a man hand Melvin (the homeless man in Kenmore) a bag of Qdoba, smile and walk away. In that moment, I couldn't have been prouder to say I was part of the Boston community for 3 years. Boston, I love you. Thanks for all the great memories, you've set the bar high. Let's hope the rest of my life can live up to my time at Boston University.
Peace out,
Yani
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
I look 12...I'M NOT
Alright, the next person that asks me how old I am and is shocked when I tell them I'm 20 years old is gonna get bitch slapped. Today, I was talking to some chick and this happened:
-early in the conversation-
me: Yeah, cus I'm going back to Boston for graduation in a few weeks blahblahblah
her: graduating from where?
me: Boston University
her: oh cool blahblahblah
-5 minutes later-
her: how old are you?
me: 20.
her: you're fucking kidding me!? You look so much younger
me in my head: BITCH I JUST TOLD YOU I'M GRADUATING COLLEGE! HOW OLD DID YOU THINK I WAS?! I'M NOT THE KID FROM FUCKING SMART GUY! YOU PROBABLY DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT SHOW IS CUS YOU'RE A BABY! WHO DOES THIS BITCH THINK SHE IS? ALRIGHT I'M GONNA STOP SCREAMING AT YOU IN MY HEAD NOW. God dammit. Conversation over.
me IRL: Nah, I'm 20. Pass the chips.
I've been asked so many times and sometimes it doesn't bother me but sometimes it makes me wanna cut a bitch, usually when it's followed by "well one day that'll be a good thing." Telling me that "one day" looking young will be a good thing but that doesn't make me feel better. I won't care how old I look at age 45, and if I do I'll be one of those pathetic people. Aging is just a part of life ladies and gents, time to get over it. It's always awkward to see real life Mrs. George's (Regina's mom) trying to be "hip" and "with it." When you're middle aged, no one cares if you're uncool. Shit, no one cares if you're uncool now but I get trying to fit in at this age because of peer pressure and all that jazz. But if you're middle aged and you're still giving in to peer pressure, you need to look at your life, look at your choices because no one cares how old you look and if they do, they aren't worth your time. Think of it this way, if I look 30 when I'm 45 everyone is gonna be like "damn that's the most boring 30 year old I've ever seen!" I'll be old and they'll think I'm boring. It's a lose/lose. So stop telling me that looking young in the future is gonna be a good thing, it makes you seem like a shallow asshole.
What the hell am I talking about? How did I get here? Is parking validated? Help!
My point is, next time you ask someone how old they are, use deductive reasoning first. If you just saw me get out of the drivers seat of a car, you know that I'm AT LEAST 16. If you see my BU hoodie, boom I just aged another two years, 18. If the hoodie looks old, add another year to that. When you hear quote Legally Blonde (a movie that is 12 years old), think to yourself hmm this girl had to have been at least 8 if she saw this in theatres and remembers it. When we have entire conversations about Boy Meets World, Rocket Power or All That, it's safe to assume that I was born in the early 90s. And WHEN I TELL YOU I'M GRADUATING COLLEGE, assume that I'm not 12/13 years old.
So next time you're pretty positive that someone is older than they look but aren't sure, don't ask them. Live forever wondering how old they were OR just facebook stalk them when you get home. If they hid the year they were born, (like I did for shits and giggles) look at when they graduate high school and go from there. Don't pretend you haven't fb stalked someone before...
Aight friends, thanks for putting up with my stupid little rant. I just have to accept the fact that when I'm 21, I'm gonna have to take my passport to the bars just to get in. -Sigh- Such is life.
Until we meet again.
-Yanz
PS. If you have a good poker face you could also just ask and then accept whatever answer they give you and move on.
-early in the conversation-
me: Yeah, cus I'm going back to Boston for graduation in a few weeks blahblahblah
her: graduating from where?
me: Boston University
her: oh cool blahblahblah
-5 minutes later-
her: how old are you?
me: 20.
her: you're fucking kidding me!? You look so much younger
me in my head: BITCH I JUST TOLD YOU I'M GRADUATING COLLEGE! HOW OLD DID YOU THINK I WAS?! I'M NOT THE KID FROM FUCKING SMART GUY! YOU PROBABLY DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT SHOW IS CUS YOU'RE A BABY! WHO DOES THIS BITCH THINK SHE IS? ALRIGHT I'M GONNA STOP SCREAMING AT YOU IN MY HEAD NOW. God dammit. Conversation over.
me IRL: Nah, I'm 20. Pass the chips.
I've been asked so many times and sometimes it doesn't bother me but sometimes it makes me wanna cut a bitch, usually when it's followed by "well one day that'll be a good thing." Telling me that "one day" looking young will be a good thing but that doesn't make me feel better. I won't care how old I look at age 45, and if I do I'll be one of those pathetic people. Aging is just a part of life ladies and gents, time to get over it. It's always awkward to see real life Mrs. George's (Regina's mom) trying to be "hip" and "with it." When you're middle aged, no one cares if you're uncool. Shit, no one cares if you're uncool now but I get trying to fit in at this age because of peer pressure and all that jazz. But if you're middle aged and you're still giving in to peer pressure, you need to look at your life, look at your choices because no one cares how old you look and if they do, they aren't worth your time. Think of it this way, if I look 30 when I'm 45 everyone is gonna be like "damn that's the most boring 30 year old I've ever seen!" I'll be old and they'll think I'm boring. It's a lose/lose. So stop telling me that looking young in the future is gonna be a good thing, it makes you seem like a shallow asshole.
What the hell am I talking about? How did I get here? Is parking validated? Help!
My point is, next time you ask someone how old they are, use deductive reasoning first. If you just saw me get out of the drivers seat of a car, you know that I'm AT LEAST 16. If you see my BU hoodie, boom I just aged another two years, 18. If the hoodie looks old, add another year to that. When you hear quote Legally Blonde (a movie that is 12 years old), think to yourself hmm this girl had to have been at least 8 if she saw this in theatres and remembers it. When we have entire conversations about Boy Meets World, Rocket Power or All That, it's safe to assume that I was born in the early 90s. And WHEN I TELL YOU I'M GRADUATING COLLEGE, assume that I'm not 12/13 years old.
So next time you're pretty positive that someone is older than they look but aren't sure, don't ask them. Live forever wondering how old they were OR just facebook stalk them when you get home. If they hid the year they were born, (like I did for shits and giggles) look at when they graduate high school and go from there. Don't pretend you haven't fb stalked someone before...
Aight friends, thanks for putting up with my stupid little rant. I just have to accept the fact that when I'm 21, I'm gonna have to take my passport to the bars just to get in. -Sigh- Such is life.
Until we meet again.
-Yanz
PS. If you have a good poker face you could also just ask and then accept whatever answer they give you and move on.
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