Tell Someone You Care About Them

It’s really beautiful so many people are sharing their stories of battling depression. We so easily forget humanity is fragile and sometimes our minds can be deadly if we get too lost in them.

I think it’s awful that it takes the death of a celebrity to discuss these poignant topics that revolve around mental health and subsequently drug abuse/addiction.

This country is notorious for ignoring the painful reality that most of society is depressed and a lot of people, though surrounded by others, feel utterly lonely and disconnected. We live in a society that celebrates monetary success and scrutinizes mental illness with judgment and disgust.

That’s why it is so imperative that we look out for each other amidst this culture that encourages selfishness and carelessness. We need to be more mindful of each other and other’s feelings. Depression is debilitating, so letting someone know you care about them is imperative. You never know who around you is suffering from whatever may be going on in their lives.

Take the time out to tell someone you care about them today. Hell, do it everyday.

Dat Single Life

I am always fascinated by articles I read about dating nowadays. It’s fun to see that other people are observing this painfully intricate dance of pretending and indifference that has become normalcy for courtship. I’m not sure when this change occurred. I like to think it happened right when I graduated college because that’s just the kind of luck I have and how lovely it would be to not only be thrown into the financial crisis but a nonchalant dating scene as well. Double whammy.

The article that made me want to expand on my experience in the human hustle is this thought catalogue article. Not only does it outline everything I find deplorable about dating, but it reveals a very true and sad undercurrent of fear and insecurity that has manifested itself in the worst ways. Most of those “trends” are a direct result of protection. Nobody wants to get hurt. However, in some cases heartbreak is inevitable. I think people need to stop being so terrified to experience something that brings us together. Breakups are awful, but so is letting someone you actually care about get away in hopes of preserving your feelings that have gotten hurt anyway because that person thinks you don’t give a shit about them, do you see this awful cycle? Showing someone you like them and want to see them shouldn’t be this entirely shameful action where you feel pathetic for wanting to see someone you like. Oh, especially if the feelings are mutual. It’s beyond me why people can only hang out a few times a month so as not to seem too interested in each other. Ridiculous. Honestly, I wonder if it’s because we’re all basically told everyday that our attention spans are continuously waning. Maybe that’s where the apprehension comes in. If you hang out with someone too much you’ll start to get bored. Well then isn’t it better to happen sooner rather than spending months figuring it all out? I’m rambling.

There was this other thing I saw on Imgur that was a screenshot of some dude trying RELENTLESSLY trying to speak with a lady he was kind of desperately enamored by. Though the way she dealt with the situation was not to tell him she wasn’t interested, but to use one of those popular dating tactics of ignoring someone like they’re one of those ghosts in Super Mario and if hold  Y and down Mario turns into that statue and the ghost(s) won’t see you. The pathetic guy is the ghost in that incredibly convoluted scenario. Anyway, all this girl had to do was say, NOT INTERESTED, instead of allowing this dude to continuously message her for months on end.( I won’t get into how incredibly strange it is these kids are called “thirsty.” It sounds super gross. Thirsty for what!?) It seems like one of those situations where maybe the recipient of these messages was getting I dunno a bit of an ego boost from this poor guy? It’s awful to put things like that on the internet, because people have feelings. 

What I’ve been meaning to say, before going off on many tangents, is we shouldn’t be so scared to get hurt and we shouldn’t be so hesitant to show how we feel. I’ve totally witnessed and embarrassingly participated in perpetuating these “trends,” and I can say wholeheartedly say they suck and rarely lead to positive results. That’s just me, though. Also, I’m pretty positive I have no idea what I’m doing 98% of the time. The whole “dating game” has completely eluded me. Rarely do I find myself excited about potential fellows for those very trends I can barely keep up with and follow. Though, I must say I am totally content with “dat single life” right now. 

The Romantic Gesture: Why I'm Not So Down

All these over-the-top proposals that have pooped popped up in the last few months/year have really made me think. After getting over the initial disbelief shock of someone being so thoughtful and caring (to the point of nausea), I began to think about how irritating it is that these grand gestures are supposed to be a measurement of love and/or devotion. Hey, maybe it is for them, but then I thought about the innumerable years I have been subjected to this notion that a single gesture can nullify any outstanding problem a couple may have had or that was the only way to show somebody you love them.

Looking at movies and TV when a dude or cheats on his girlfriend or wife or whatever, doing something super shitty to them but then using his/her masterful creativity and cunning wins them back with a giant sing along in Times Square or by crafting huge signs that say, “i love you,” out of pigs’ blood rose petals. My qualm with these unrealistic gestures is just that. They are unrealistic and set these dramatic standards for relationships that are neither important or useful. Being in a relationship is so much more than what we as outsiders comprehend as a loving relationship based on that Youtube video that got “mad likes.” A relationship is something special. Something that doesn’t need a massive romantic gesture or the approval of strangers. It doesn’t need to be publicized or recorded for anyone but the participants. 

Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Who is this angry, resentful, jealous bitch?” I assure you I am none of those things. Maybe slightly resentful (the most romantic gesture I can think of involves friends bringing over a bottle of whiskey to share before we stumble out of my apartment to a bar just to get further disappointed by the opposite sex) but I’m mostly happy for these people who are getting married because they love each other and all that jazz. What upsets me is the feeling these gestures inspire in others. There are people out there who simply cannot afford to impress their significant other by renting out the Hubbell Space Telescope  and writing their proposal in the stars using lasers and alien technology (future husband take note, I will not accept a proposal any other way). This does not mean they are any less capable of love and affection. It just means their priorities are elsewhere. Maybe instead of that grand gesture a wife-to-be has started helping her future wife/husband pay off those infernal student loans or a future husband is putting money aside for an adventurous holiday in Brazil with his future husband/wife. 

All I’m saying is these gestures seem to be a reflection of our societal predisposed inclinations to think bigger is better. The more expensive, elaborate the gift the more that recipient means to the giver. You know, that whole capitalist industrial complex or whatever. I may be interpreting these reactions harshly (or inaccurately), but I can’t help how I feel, so I won’t. After getting older and painstakingly tearing myself away learning that Disney movies and romantic comedies were not indicative of what real love is, I started to get angry at this perpetual notion of vapid love. Oh, but that is a whole ‘nother can o’ worms. 

I’m out.

For My Grandfather

My grandfather is dying and not sure what I’m feeling besides incredibly sad and slightly nauseated. It’s not like this is sudden or unimaginable, but just because I knew this time would come does not make it altogether easy. I remember when I was little he would pick me up from kindergarten and we would walk home together after school. Outside, near the entrance of my elementary school there was a snow cone stand and he would always get us snow cones to battle the sweltering temperatures of Miami while he asked me about school and I really felt he was genuinely interested in what I had to say. I would excitedly tell him that I could count to ten and he would be aghast. Then he would tell me, “Now count to ten in Spanish, like I taught you.” And I would. I would excitedly yell the numbers like it was our own private language. He would laugh and give me a hug and I believed at that moment I was invincible.

My grandfather died a few days ago and it still feels surreal.

I remember….

We walked hand in hand and he told me about his childhood in Trinidad. He would lecture me and my cousins on the importance of wearing shoes around the house, not sitting too close to the television, and always making sure there was ample light when we were reading so we didn’t strain our eyes. My cousins and I headed these warnings most of the time, but never really understood their importance. 

I remember before going to Costco with my grandmother my sister and I would anxiously asking her whether or not Poppy was coming. Poppy was what I we called my grandfather for as long as I can remember. To this day I am not sure where it came from, all I know is it just felt right. Anyway, after inquiring about his presence and receiving the correct answer (“yes”) we would drive up to Costco with smiles on our faces- knowingly. Though Costco trips were never a burdensome adventure, when Poppy was there it was pure magic. Ma, our grandmother, would go about shopping and my sister and I would follow Poppy to the candy aisle (his favorite aisle after the ice cream section), where he would pick out a hefty box of chocolate then ask us what we wanted, laughing jovially. Our eyes lit up and we would chose another box, our mouths watering our tummies rumbling (probably in anticipation of the gluttonous act that would take place immediately after this Costco trip).

I remember being “put on punishment” and being banned “downstairs” (there was a split level living room where there was a big TV, a few couches, a chair, and most importantly, “Poppy’s chair”). I was told to sit there for an indefinite amount of time which would make any six year old miserable. Poppy was always watching Animal Planet when this happened and I would eventually stop fighting my anger and annoyance for being pulled away from my cousins and video games to focus on how incredible it was that ant colonies were able to build so many lengthy, intricate little tunnels even though they were so tiny. I learned that the wild did not solely consist of Disney animals singing about longing to be human, but filled with a necessary reality of survival, death and triumph. Watching the baby gazelle escape the tigers was magnificent. Seeing the mother be torn to shreds was definitely a bit traumatic.

I remember when Poppy would go on his walks and I would always wonder where he was going and how far he was walking. With cane in hand he would set out and I would watch him go through the screen gate and disappear. Sometimes he would return with goodies and other times with a look of fulfillment and relaxation. 

I remember when he was starting to get sick and the twinkle in his eyes began to dim and his witty retorts were replaced with questions about where he was or who he was speaking with.

I remember having to speak louder and feeling I was yelling at him, but he still could not hear that I told him I loved him. 

I remember seeing him shrink from a mountain to an unimaginably slender hill.

I remember wishing there was something I could do.

I remember hoping that he would at least have his memories no matter how far away they may have seemed to him.

I remember hoping he knew that I loved him, even though I didn’t say it nearly enough.

He’s gone now and though I know he is in a better place, that will never stop me from missing him and remembering his smile and his hearty laugh. 

I love you, Poppy. May you rest in peace.