For You

So, I sat here on the night of the 4th of July, listening to the fireworks and other dogs barking at them, either in annoyance or fright, the one little bark I didn’t hear was yours. Every year on either 4th of July or New Years, you would hear the fireworks outside and crawl onto my lap shaking in fear while I cradle you like a baby. You would tremble until the noise stopped and go about your merry way. This year, I didn’t get that. I couldn’t. Because you had just left me. You reached the end of your precious little life and I watched you get carried away in a towel and carrying case at the vet’s. Now i’m left here with my thoughts and memories of the decade you gave to me as my best friend who I took care of and protected like my child. My body is tired, my emotions are drained and my heart is hurting. I can’t help but dwell on the site I saw when I found you on the couch after you passed and all the memories that having you in my life brought. This is a reflection of that.

I remember when we first got you from the shelter 10 years ago. You were a 3-week old puppy. I was just a sophomore in High School. We brought you home and you peed everywhere. You were a handful but a cute little fucker who I couldn’t help but never get mad at because of your stare and little Chihuahua demeanor. You were a tough little bastard too who growled at anyone who irritated you or tried to mess with you. You kinda made me realize that Chihuahuas are naturally angry. You did annoy me from time to time with your loud, non-stop barking waking me up in the morning (better than any alarm ever did) and by pissing and shitting all over the place, but my love for you never changed. I always fed you on time, made sure your water was always fresh and bathed you when necessary. It was a part of my every day life and I never missed a step.

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It’s going to be weird for a while not having you around. I still expect to hear you barking at some point. I still expect to hear your little footsteps walking into the kitchen while i’m cooking to stare at me to see what i’m making. I’ll always miss your curious little stare that you almost always had on your face, whether it be to see what I was eating or what certain noises were. Those two little ears sticking up was one of your cutest traits that i’ll always remember.

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Let’s not forget about your little doll. That thing you carried around everywhere that I always had to help you look for. In between the couch cushions, under covers, under the bed, wherever you left it, you always seemed to misplace it and I had to help you find it while you sniffed and snooped everywhere. You loved that little thing like it were your child. It was adorable. I was always happy to help you look or it.

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Things weren’t always easy, I remember when our other two dogs passed, Nikko and Tazz, you were crushed. You didn’t understand why they left. I did all I could to make up for it by spending as much time with you as I could. I was busy a lot, but I always made time. I sat on the couch and stuck my arms out so you can run up on my lap and lay on my chest for a while. I’ll never forget the way you would rest your little head on me, even when I just stuck my arm out under your chin.

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There were other times where you’d be on the couch, not wanting to be bothered and i’d kneel in front of you and you’d growl at me but still lick my hand or face when I put it near yours. You were a weirdo, but I loved you all the same. You were a unique little one with your own traits and tropes that set you apart from any other dog we’ve had. To say i’ll miss you would be an understatement. You were one of the few things that I could count on to be there every morning when I woke up and every night as I slept. You were one of the only constants that kept me sane no matter how much I stressed or how under the weather I was. That’s how it was from the moment we took you out of your shelter cage in 2007 to the time you passed on the other day. You made it that way, and made my life just a little easier.

Thank you gracing the last ten years of my life with your precious presence. You gave me a reason to work hard and not be so down on myself all the time because at the end of the day, you were there. I had you and I didn’t need much else. I know I wasn’t a perfect owner, but I hope I gave you a good enough life to go in peace. You were one of the things that mattered to me the most besides music and all the other things I talk about on this blog. I knew you weren’t going to be around forever, but I made sure every second you were here mattered and nurtured you to the best of my ability. And if another one comes along, I promise you, i’ll make sure I give them as good a life as I gave you and will love and care for them with as much passion as I did for you. It won’t just be for them, it will be for you too.

Goodbye, my sweet prince. I’m sorry I couldn’t cure you of what you were suffering from, but it’s all gone and you’re safe now. May you rest in peace and forever live on in spirit. You were my best friend and I love you.

Until next time.

-Scvm

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Hating My Own Reflection

I’ve been wanting to write about this for a while now, but had some trouble thinking of the right words to convey it. Plus this has been a busy, crappy week, plus Thanksgiving. So sorry for the lateness with this one. In fact, Thanksgiving has given me even more inspiration for it.

I’m sure we’ve all had days where we’re insecure about something. Whether it be the way we look, how we do things, certain habits or personality traits we possess, art we create (music, writing or whatever) and so on. Days where we think “you know what, maybe i’m not that talented” or “maybe i’m not as intelligent as I think I am” or, on a deeper level, “maybe i’m a piece of shit”. Sometimes we feel ugly or mundane or idle, sometimes we question what the hell we’re doing with our lives, sometimes we wonder what the people in our lives really think about us, or what strangers see when we walk down the street. Now for some, that may be a once in a while thing, but for others, like myself, it’s every goddamn day. I hope this doesn’t come off as a ‘whiny’ post or whatever, but just bare with me here.

I’ve always hated the way I look for the most part. I know I was never the best looking fellow in town and I never thrived to be, but every now and then comes the wonderful moment of taking lovely family photos that i’ll never see because looking at them would make me cringe. Or the small instance of walking past a mirror and catching a glimpse of myself. Ahhh yes (most effective when wearing a dumb casual family-gathering outfit). As I said, Thanksgiving this year gave me more inspiration I needed to write this piece. Other sources of inspiration include taking a ‘selfie’ (God, I hate that word) that I think at first is okay, and ending up cringing at it at second glance. It’s kind of a vicious cycle in a way. It’s maddening.

Another thing about myself that makes me want to write this is something a lot of people on the internet claim to have nowadays, but I can actually attest to for myself. The dreaded ‘everybody hates me’ syndrome. Call it social anxiety, awkwardness, paranoia or whatever the fuck you may. I’m not going to self-diagnose myself because i’m not an idiot, but it is something I’ve dealt with for years now. Self-confidence was never one of my strong suits to begin with, but in recent years, as I continue to lead the hermit life (by choice, fuck people), It gets harder and harder just to go to the damn grocery store to pick up milk. I get invited to a few local shows here and there (most of which suck, because the music scene here sucks) but actually throwing on my hoodie and going has become a rarity. Is it BECAUSE I barely ever go out? Is it BECAUSE of my aforementioned insecurities? Or is it because of something deeper, like existential dread? Fuck if I know, but it’s a hole I definitely need to work my way out of. If I can at this point.

Will this be something i’ll get over? Maybe. Will it be anytime soon? Doubt it. Again, this isn’t meant to be a whiny, bitchy post, just a personal analysis of sorts. I criticize people for a lot of shit, but social anxiety isn’t one of them because I’ve been there. Being insecure isn’t one of them because I’ve been there. It’s ruined relationships and led to a lot of awkward interactions. It sucks. But again, it’s something I have to work on by myself.

This is just something I’ve wanted to talk about on here real quick. I’m not gonna make this a massive rant (more of those coming, best believe). Just something I had to get out onto these pages. I tried to word this best I could. So hopefully i’ve conveyed it in a good enough way. Social anxiety sucks. Hating the way you look sucks, but so does life as a whole. So fuck it, right? Right.

At least the music I listen to is as ugly as I am.

Until next time.

-Scvm

My Real Home

As I sit here eating post-Halloween discount candy (yeah, still) and looking at some couple month old pictures on my Instagram, I figure, now that I have this blog, i’ll talk a little about this, because why not? And while I talk about this, i’ll try not to sound overly-nostalgic. This is really more of a reflection type deal. So i’ll try my best to keep it as such.

My grandfather passed away back in December, the week of Christmas. It was a hectic week to say the least. Sunday – his passing, Monday – Having to buy a suit, Tuesday – the wake, Wednesday – the funeral, Thursday – Christmas Eve, Friday – Christmas Day, Saturday and Sunday – Bleh. After that, we spent January, February and a little bit of March cleaning out and renovating his and my grandmother’s house, which I spent the first 2 years of my life living in and the last 23 years of it visiting all the time. A lot of memories lie there in that house, as well as many other places in Brooklyn. I moved out here to Staten Island with my parents when I was 3. Being a naive kid and teenager, I never really pondered how much I love and feel I belong in Brooklyn. Not until the last 4 years, I would say has that really hit me. Especially now after all this.

This past August my grandmother died as well, after suffering from Alzheimer’s for the last few years. The week she passed was almost a rerun of the week my grandfather did. It was just as rough and we held the wake and funeral at the same place. It took some time, but not too long after that I realized that there was no going back to that house again, because there’s nothing there anymore. It’s a pretty unsettling notion once it sets in, but it’s a fact we must accept. I guess that’s what comes with getting older and realizing shit. Well, here’s where it really sets in. While at my grandmother’s wake, I was sitting outside with my brother and a close friend of my cousin’s and I told them about how I want to one day move back to Brooklyn, but the problem is that it’s unfathomably expensive just to live out there. Which is true, in fact, Brooklyn was recently named the most unaffordable housing market in America. In the fucking entire country. That isn’t surprising for a city like New York, but still quite an accomplishment.

Now, I don’t have any desire to own a fucking two-three story HOUSE. I never did and probably never will. All I really care for is an apartment to myself. I have no desire to ever get married and certainly NO desire to ever have any children, and I give no shits about having anything fancy or anything other than food, a computer, music and a car. I was never a materialistic person and never will be. So an apartment is all I need. Once again, however, the more time goes by and the more property value rises, even that may become a faint reality. I can accept that if I have to, but i’ll always feel like I belong in that city. It’s where I was born and where my roots are. Again, I don’t mean to sound too nostalgic, this is just something I thought i’d give a quick piece on because it was on my mind. Brooklyn is my real home. New York is my home. I understand why many don’t like it. It is ridiculously populated and full of assholes (me included), but I just can’t picture myself anywhere else. So i’m glad I have those memories and the history that I do, and even if money gets in the way, the truth won’t. I belong to NYC.

That’s pretty much it. Just some chocolate-fuled thoughts to filter out tonight. I’ll leave those pictures that I have here to look at (my header image included), because why not? I took them throughout last year and this year. They’re not the best quality but they’re from my shitty phone, so what else would you expect?

So there. That’ll be all the useless rambiling for today. ‘Till next time.

-Scvm