From when we were young

Hot Chocolate I’ve Tried NYC

*Bolded are the ones I like*

1. Vosges (Thick drinking chocolate literally liquid chocolate)
2. Eataly (tiny cup of thick drinking chocolate almost pudding-like)
3. Laduree (milky frothy like a deluxe hot cocoa
4. Zabars (milky but deep chocolatey taste)
5. Le Pain Quotidien (tastes like dark chocolate with milk not sweet)
6. Starbuck (tastes like dark chocolate with milk but a little sweet, not dimensional)
7. Dunkin Donuts (sweet and milky reminds me of preschool pajama parties the where they served hot chocolate with marshmallows in those paper cups with winged handles)
8. Balthazar (nothing special, tastes like Starbucks or Le Pain Quotidien milk with cocoa powder tasting)
9. Fresco Gelateria in the East Village (milky and frothy similar to Dunkin Donuts and Laduree)
10. City Bakery (Thick and Pudding-like with that infamous marshmallow…drink slowly otherwise you might barf)
11. 2Beans (thick drinking chocolate…I don’t know why I don’t like it I think it just tastes like a bar of melted dark chocolate and the cup is too big given the heaviness of the hot chocolate)

How to Annoy Me

Ask me the same question 5 times after I already answered it sufficiently at least 3 of the times because you’re projecting your own life experiences and related traumas and “traumas”


Especially if you’re at least 2 decades older than me.

Rejection Letter No. 1

Ok, not the first rejection letter I’ve gotten EVER (Hellooo college applications), but today I got my first rejection letter from a writing contest.  I feel invigorated that I didn’t crumble and die, bolstered by the reminder that I need to fail 50 more times.  That sentence feels weird.

With the fear that I will consecutively fail 50 more times.

With the tiniest sad thorn/indignant thorn in my side, but what was wrong? Why wasn’t that brilliant?

Score: 0 for 1

We* Raise Children Only For Them To Become Traitors

We* as in society, the village

I feel like this is a gutsy first “essay” post, when my facetiousness isn’t evident.  But I do mean what I mean, just left out the good parts.

Everyone loves babies (except for the people who don’t like babies).  They’re chubby and soft and adorable and easily entertained (except when they’re crying their heads off).  Old people dote on them, showering them with treats and toys and funny faces and babies easily express their gratitude, unadulterated enthusiasm whenever the candy-giver and game-player shows his/her face.  Old people mistake this for singular affection and appreciation, a magical connection.  When really all the babies like you for is because you give them what they want.  A juicy strawberry, a riveting game of peek-a-boo.  You’ve merely domesticated a feral animal and she now knows to come to you for sustenance.

People swarm other people who have babies, raucously spitting out baby talk, inquiring about weight, sleeping habits, and diet, it all feels like a real and flowing conversation.  But then the baby has to be put down for a nap, and all the grownups realize they really didn’t have anything in common after all.

Babies grow up to be children, children have specific and contemporaneous cultural needs.  Children are people, conscious of social hierarchies and relationships.  That toy that might have been adorable and treasured is now embarrassingly outdated.  That sweater is too frilly and thick, all they wanted was a t-shirt from Target with the latest Disney fad plastered on the front.  Or they didn’t want toys or clothes at all, don’t you know the newest smart phone renders everything else obsolete?

Children are polite to old people because everyone tells them to be.  They’re friendly but condescending, egotistically relishing that their mere presence is a whole lot more important to the old people than vice versa.  Even as children grow into young adults and adults who appreciate the lives of old people, it is more out of guilt than genuine yearning.  Even when younger people appreciate the wisdom of experience, there’s a bit of humoring involved as the roles of caretaker and taken-care-of  are reversed. A close relationship with an elder becomes something to outwardly boast about rather than inwardly treasure.  An emblem of a good soul to pin on your lapel.