This gig was important to Tanner and Dani, as this was the first time Dani was performing alongside her boyfriend and her best friend; me. For years, we tried to start a band, but with school and being the girlfriend of an up-and-coming actress, our plans never really took off. It wasn’t until after Kalia broke up with me last year that I finally said, “let’s fucking do this!” Not knowing something else was now occupying my mind.
A black sheep named Rosie Delgado.
I snapped out of my thought when I hear Dani yell my name out. I looked up and I wasn’t surprised that Dani looked pissed as fuck.
“Dude, you’re playing the wrong track,” Dani complained.
“Sorry, sorry,” I said, queueing the right track. Dani turned back around to face the microphone in the studio space. I play the song, in which Dani starts to sing as Tanner plays the guitar. Tanner and I met in high school; we were both in the same band class. I was actually the one that introduced Dani to Tanner during our senior year of high school, and the rest is history. I hate to admit it, but they are good for each other. If only love came that easy for me.
I stopped the track midway, which made both Dani and Tanner turn around.
“Tan, tune your guitar a bit; that last one before the chorus is a little off,” I said. Tanner went to sit down and tune the strings on his guitar, and Dani began to walk toward my direction, close to the DJ booth.
“How were you able to hear that with your mind clearly on something else?” Dani asked. I rolled my eyes, looking back down at my laptop.
“You fail to realize this is literally all I do,” I said. “Also, I’m fine.”
“Mhm,” Dani said. “How’s everything going with Kalia?” I looked up at Dani, knowing she knows exactly what’s going on with Kalia.
“She’s fine,” I said nonchalantly. “She’s starting a press tour for the movie she’s in.”
“Oh,” Dani added. “So I guess you’re going to see her while she’s on her New York stop of her tour?” Dani knows all the right buttons to push.
“If she visits, then sure,” I said with a tight mouth. I didn’t want her knowing that she was getting me mad. Thankfully, Tanner walked toward us to tell us that he was ready. Dani slowly walked away from the booth, back to start the rehearsal again. Thank God.
…
Rosie had left before I woke up the night after we hooked up. Ugh, I hate calling it that. I thought that maybe she had moved to the living room to sleep or something. She wasn’t anywhere to be found. I had tried calling her phone to see if maybe she went back home or something. She didn’t pick up.
“C’mon, Roe,” I said to the phone as her voicemail began to play. I hung up the phone, worried about Rosie’s whereabouts. I was upset that she would just leave and not tell me where she was going. I was hurt that she literally hit it and quit it.
I walked out of my room to hear the keys unlock the door of the apartment. Of course, my folks came at the perfect time: when the house is a mess from yesterday night, and when I’m panicking trying to get in touch with Rosie.
“Micah?” I hear my mom call out. I walked into the living room area, trying to play it cool.
“Hey, Mom,” I said, leaning on the kitchen counter. Reagan and Dylan entered the house behind my mom, walking straight towards their room. “How’d it go?”
“Dylan had fun, Reagan was a different story,” my mom said, taking off her coat to hang it up.
“Where’s dad?”
“He went to your brother’s to help him with a project,” she said, finally taking a look at the house. “Micah, why does this house look like this?” I looked around, nervous she was going to spot something before I did.
“Sorry, I was gonna start cleaning before you guys got home,” I said, looking at the time on the stove. It’s 2pm. “I guess I thought it was earlier than it really was.”
“Please clean this place up before I start dinner later,” she said, walking to the bathroom. I began to pick up the clothes from the floor until I instantly remembered. “Salem Micah Kamalani!”
Fuck. The ashtray.
…
“I have to get going,” I said, unplugging the equipment from the speaker. Both Dani and Tanner turned around.
“What? We just started,” Dani mentioned.
“I told y’all; my mom has been on my ass,” I said as I closed my laptop. “I was even lucky she let me do something other than chores.”
“Dude, you know you’re almost 21; how the fuck are you getting grounded?”
“When she finds the fucking ashtray on the bathroom floor,” I said, annoyed at Dani. I packed my things up and started to leave the studio space. “I’ll see you guys on campus.” I walked out of the space and didn’t look back at them. The truth of the matter is that it was more than just the ashtray. Yeah, she had found the ashtray and she had a fit about it. What truly sent her over the edge was the fact that she had found the condom wrapper on her bedside. The one I used when Rosie and I hooked up.
I couldn’t stop yawning the next morning. It was brutal since this was our final rehearsal before we had constant shows coming up in the next week. The choreography became second nature to me at this point. Every time the music would play, it’s like every dancer immediately dances the routines due to the muscle memory.
As I begin lacing up my pointe shoes, I see another set of torn up pointe shoes in front of me. I looked up to see it was Aimee.
“Girl, you need to get another pair of pointe shoes,” I teased.
“Girl, you need to keep your eyes on your own damn pointe shoes,” Aimee snapped back, laughing as she sat in the ground next to me. “These bad boys make me dance better than I normally would.”
“I bet,” I said, smiling as I tied my own points shoes. I did a big yawn afterwards, and of course, Aimee had to say something.
“Damn, you didn’t sleep last night?” Aimee asked. “You know we had an early rehearsal today.”
“I got home late last night from my cousin’s place,” I said, finishing up with a tight knot. “She and her boyfriend are leaving for Seoul today, so I wanted to see her before she did.”
“Weren’t you supposed to stay over or something?” Aimee asked once again. “At least that’s what Sahim said yesterday.”
“You spoke to Sahim?” I asked. It sort of took me by surprise that Aimee would go to Sahim to ask about me.
“Yeah,” Aimee said. “I was trying to see if you wanted to come to my room and hang out with me and Maurice, but when I knocked and I didn’t get an answer, I assumed you were with Sahim for the night.” I shook my head and laughed; Aimee always thought I was with Sahim.
“Well,” I began to say. Before I was able to say anything else, Aimee shot her head up and got closer to me, waiting to hear some gossip. “He did come with me last night.”
“Oh?” Aimee simply responded. “Introducing him to family now?”
“It’s not even like that,” I dismissed quickly. “He was my ride there technically.”
“So wait,” Aimee said as she readjusted herself. “He was your ride, but he was back at the hotel before you apparently.” I looked up at Aimee, not really knowing what to say. I didn’t want her finding out the truth; that Jamie was the one that dropped me off last night.
“My cousin drove me on her way to the airport,” I said, hoping it was convincing enough. It wasn’t long after that I see Sahim walking into the rehearsal space with a cup of coffee in hand, toward Aimee and I.
“Good morning, ladies,” Sahim greeted as he walked closer to us. “Grace,” Sahim said as he handed me the cup of coffee.
“What am I; a ghost?” Aimee said to Sahim. “Where’s my coffee?”
“Still at the cafe,” Sahim teased. Aimee rolled her eyes and started to get up from the ground.
“Well I guess I’m going to get me a damn coffee myself,” Aimee said as she walked away from us. I looked up at Sahim as he sat on the ground next to me.
“You should’ve gotten Aimee one,” I began to say. “Now I’m going to have to hear her all throughout rehearsal now.”
“Well tell her the next one will be on me then,” Sahim concluded. “Heard you got in late last night.”
“Is that why you got me coffee today?” I asked, taking a sip from the coffee. Sahim has been bringing me coffee long enough to know how I perfectly like it. It was the littlest things that made me smile.
“I always get you coffee,” Sahim said. “Today, there’s a shot of expresso.” I take a sip of the coffee and immediately taste the shot. Sahim laughs at the face I make after drinking it.
“Well, that’ll most definitely wake me up,” I said. I looked up at Sahim and smiled. “How’d you know I got in late last night?”
“Oh,” Sahim simply started to say. “Aimee was looking for you yesterday. I told her you were at Skylar’s.” I was a little confused. Did he see me come in with Jamie last night? Is he not telling me? I immediately put the coffee down on the floor beside me, getting ready to get up from the ground.
“I should start heading to the stage,” I said, trying to not show any conflicting emotion on my face. I didn’t want Sahim to think he said or did anything wrong; he didn’t. I did, letting Jamie drive me back to my hotel just hours after Sahim met the guy.
“You got this, tiny dancer,” Sahim simply said, taking the coffee from the ground. He smiled before walking away. This time, his smile kills me in more ways bad than good.
To say that 2014 was ten years ago is truly baffling to me. Like, why does 2014 feels like it was only just a few years ago? It’s crazy, I am feeling nostalgic, and here’s this year’s installment of:
Where the hell was Liz this time 10 years ago?
In 2014, I was officially leaving my teenage years behind to now enter the next decade of my life: my twenties. I can’t lie; I feel like I was excited to leave my teenage years behind me. Up to this point, the last couple of years were rough for me, whether that was the transition from high-school to college or trying my best to heal from the trauma that still affected me at that point. I was ready to go into this new stage of my life, even if I had no idea where or what I wanted to go in the long-run.
I didn’t do much for my birthday this year since it fell on a weekday and, well, I was an unemployed college student currently in between semesters. Speaking of which; I was a sophomore in college that just finished the Fall semester and boy, it was a hard semester. I still had a couple of general education classes I needed to take before I was able to begin taking all my major coursework. Let’s just say that I was a pretty average student, but this one Biology class was my first and only D grade I ever received. By the time the Spring semester started, I was now traveling to and from my college 5 days a week. Ironically, it was one my favorite semesters I had as I vividly remember spending my breaks in between classes at the library watching Criminal Minds on Netflix every Friday afternoon. I was also wrapping up all of the gen ed requirements I needed and started to take the writing courses needed for my English Writing concentration degree.
My first writing class was “Craft of Creative Writing”, which was basically just an overview of the four genres of writing that my college taught and specialized in. We all sat in a circle, having to write for different prompts in different styles of writing. I remember this being one of the very first times I shared my story about the trauma I carried from high school. I wrote a short narrative piece in the point of view of that girl that lived through that trauma day-by-day, hour-by-hour. After sharing my piece, it was nice to have a group of writers to talk to about the piece but to also hear some of them say “you don’t have to carry that on you anymore. You took responsibility of that situation and that’s all you can do. Don’t punish yourself for something that you should be forgiving yourself for.” I think that was one of the first few moments where I truly began to finally heal from that part of my life, although it would be years after this moment that I finally let it go and let it live in the past.
In addition to that, I also got into screenwriting! After being heavily a part of the fandom for the true-crime drama, The Killing, I had found an appreciation for creative writing in a way that I hadn’t thought about before, which was character development. I can go on and on about how much I loved Sarah Linden and Stephen Holder as characters of this damn show, but to keep it short and simple: 2014 was when the last season of The Killing aired exclusively on Netflix and I wanted to write the way that Veena Sud wrote these characters! I knew I wanted my first tattoo to be something related to the show in the long-run, so when the series finale gave us the infamous “home was us” line that Linden tells Holder, I just knew that was it.
2014 Liz also had long hair for the first time since having to cut it short after bleach damage in 2012. I rocked the trendy ombre look for most of the year until I finally caved in and became a blonde; this time being on the more natural looking side. I can’t lie, I totally miss those long hair days, and I hope that one day in the future I’m able to get my hair to be that long again, but it took a lot of patience and hair care to even get my hair healthy looking again. I guess I’ll tell you how that went when we come back next year to talk about Liz in 2015…
And just to take you back in time, here were some of the things that I remember happening in 2014:
Ariana Grande was taken the music industry by storm in preparation on her sophomore album, My Everything.
“First things first, I’m the realest” was the one thing everyone was singing and/or saying it every chance they had.
Kylie Jenner was deemed as the “it girl” with her teal color dip-dyed bob haircut and liquid lipstick makeup.
Grunge-pastel was a thing. It was inspired by Tumblr. Yes, everyone at this point had one to reblog six gifs and dumb aesthetic looking photos.
Boy and girl groups were becoming popular once more after the success of One Direction. Fifth Harmony was a product of that popularity in the music industry.
The biggest movie blockbuster to come out this year was Disney’s Frozen.
Barack Obama was two years into his second term as the President of the United States.
Becoming a YouTube creator was everyone’s aspiration, whether it was in gaming, lifestyle, or in makeup.
Sheesh, I still can’t believe it’s been ten years already.
It was cold on this particular afternoon. It had rained the night before and the freezing temperatures made the ground slippery and slick as it turned into black ice. The bus I would normally take to Milo’s wasn’t running due to the ice, so I had to take the train. The train wasn’t that bad on a weekend; I didn’t tell Milo that took the train though since he’s always worrying about the bad things happening underground in the subway stations. Maybe it’s a cultural thing, but the subways in the UK were either for traveling long distances. It was nice to take a train that took you two stops and boom, you were where you needed to be.
I walked up Milo’s block and immediately felt this sense of comfort. I liked hanging out with Milo, especially now that we were in the same band class and had tons of pieces to rehearse for these days. I also never feel like playing the violin sucks as the rest of the ensemble believes. Milo always made me feel like it was cool playing in the strings orchestra; I always liked seeing his smile as our section had separate rehearsals outside of the overall ensemble. I haven’t had anyone really support my violin playing since my dad was still here.
“Hey, Scout!” I hear Milo call out. I looked over towards his house and saw him outside on the steps, waving at me. I couldn’t help but smile.
“Why are you outside? It’s freezing,” I said as I walked closer to Milo’s place.
“I was cleaning the steps for my family,” Milo said, putting the shovel aside. “Sucks being the oldest.”
“I can imagine,” I laughed, following Milo back up toward the front door of this house. “Are your parents home?”
“Uhm, yeah,” Milo quickly said before opening the front door. We entered the hallway of Milo’s house and immediately took a left towards the door leading to the studio. I always found it so cool that Milo’s family had a studio inside their house. I know it’s technically Jennifer’s home dance studio, as Milo has told me, but from what I understand it’s now more of a rehearsal space for Milo and his dad. Upon entering the studio space, I see Milo’s drum set in the corner of the room.
“That’s such a pretty set,” I mentioned, walking towards the drums. MIlo followed behind me.
“Pretty is such a weird way to describe drums, Scout,” Milo teased. I looked back at him and scrunched my nose, disagreeing with him. Milo laughed at my reaction before he said anything else. “But thank you, it’s a pretty old set.”
“Was it your dad’s?” I asked, walking around the set to look at it closer.
“Nah,” Milo answered, grabbing the drumsticks from the msuic stand. “My dad got them for me as a graduation gift. They’re cool.” He walks toward me and hands me the drumsticks in his hand. I was confused at what was happening.
“What are you doing?” I asked, nervous at Milo’s intention. He smiles and grabs my hand, guiding me towards the seat behind the drum set. “Wait, wait; Milo I-“
“I’m gonna show you how to play a simple measure,” Milo finally admitted, standing next to me behind the drum set.
“Milo, I don’t know how to play the drums,” I said as I looked at Milo.
“I know,” he said. “That’s why I’m going to show you.” He placed the drumsticks into my hands before he held onto my wrists. “So you would count down this piece by simply hitting the top of the drum like this.” He softly guided my hand as he played the first beat of the piece.
“Okay, that’s not that bad,” I said, calming down.
“You say that now,” Milo teased. “Until you hear this being the drumline of the piece we’re learning.” With my hands still on the drumsticks, Milo takes my wrists one more and plays the drumline of the song. It’s fast and it’s technical, but so insane to think that during band class, this is what Milo is playing. Every beat of the drum felt like it was traveling through my body; it was liberating. It wasn’t long after that Milo stopped guiding my arms. It quickly took me out of the trance I was currently in.
“That was amazing!” I said to Milo, nearly freaking out over the adrenaline I was feeling. “I can only imagine how it feels when you play during an actual performance.”
“It’s easily one of the best feelings in the world,” Milo explained. We switched positions; he is now sitting behind the drum set as I walked towards the front of it. “It’s why I prefer to play the drums more than any other instrument. The more passion you have while playing, the better the sound is. I feel like I’m dancing along to the music rather than playing it during a performance.” Sometimes, I take a glance over at Milo during a performance and see just that: him feeling the music rather than just playing it like the rest of us. I can tell just how much this means to him; being able to play music is something that Milo seems to always look forward to. I don’t blame him; he looks the happiest whenver he plays.
“It must be fun in the percussion section, huh?” I asked, intrigued by his conversation.
“Yeah, when it’s just me,” Milo said in a snarky way. I forget that Aaron is also in the percussion section. Shoot, sometimes i forget he’s eeven in our band class due to the amount of absences he currently has. “It would be even more fun if your section was near ours.”
“Something tells me I wouldn’t get much work done if that was the case,” I joked, tasseling Milo’s hair. His face immediately turned red, which makes my face suddenly feel hot as well. “Should we begin rehearsing?”
“Uhm, yeah,” Milo said, clearing his throat. I sit in the chair directly across from Milo’s drum set. I took out my violin from its case and began to set my posture up. I placed the violin on my shoulder and leaned against the instrument on the chin rest. When I didn’t hear Milo say anything, I looked up at him. To my surprise, he’s sitting there just looking at me.
“Is everything okay?” I asked, placing the violin back donw on my lap.
“Yeah,” Milo answered. “You turn into a different person when you have your violin in your hand.” He smirked at me. “It’s interesting to see so close up.” Once again, my face feels immensely hot.
“Thanks,” I laughed as I began to put the violin back up in position. “Shall we begin?”
“We shall,” Milo said, counting us both into the piece.
January 1st feels just like the number 0. It feels like the start space on a board game. It feels like midnight, but in military time; 00:00. January 1st, no matter what day it lands on, will always feel like an unofficial reset. This year, it falls on a Monday.
A weekend of self-reflection and celebration has passed. The last weekend of 2023 has come and gone, and here we are starting a new week. Yes, technically Sunday would make it a new week, but we count that as the end of the week since it’s a part of the weekend.
January 1st, 2024. The reset button. The “thank God the year officially ended” feeling. The “I hope 2024 treats me well” resolution.
The “1994 babies, it’s your time to say hello to 30!” talks with those that either are 30 or are turning 30 in the coming years.
Hi, my name is Liz, and I am a 1994 baby; 8 days away from being 30.
January 1st is more than just another reset to another year; it’s the start of a new decade of life. Experiences. Goals, aspirations, plans to see 40 in the next decade of life. The decade that takes everything you learned in your 20s and now practice those life lessons in your 30s. The decade where you might get married, have kids, attend other people’s weddings and baby showers and kid birthday parties. The decade where you understand your parents a bit more, as they were once your age figuring it all out just like you.
It’s truly the decade where you don’t give a shit; you’ve spent so much of your time doing so in your 20s and it never ends up being worth it. It’s the decade that you start not only living for yourself, but you start living as yourself; no façade, no persona, it’s just you.
And I think I’m excited for just that. Pushing the reset button to start a new decade in life. To live this Monday and see it as a fresh start, leaving last week in the past year. Standing at the “start” space on a board game of life. Looking at the clock strike midnight and think, “I have another 24 hours to get it right.”
January 1st, 2024. The first page of the first chapter in many chapters to come.
You are now entering the story of a woman who drinks iced coffee even on the coldest days of the season. The story of a woman that has a k-pop boy named Kang Seungsik plastered on her bedroom walls after once feeling ashamed of doing so for her age. The story of a woman that travels an hour and a half to work on public transportation; the woman who is the youngest worker in her office. A woman who spends her Friday nights on the phone with her friends that are across the country. A woman who spends a couple days of her week with someone that she vibes so well with. A woman who goes to the gym to work out all the stress of life and work away. A woman who gets lost inside her mind through the lives of her fictional characters.
You are entering a story that took years to write and put together, and one that finally is publishable to the world.
29, you are entering the story of a woman named Liz. The story starts off with tons of trauma and mental health issues; Liz used to define herself through her struggles and even then couldn’t overcome them because she was consumed by the identity of being mentally ill. She saw early on that although she would be understanding to those around her and their mental issues, not everyone was like her and not everyone will be understanding about mental health in a world where it was still considered a taboo. She leaves everything behind from her early twenties as she triumphs into a new identity, hoping that everything would fall into place with the time she had to find herself. She discovers a new love for a genre of music; one that opens her up to a world she never thought she would be a part of. She spoke to so many people in a community she felt too old to fit in, yet that same community was the place where she met some of her closest friends; those who she has never met but still feels like she’s known for her entire life. She rekindled a relationship she never thought she would, hoping that with the time apart and lessons learned that this time around, things would be different. She quickly learns that things are different.
29, you are entering the aftermath of a two-year journey of weight loss; something she never thought would happen for her. In two years, she has managed to lose 120 pounds, but you are entering a time where she fears that all that hard work will go to waste if she isn’t careful with her diet.
29, you are entering the last of Liz’s twenties; the last chapter to a story about a girl that turned into a woman. She went to college and grad school and published her thesis in an academic journal and became friends with her thesis advisor. She sought out therapy when she needed it and got the professional help in order to deal with years of undiagnosed depression and anxiety. She tried new things that she either enjoyed in the long run or immediately stepped back from after learning she didn’t like it. She loved and lost family in her twenties; a grandmother on her father’s side due to breast cancer, an uncle on her father’s side after an unexpected heart attack, and a grandfather that was diagnosed with lung cancer and told us had 2 more weeks to leave after passing away just a day later. She lost her childhood pet; a white lab mix/dalmatian breed named Pal, who grew to be 15 years old before he passed away in 2016. She lost her cat, a black bombay cat named Babygirl, who we rescued from my mom’s office and brought her home for the last 5 years of her life. But in the things she lost, she gained in its place; a pet turtle named Squirtle that her sibling brought home one day in 2019 and two grey tabby kitten brothers, Porkchop and ShyGuy. She learned to take everything one day at a time and to appreciate everything that comes along with the day. She learned to leave work at work and to not bring it home, she learned that support is something she values the most in professional environments, and she learned that she can confine in people without feeling like a burden to them.
29, you are entering a story that is continuing to prosper, but you also are ending a chapter of Liz’s life that she’s known for the past 9 years.
When I was in New York for the first time back when I was 17, I thought it was crazy to see snowfall before Christmas. That year, it snowed just a few days before Thanksgiving; I remember because it was before the audition for that year’s competition, and the first prize was a full scholarship to Julliard. I remember that was all that mattered to me at that moment. I remember I took the subway by myself for the first time since being in New York; my father had forbidden me from auditioning for the competition. I called Emerson to see if he can come with me, but he was too busy with his parents. I was nervous to call Scott, but I sucked it up and asked if he wanted to come with me. To my surprise, he said yes.
We both sat on the C train going Uptown, just passing Fulton Street. We sat in silence for what felt like hours when really, it was only 3 stops. Being 29, I know now that the A train makes the expressstops in the city.
“So,” Scott began to say. I looked at him, nervous to talk to him. I don’t know why I was; we literally spoke every day in school with Emerson, but something about speaking to Scott Campbell on my own felt… scary. “What are you all dressed up for?” he finally asked.
“Oh, uhm,” I started as I looked down at my outfit. It was a sparkly dance ensemble with a flowy skirt; also sparkly. “It’s for an audition.”
“For like, a Broadway show?” Scott genuinely asked. I giggled, thinking that it was really cute of him to think that I was even a good enough dancer for Broadway.
“No, no… for a competition,” I corrected. I looked at Scott, thinking he was going to ask a million questions, because– well, let’s face it; I asked someone that I never hung out with outside of school to accompany me across the fucking borough because I didn’t know how to take the subway. “It’s for a scholarship to Julliard, and it’s–“
“For dance,” Scott finished. I looked at him, a little shocked that he knew. Did Emerson tell him? How did he know? “I, uhm… saw you practice after-school with Ms. Castro a couple of times,” I saw him swallow hard as his eyes widen. “I- I didn’t mean to watch or, like, knew you were always practicing, but…” I could tell Scott was nervous, but I couldn’t help but giggle.
“You would watch me dance?” I asked. Scott took a deep breath before finally answering.
“Yeah. You are hands down the best dancer in the school, and you’ve only been here for a couple of months,” he stated.
“You flatter me, but I am not that good of a dancer; not New York City good,” I responded back. He’s just being nice to you.
“Dude, I thought you were going to audition for a damn Broadway show!” Scott emphasized, and it made me laugh. It definitely took a lot of the edge I was feeling off. I was grateful Scott accompanied me to my audition that day.
…
I look down at my phone; I have exactly one hour before the audition begins in Uptown. I brush down my attire to make myself look clean and neat; two things I fail to be as a dancer, and in more of a literal sense: as a person. I took a deep breath before opening my eyes and finally seeing myself in the mirror. My hair is tied in a bun, my body shimmers in the sunlight from the glitter on my outfit, and my dirty sneakers to take to the audition, where I will take them off to put on my ballet shoes. Are we really doing this, Grace?
“Hey, girl,” I hear at the doorway of the room. I turn around and Ari’s there. She smiles and walks into the room to sit on the edge of the bed. “You look pretty.”
“Thanks, I feel like shit,” I responded. Ari scoffs as she adjusts herself in her seat. “Why did I think this was a good idea?” I questioned every little thing since the moment I got back to New York about two months ago. I questioned if I deserved to watch my daughter walk to her teacher for the first day of school. I questioned if those in my life; my parents, Max, Willow, Emerson, and even Ari should be mad at me for just disappearing and leaving New York for half a year. Why aren’t they mad at me? I would be pissed the fuck off if someone I cared about would just up and leave–
“Bitch, you deserve this,” Ari stated. “I mean, I’ve never seen you dance, but the way that your mom was so excited that you were doing this; like you must be a bomb ass dancer and you deserve to do what makes you happy. Plus, you’re back in New York, which means you get to spend some time with Willow–“
“You do know that if I get this gig, I’ll be practically spending a year overseas, right?” I asked. Ari’s expression completely changed. She didn’t know what was truly this audition.
“Well, where would you be going? Italy? London? Paris? Girl, imagining performing for Paris Fashion Week–“
“Ulsan.” I interrupted. Ari coked her eyebrow up; she clearly did not know where I was going.
“Bitch, where?” Ari asked.
“Ulsan, as in South Korea,” I finally answered. “The production is going to be in–“
“Grace,” Ari simply said. I looked at her, nervous about where this was going. Ari was visibly angry at me. Finally, someone is fucking angry at me. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No.” I simply said, back to Ari. Ari walked towards the door and closed it before saying anything else to me. She walked up to me, practically in my face. She was more than angry at me; she was livid.
“You’re trying to tell me that you left New York after getting your fucking heart broken by a man, who so happens to live in South Korea, go to California as some type of escape from reality, to then come back to New York with the sole purpose of coming back is to audition for a production that is going to be a year-long in Soth Korea; aka where the man that broke your fucking heart lives?” Ari was practically yelling at this point.
“For fuck’s sake, Ari; Jamie doesn’t own the entire fucking country,” I answered, annoyed at Ari’s lack of support. “I haven’t even seen him since I left New York,” I lied. Ari doesn’t know that for practically the entire summer, I spent it with Jamie in California. Ari doesn’t know that in some twisted way, I allowed Jamie back into my life for a whole summer, not realizing that with Jamie, it didn’t take long for me to remember why I loved him in the first place. Ari doesn’t know that, and it was pointless to bring it up now; I was never seeing Jamie again.
“You going there ups the chances of you rekindling something that is stale and burnt out,” Ari argued. It stung a bit when she called what I had with Jamie “burnt out”. I thought that was just something only Jamie and I felt. Why did it hurt hearing it come out from someone else? “Seriously Grace, I think this is a bad fucking idea.”
“Oh, so now it’s a bad idea when just minutes ago it was something I deserved,” I spat back at Ari. I hated when Ari did this; be a supportive friend, and then make me feel like an idiot when things don’t go the way she wants them to go.
“It was, but now you’re literally telling me you’re leaving New York, again, to go across the fucking world to dance in the country where your stupid fucking ex lives?! Seriously Grace, where the fuck are your priorities?!” I didn’t say anything; I just watched Ari pace back and forth in the room we were in. She finally stops and looks at me. “You’re being a shitty fuckin’ mother to Willow by doing this, Grace.”
I looked at Ari, remembering all of the times we’d had similar conversations in this apartment in the past. I remember Ari trying to convince me to work things out with Max right after I had Willow. We fought until she realized I was going to do what I wanted to do, and slowly we were able to work out our friendship again. The same exact thing happened when I quit the firm. The same thing happened when Jamie and I decided to work things out the last time he was in New York. The same thing happened when I didn’t tell Jamie about the abortion. Every decision I ever made in the time I’ve known Ari was questioned by her, and I fucking hated it. I always thought she did it because she truly had her best interest in my well-being. She was sometimes right in her concerns, but most of the time, she would just make me feel like absolute shit about anything that I did.
The one thing she never brought up was Willow. Sure, I had my moments when I could’ve been a better mother. I could’ve made my decisions with Willow in mind. I could’ve just been this stay-at-home mom and watched her grow into the little girl she is now. I could’ve done a lot of things in my differently, and Ari made me know that fact. But, she would never say anything about me as a mother and how I should be raising my daughter. I took a deep breath, thinking about my words.
“I’m… going to be late for my audition,” I began. I grabbed my bag, throwing it on my shoulder. “And when I’m done with that, I will come back and pack my things.” I looked at Ari, trying hard to not let my emotions read all over my face. Ari scrunched her eyebrows together, looking genuinely confused.
“Are you serious?” Ari asked.
“Yeah, Ari. I’m serious,” I sternly said. “I’m going to stay with my parents while I’m here in New York.” Ari’s response was a condescending laugh. Maybe I was too young and blindsided to see this in the past, but I see it clearly now: Ari is nothing but a mean girl.
“Here you go again, running away from the truth,” Ari got up from her seat. “Seriously, girl, aren’t you tired of running? Like you’re about to be 30 years old, Grace. Grow the fuck up and deal with your shit head-on like a real adult.”
“I’m not getting in this with you,” I said, calmly. I realized that whenever I would react to Ari’s “tough love”, it would feed into this cynical side of her that felt like she was staying the truth. “So, I’m leaving for the audition, and then I’m leaving your apartment, and I’m leaving this friendship.” I passed Ari as I walked out the door. Before I walked out the apartment, she came out of the room we were in and in typical Ari fashion, began shouting.
“This is your problem, Grace! You can’t keep anyone or anything in your life because you think life fucking owes you an apology for your shitty life up until now,” I turned around to look at Ari. In the corner of my eye, I saw Dean take the headphones off his head from the living room to see what was going on. “You need someone to constantly tell you that your decisions are shitty and that you aren’t capable of keeping anything good in your life because you always go and fuck it up!”
“Is that what you really think of me, Ari?” I spat back. “You think being a shitty friend to me is actually something I need?”
“If you think I’m being a shitty friend–“
“You are a shitty friend,” I interrupted. Ari began to walk in my direction, and Dean finally got up from the sofa to calm Ari down.
“Fuck you, Grace! This is the thanks I get for helping you out all these times you literally had no one in your life because you fucked them over?!” Ari was yelling over Dean. I tried so hard to not let her words hurt me. I blinked before exhaling.
“Bye, Ari. I’m sorry, Dean,” I said before turning around and opening the front door to her apartment. I walked out and closed the door behind me; closing the door on yet another chapter of my life. I’m always questioning if I’m doing the right thing.
I walked into the school’s library, waving at the person that sits at the front desk during the day. She knows me by heart since I’m always in this library. Yeah, who would’ve thought Mollie Sue Castro would be familiar with a library. I walked toward the front desk like I normally would do whenever I visit the library.
“Hi, Barb,” I greeted the woman at the front desk.
“Good afternoon, Mollie,” Barb smiled as she answered back. She goes through the wooden box of door keys behind her, picking one out. “Doing some more vocal study?”
“Yeah,” I nodded my head. “We have quartets later in class and it’s always easier to practice with another person.”
“I bet it is,” Barb answered as she takes out the paperwork for me to sign. “Well, tell Aaron I said hi, and good luck with your vocal assignments.” I smiled as Barb handed me a key to one of the study rooms in the library. Aaron and I have met to study for the past couple of weeks now; he wasn’t kidding when he said he needed help in vocal class. It’s not that the guy can’t sing, but he is clearly using all the wrong techniques to sing! He’s going to end up fucking up his vocal cords if he keeps straining his singing voice like that.
…
“Yo!” I yelled out to Aaron as he was singing. “You don’t hear that sus ass note? It’s sharp, not flat.”
“Where in this song do you see that it’s a sharp note?” Aaron yelled back, obviously frustrated. I walked toward him and pointed at the sheet music.
“There,” I answered. “The baritone note is sharp and the bass note is in the major key. You are the melody, they are the filler with the sopranos.” Aaron’s eyebrows cocked up, realizing his mistake.
“Oh shit,” Aaron responded, and I couldn’t help but laugh. He clearly looked offended at my laughter. “Yo, what’s so funny?”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I said while trying to contain my laughter. “I just realized that you might have been the one person in vocal the other day who was singing solo notes out of this piece.” Aaron widens his eyes and a smile appears on his face.
“You heard me sing off-key in class and now just telling me, Castro?!” I begin to laugh out loud at the situation again; thankfully Aaron was now laughing along with me. “Yo, I thought I was killing it that day!”
“Yeah; killing that song,” I said, still trying to keep my composure but couldn’t help myself. Aaron nudged my shoulder and continued to laugh so loud, a library worker had to bang on the glass to quiet us down.
…
It’s not until a few minutes later do I see Aaron tapping on the glass door of the study room. I get up from my seat and open the door for him.
“Hey, Castro,” Aaron smiled as he greeted me. “Ready to absolute slaughter the class in quartets in class today?”
“Stop gassing me up,” I said playfully. Aaron shakes his head and takes out his sheet music. “So, which song do you want to practice?” Aaron looks through the papers in his hand before he answers me.
“Let’s do… oh! In Mozart’s “Requiem”, I don’t understand how the baritones began the piece with the altos when they are in completely different sections.”
“Those two sections typically carry the melody of a piece,” I answered, flipping through my folder of sheet music to get the right one out to start practice. “It makes sense if they typically sing together or start off the song,” I looked up and saw Aaron looking directly at me while I was speaking. It made me nervous. “What?”
“You are fucking smart,” Aaron responded. I laughed to myself, shaking my head.
“Yeah, well try to tell everyone else that,” I said, not realizing that I was about to have this conversation with Aaron Serrano of all people. “Like, does being smart in vocal make you a smart person?” Aaron scrunched his eyebrows together; he looks hella annoyed at me all of a sudden.
“It makes you passionate about your talent,” Aaron answered back. “I don’t know who told you otherwise, but being good at what you’re here to do makes you fucking smart. You are hands down the smartest person in our vocal class; I think anyone would trade their book smarts for your talent.”
“Thanks, Serrano,” I said back, not really meaning it. It’s nice to be known as the “girl who knows all her music” or the one that answers all the questions correctly on our quizzes. But truly, does it even mean anything if I’m doing something that’s not completely my passion? I like singing, but the more I walk around these halls and see the dancers, it makes me feel like even in the place I should be in, I don’t fit in. Aaron taps his pencil on the table in my direction. It makes me look directly at Aaron, who is still looking directly at me.
“I mean it,” Aaron said. “You’re talented and smart and funny and just… if anyone thinks otherwise, they are a fucking loser.” I smile at Aaron’s honesty. I look down at my sheet music but before we started studying, I look back up and back at Aaron.
“What’s your motive?” I spat out, not realizing I said what I was thinking out in the open. Aaron looked confused.
“Motive?” he asked.
“Yeah; like I see you with your other friends all the time and yet we are always in this damn study room, studying for vocal. Are you just trying to use me to pass vocal or something?” I was growing annoyed now. Maybe this is just some bottled-up shit I kept in that bothered me, but no one ever wants to hang out with me for many reasons. It seems like all the boys in this school just want to be with the pretty girls and whenever a guy talks to me, it’s either he’s using me for his own personal gain, or he’s keeping this big secret from me. Guys don’t like me, and they don’t ever want to be my friend. It’s never this easy to keep a friend, and I feel like I’m making it very obvious that I’m a major reason why I can’t keep friends. Aaron looks annoyed with me, and I don’t blame him. The guy just told me I was all these great things, and now I’m showing him every reason I’m not any of them.
“With all due respect, Mols,” Aaron started out. Mols. He never called me by a nickname before. “I don’t know what assholes you have or had as friends, but I actually really like you as a friend. I like spending time with my friends, and you so happen to be one of my friends. So I guess liking you as my friend is my motive.” I felt like shit after hearing Aaron say what he said. For fuck’s sake, Mol, not everyone is trying to fuck you over.
“Sorry,” I quickly said as I looked back down at my sheet music, flipping through the pages. Aaron placed his hand on top of my pile of sheet music. I stopped in my tracks and slowly looked up at Aaron. He was reaching from the other side of the table to place his hand on my papers. He looked at me directly in my face and smiled. I would be lying if I said it didn’t bring me some level of comfort knowing he was still in this study room and wanting to hang out with–
“Mols?” Aaron asked.
“Hmm?” I went back to focus on Aaron.
“Show me how to really sing this damn Mozart’s Requiem,” he said as he went back to his seat to get his sheet music.
To think back and realize that ten years ago was the year 2013 makes me feel more of my age as the days and years pass. 2013 doesn’t feel like it was a decade ago, but here we are in 2023, and, well, 2013 was truly 10 years ago! Like every beginning of a new year, we start it off reflecting on where I was 10 years prior, and we just so happen to be entering 2013 territory! Like 2012, 2013 was a tough year for me; but, it was the year that I finally learned to let go of the bad things in my life and adapt to new things that I was interested in and good for me and my mental health.
But first, let’s take it all the way back to the year 2013!
At the beginning of 2013, I had just turned 19 years old and was about to start my second semester as a college freshman. The first semester was a horrible one; it was hard to pass my classes and was on the verge of failing almost all of them. I knew for my second semester, I had to get my grades up, or else the college would put me on academic probation. I was still struggling a lot mentally at the beginning of 2013 year. I still was very much caught up in the high-school drama since it followed me even after graduation. Even though the person that I was still very much into was hours away at a different college, I had made it my mission to always see them whenever they could come back to the city. Thinking about it now, it was really stupid of me; like, here I was friendless and barely passing my classes, yet my mind and energy were hyperfocused on this one person who went to the same college as their partner, and, didn’t even bat an eyelash to actually think about me. But then again, I was 19 and still fresh out of high school, so my high-school mentality still influenced a lot of my thought process and decision-making.
Fashion for 2013 Liz was bringing much of what “Tumblr fashion” was, which is crazy to think that Tumblr used to be the biggest social platform for those in my age range at the time. It was dip-dyed/ombre hair color, “summer scarves” that yes, I used to wear all year round, including hot summer days, and Toms/Keds/Bootleg Toms named Bobs. Needless to say, 2013 fashion was weird and random fashion. Like, even the music was weird! I can’t explain how music was a decade ago; it was just a lot of dance music that we all use to fuck with heavy with a mix of like… swing 1950-esque beats? Also, it was still truly the “British Invasion” era of music which I think also became more of an identity crisis for some of us.
I remember 2013 being the year that I tried out dieting because I noticed that I was gaining that “freshman 15” everyone used to talk about. I lived at home and commuted to my college, but I think that as I got older and continued to grow, my weight started to go up as well. I remember my toxic diet culture mind tracking how many points I had for the day and how many additional ones I was allowed to have and when I even began to see some slight changes, I would then stop the hard work and celebrate that little weight loss with something that I shouldn’t have.
At the time, I didn’t realize that the rapid weight gain was due to the fact that by August 2013, I would spend most of my summer nights sitting up in a butterfly chair trying to sleep since the pain was unbearable. I still remember having to wake my mom up at 6:30 in the morning to take me to the Emergency room because the pain got to a point where I was losing hours of sleep and I was barely functional because of it. After going to the ER, I was told that I had gallstones, which also meant that I needed to get surgery to remove them and my gallbladder altogether. It would be my first ever surgery, and I remember crying the night before because I was so scared. I had the surgery about a month later, and it took me about a week to fully recover and go back to school.
Because I did not properly handle my mental health, a lot of my issues carried over into 2013. It was a very weird summer; the person I still had feelings for came back from college and every time they did, those around me would see my personality change. In a way, I was always trying to be something I wasn’t; I constantly tried to show off my ability to “be strong” and tough, yet we all knew it was a facade. I still remember seeing my best friend before going out to an underground show in the city and having a huge argument about putting people on pedestals and who deserves to be on them and such. Again, this was an energy I usually didn’t have whenever I was here on my own just living my day-to-day life. It wasn’t until I was told by my best friend that I switch up whenever this other person comes back into my life. Of course, I denied it, and it wasn’t really until later on in the summer that I realized just how toxic this person was to me, and that it was about time I let them go and out of my life.
I spent one last time with them in my neighborhood that summer. Prior to this last meeting, I had gone through something extremely triggering with them, and instead of feeling appreciative about my actions, I felt like absolute shit getting yelled at over the phone and constantly being called a stupid bitch. I sat on my bathroom floor and constantly asked myself if maybe I was the problem. Was there something wrong with me? Was it some undiagnosed mental illness that made me behave the way I did? In the long run and nearly a decade later, I realized that while yeah, this experience has been the deep rooted cause of my mental health issues in the years to come, I was in a situation where it was nothing good coming out of it, and quite frankly was verbally, emotionally, and psychologically abused for about 2 years by this point. It was scary to go from thinking you have a person in your life who understood you to having literally no one besides the friends that drifted away because of this one person. But, when one door closes, another one opens.
During the summer of 2013, my mom was heavily involved in this TV show that she watched since 2011. Every Sunday night, her and my father would sit in the living room and watch this show and my mother would then go online to the forums to discuss who could have possibly be the perpetrator of these season-long crime cases. I vaguely remember my mother telling me that the first 2 seasons had a major twist at the end, and that the acting of the parents and supporting characters were some of the most raw and realistic acting she has ever seen in television. This particular summer, they were airing season 3 and I just so happened to be in the kitchen while she was watching the third episode of the third season. After that, the rest is truly history.
I was in love with this show, and I swear I probably rewatched the entire series more times than I can fully remember. Although, I did restart the series over the summer and stopped midway into season 3, so perhaps it’s about time I picked it back up and finished the series. AT the time, I was really involved in my Twitter account, and while interacting with the stars of that season and other people in the hashtags, I became a part of the community that we dubbed as “The Killing Fam”. When the show wasn’t renewed for a fourth season yet left us on a major cliffhanger, the community fought to have Netflix or another streaming service platform pick up the season for a fourth season. In November 2013, we were granted that fourth and final season.
This might sound so dramatic and cheesy, but this show and the community saved my life. It felt good to go into a community and feel connected to other people to talk about something that we all enjoy or are passionate about. This show also gave me some true inspiration to start writing my own stories down and honestly, Sarah Linden as a character has inspired so many of my own OCs, it’s kind of insane.
By the end of 2013, I felt like I was becoming the person I wanted to be at the time and for the first time in a long time, I genuinely was happy. It made the transition of going into 2014 a smooth one. I ended the year thankful that despite being in a really shitty situation and thinking I couldn’t come out of it, I found a part of my identity through a community that to this day will thank for literally saving my life. I think that’s why in 2020, transitioning into the K-pop community and finding my identity as a 26 year old was so important and crucial o my healing. Also, I realized that situations like the one I was in will always come up and disguise itself as being something different or new and honestly, I think I was just so traumatized by that toxic situation that I just know when and if something around me is going to turn for the worse. Reflecting back on this time of my life really makes me realize that a lot of this past Liz lived so that the Liz I am today can succeed.
But yeah, here’s to 2023! See you guys for 2024 where, that’s going to be a fun year to reflect back on. See you in the next one!
Letters From Liz. 