The good: 4th of July in Bushwick

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Hello there dudes! The week of the 1st of July was so packed for me that I haven’t even gotten the chance to tell you what what went down! I had quite a few friends visiting from Canada, Germany, and … Continue reading

The ugly: How I went out by myself last night and enjoyed it

Park Slope (A) and Williamsburg (B)

Last night was a tough one for me. There were two events I really wanted to go to and no one to go with. Cool Brazilian music playing in a Park Slope bar and a cool DJ party/art thang in Williamsburg with an open bar. An open bar! We don’t get those in Canada, I’m pretty sure it’s illegal there to have fun give out alcohol for free at a party, which is shitty makes sense.

I generally consider myself a single girl, unless otherwise specified. I was also an only child for over 12 years. So you would think I would be OK and totally cool with being alone or doing things by myself. Surprise: I am not! I texted the following people: two new friends I made last weekend; this friend I knew from before; my cousin; couchsurfing people. Granted, I tried to organize things a little to late in the evening but no one seemed to be available. They either got back too me to late, had other plans, were not in the city, or just didn’t respond. Why would anyone not respond to a text/call? SO RUDE, amirite? Man, I’ve slept with the person who didn’t get back to me. I would never even do that to an enemy.

First, I felt like a less cheerful version of this:

CLICK ON ME

Then, I was like:

CLICK ON ME

And so with all the support of my friend Talia, whom I was skyping with at the time and telling her about how I had NO FRIENDS, I decided to just go out by myself. I really wanted to check out these events, more importantly they were free, and I just couldn’t stand the (otherwise great) idea of staying home to watch an episode of Law & Order: Special Victims Unit before going to bed. So I went and to be honest, it wasn’t the most fun I’ve had in years but I did have more fun than I was expecting. More importantly, I went out and did exactly what I wanted. Oh! And I had some delicious pizza before coming home, which is always good.

My night ended in Williamsburg at the loft part, very close to the East River waterfront. Since I was flying solo that night and didn’t have to wait for anyone, I left the party as soon as I got tired of it. Of course, not before getting my free drinks, dancing for a bit, and talking to some hipsters that I will hopefully never encounter again. I then walked to a nearby park on the waterfront overlooking Manhattan. I sat there for maybe 20 minutes looking at all the buildings, wondering how many people were still working and stupid shit like that. I listened to the pixies, reflected, and cried a little bit because I was drunk and friendless. That was probably my favourite part of the night (I’m serious).

I guess the morale of the story is that no matter how shitty people are with you, you can always count on yourself to make you happy. If other people are mean to you, at least you can choose to be good to yourself. Rather than feeling sad about myself, I decided to go out and have a little adventure and I also conquered my fears of doing things by myself. I am really really happy I did it and I feel a little bit more powerful.

The good: Meeting my cousin for the first time at an illegal bar

Have you ever red One Hundred Years of Solitude by Garcia Marquez? If not, skip to the second paragraph or go read it and then come back. I suggest the second. I first read the book when I was around 17 years old and I have been convinced ever since that my family is the real-life incarnation of the Buendia family. We, the Aranivas have it all: notoriety in a small town in El Salvador, a killer patriarch, a Rebeca who used to eat dirt (ca c’est moi), emotional unavailability, forbidden love stories, a longevous matriarch, and you know… we’re kinda weird-quirky-yet-awesome.

I am an Araniva on my mothers’ side so I unfortunately do not carry the name but I feel more Araniva than anything. My father is mexican and he doesn’t get along with his family all that much. I barely know who they are and I’ve met my dad’s family maybe three times in my entire life. But I don’t mind at all. Although small, the Aranivas are a pretty tight clan and it’s all the family I need.

A couple of years ago, my cousin Fran created a Facebook group for all the Aranivas to join and keep in touch since we are all scattered throughout America and Europe. As a side-note, he’s my mother’s cousin so I think I should call him my cousin once removed, but who has time for that shit?

So anyways, the group remained open and people from everywhere started joining. It was pretty neat because we all turned out to be somewhat related. Let it be known that Araniva is actually an alternative spelling of the basque last name Araniba or Aranibar. It is fairly uncommon outside of the small town of Chinameca in El Salvador. One way or another, all Aranivas are connected. When the group was first created I thought “omg this is sooo lamerz, I’m totes ~tooo kewl for this~ who r this random pple anywayzzz?” so I didn’t join.

Eventually my mom befriended on of the people in the group, a girl living in new york. She dreams of going to Peru and I think that’s how she started talking to my mom, who travels to Peru every so often for work. I noticed on my Facebook feed that they’d write on each other’s walls and like each other’s comments. I didn’t think too much of it until I visited new york last summer with my friend Talia and I decided to contact this “fake” cousin of mine. Our schedules ended up conflicting and we missed each other.

This weekend, we finally met up! She took me to this really cool reggae show/party in Bushwick, Brooklyn which is the new Williamsburg or in other words, the new up-and-coming hipster artsy neighbourhood. Half overpriced bars and pretentiousness, half interesting people and places. The event was held at this illegal bar, meaning that some dudes’ decided to sell booze in their converted loft without a liquor license. In case big brother is reading, I will keep the address to myself. Although apparently every other house in Bushwick is an illegal bar (in other words a huge party).

Guys, this was totally like Party Girl’s opening scene:

Except the guy charging cover was not as charismatic as Parker Posey. And no cops came. Also, the bathroom had barbed wire, as pictured below:

SPOOKY

My cousin used to live there and I highly considered moving there but the barbed wire kind of threw me off.

Also make sure you watch Party Girl! It’s a great movie.