I'm just Super Saiyan

No one tells me anything, just saiyan…


Tales from Meetup

My experience with Meetup.com – AKA: the adventures of being ostracized in a public gathering.

First, a little bit of back story… Meetup.com is a site where people in a certain spot on this vast planet can decide to make a virtual group – usually themed – which allows any other person in the area to join up. Once a group has formed, this themed group of humans makes plans to meet in person. Thus, the premise being, that you get to meet people with similar interests, and you get to do something you enjoy in the process.

I had first heard of group meet ups from my lovely friends Kim and Edicson, both of whom had moved to a new area, didn’t know that many people, then ended up having some pretty good success in making local friends. Similarly, Luuk used meetup.com and was able to hangout with people all the way in the Netherlands, by joining a themeless group of meetup.com people.

So, last summer I decided to try and meet some people. I’d follow the formula that seemed to be working for my comrades:

Sounded simple enough. It had fewer steps than making a frozen pizza. I thought I had this one in the bag; if there were an election for person-who-could-make-most-best-friends I would have been president. Or at the very least…prime minister.

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This post has no pictures.

It’s been a while since I blogged – so why not just dive right into this. Let the ranting begin.

Making friends outside of college is quite possibly the hardest bullshit I’ve ever had the pleasure of encountering (and I suffered through nursing school).

This isn’t some simple pinata you conquer by swinging a big stick and peaking through a blindfold. Oh, no no no. This is some difficult shit. This is like riding a unicycle balanced on a rope above an active volcano. You’re chances of getting burned are high, my friend. I know why it is hard, but knowing is not enough to get results. As a wise GI Joe once said, “knowing is half the battle.” What Mr. Joe left out was what the fuck you need to do for the other half; I need to come out of this battle victorious. Am I getting too abstract here?

So, here is my deduction of why making friends is hard in your late twenties, after moving away from your closest friends.

1. You are different. Yeah, you. You’re a different person than you were when you graduated high school. Or at least you should be. Fuck. Who has the same personality from age 18 to age 28? What kind of character development did you sleep through? Quit whatever job you have and go do some acting for Michael Bay – he loves your lack of character development and he hasn’t even met you yet. (Oooh, sick burn to Michael Bay) My point is, you are a different person now. So obviously any friends you made prior to this point in your life met you when you barely knew who you were – similarly your friends didn’t know who they were either, so it’s like a bonding point. However, now you know you, meaning you know what you want out of life and relationships. You have different needs out of socializing and different expectations. Basically, you raised your standards. Which brings me to my next numerical bullet point…

2. You have higher standards. Yep, don’t you deny that shit either. I did for a while. See, I’ve met some really fucking amazing people in my day. I can’t believe I get to call them friends, they’re so awesome. But that kind of makes everyone else I haven’t met look really dull by default. Are you, future hypothetical friend, as cool as Amanda or Cathy? Probably not. Are you as funny as Steve or Luuk? Probably not. Do you understand me as well as Naty or Kim? I’m gonna go with no. So, whether I admit it or not, I’m kind of reaching for the stars before I even meet potential friends. If we aren’t going to be besties, what’s the point?

3. Work buddies are a bad idea. I know this doesn’t apply to everyone. But it certainly does for me. I can’t hang out with people at my job. It’s a bunch of females who talk shit and throw each other under the bus for any given task. I know shady shit on just about anyone you decide to point to on a given day. I also know, from personal experience, that hanging out with my co-workers doesn’t really make me any better friends with them. I’ve gone to several social gatherings, and besides small chit chat, nothing really comes out of it. People only wanting to bring up the time we went to that male review show (last time I drink with co-workers as well…). My boss seems to think this is a funny thing to bring up, despite my always professional “mode” at work. These people only want something to talk about.

4. Where do you find them? No, seriously. Where do you find potential friends? Cause I need to know. If any of you are familiar with meetup.com you may be under the impression that people “meet” each other on these sites. It has been my experience (trial and error experience) that these gatherings are either not active, or niche hobby-related groups that I don’t quite fit into. I’m going to have to do a whole separate post on my experiences with these, cause it’s kind of ridiculous.

5. Bonding? Yeah, this is a major problem. Let’s say you actually do make a new friend, and they’re interested in hanging out with you – what now? How are you going to build those bonds bro? You can’t just get white girl wasted and have your amigo assist you to the rest room like you did when you were 23. There’s just something about another woman seeing your junk that makes you both closer, I can’t explain it. You can’t take a college class with them and plant the bonding seed through your shared hatred for the professor. You can’t ask them to be your roommate and naturally create countless inside jokes. So what the fuck do you do? Play some board games in hopes that their witty banter will be enough to satiate your loneliness void? Unlikely. Ain’t no body that fucking witty…that I’ve met yet…that also thinks I’m funny.

Trial and error, my friends. That’s all that we are left with. Creating numerous social sparks with people we barely know, in hopes that one of them thinks your Family Guy impression is comedy gold.

Side note, uh, man…I really had to dust off my blog here. Wow, this is like a time capsule. Also I am not going back to edit the grammar in that cuban mom post, holy shit – I do not want to go through that nightmare. So, sorry internet about that. Also still in the process of downloading/paying for art programs to upload onto my new desktop (whuaaaahhht, super adult status). Hence, why there are no pictures in this post. #dealwithit #lazy


My Cuban Mother

You know, I’ve been thinking, I’ve already kind of incorporated my mom in a few posts nowbut no one has seemed to mention if they could relate to her. Maybe I’m the only one who has experienced her type of mom-ing. My bad, mothering. But I’m not so convinced. I’m pretty sure your moms have done some similar stuff, you just haven’t told me yet. Granted, my mother is Cuban, so she obviously doesn’t represent all the moms out there. But, she’s the best and all your moms suck, dayuuuuuuuum. I’m just kidding, I’m sure your mothers are lovely women. Either way, I wanted to share some things that my mom does (or did), because I’m not convinced that she’s the only person that does these things.

Things my mom says.

(1) People are looking.

My mom likes to remind me when we are out in public that we are out in public. What I mean is, she constantly points out that anything I do in public is seen by other people. The phrase she likes to use is “people are looking.”

Example: “Dios Mio, you are not going to wear that in public, people will be looking.”

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Accidental Penis

For those who don’t know, I started my new job a while ago. I decided to take the night shift because I was always interested in it as a student…so I wanted to explore and see if it was something I would enjoy as an employee.

Welp, one thing is for certain…my sleeping pattern is completely fucked up. This became blatantly obvious to me just a few moments ago.

So, I was typing up an essay for an online class I’m taking; the post was about hematology. Specifically, the subject was about Heparin Induced Thrombocytopenia (HIT).

As I typed and typed and hit “submit” into the online forum discussion…I realized I had typed, about eleven times, Heparin Induced ThrombocytoPENIS.

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I know this is not something that people would consider evil. But it is.

According to dictionary type folks, evil is being morally bad, causing injury or harm to someone, or marked by bad luck or events.

Photobucket has harmed me…by fucking with my hobby. Well, fuck you photobucket.

I’ve been on my feet, running around at work, I come home, and behold – no pictures on my blog! I work night-shift tonight…so I don’t have time to get mad at photobucket.

When someone gives you evil lemons, throw that shit out cause that lemonade is gonna be hella bad luck. Instead, find some solutions to your lemonade problem, like…FLICKR.

Yep, so, bare (or bear) with me as I switch over to the picture beast known as Flickr. Some pictures may not be fully visible at the moment…I want you to just pretend its the funniest picture you’ve ever seen in you life. Lean back in your chair, laugh your ass off, tip your hat to your computer screen, and go about your internet browsing.

I will slave away fixing this issue…slowly. Mostly cause it sounds like work. And I’m not into working right now…like…for my hobby…cause I’m already doing that in the reals.

– SSM.


Napkin Hoarding Syndrome

Everyone knows about the cat-lady stereotype. The one where a woman just hoards cats because…well…cats are cool.

Well, I’m about to tell you about the Napkin lady…or Napkin Hoarding Syndrome (NHS).

See, napkin hoarding syndrome is a disease (this is probably not a disease) and it has no cure (probably has no cure because it is not a disease). But it affects thousands of women every year (false statistic, it’s just me).

I suffer from NHS.

I don’t remember when NHS started, but I can tell you factors that lead me to developing NHS.

As a child, I had horrible allergies. Like, horrible, dreadful, super inconvenient allergies. Since I had such severe allergies, to basically everything, my nose was very sensitive. The slightest exposure to one of my allergens caused an almost instantaneous runny nose. I don’t know how many kids you enjoy interacting with whose nose holes are constantly dripping liquids, but I can tell you that I personally avoid these kinds of children.

So, in an attempt to maintain human social interactions with people, I constantly carried tissues in my pocket. This way, I could flip out my fibrous saviors and stuff them up my nose to plug up my nasal faucets.

As I became a young adult, I no longer had access to free tissues from my parents…I had to buy them. Now, I can tell you’re thinking to yourself, “tissues are cheap, so what’s the big deal?” – I’ll tell you what the big deal is. You can get free napkins from any food-producing business!

And free is always better than not free.

Thus, my love affair with napkins and hoarding them began.

Anytime I would visit a restaurant, I would take a handful of napkins and stuff them into my purse. If I ordered fast food, I would keep the extra napkins that came in the bag.

There are several different types of napkins, all with varying quality.

Let me break it down for you.

1) Cardboard – napkins that feel like cardboard are of the worst quality. They feel like sandpaper on your nose, you’re lucky if you don’t scrape off the entire superficial layer of your skin. Granted, napkins were never meant to be used for nose-blowing…but I mean, when in Rome McDonalds, do as Ronald would do.

2) Recycled – fibrous, but manageable. Also environmentally friendly, so, how can you hate it? These can be found everywhere, and they are generally the most abundant in my purse collection. They’re also surprisingly absorbent.

3) Thickened – thick napkins usually have fancy embossed decorations. As the title suggests, they are thicker and usually sturdier as well. I call these “old reliable,” because no matter what the issue, these work just as good as tissues (see what I did there?).

4) Royal – I’ve only seen these in high-scale restaurants, you know, the ones where the bathrooms have marble floors and there’s like a person sitting there for any bathroom assistance – usually waiting to help you out for a tip (thanks, but no thanks, I’ve got this lady). This is like the holy grail of napkin quality, it doesn’t get any better than this. They’re basically linen, like, I’m pretty sure some of those napkins come with a 600 cotton thread count. I’d sleep like a baby on a bed covered in Royal napkins.

Now, I go through phases of purse full-ness, meaning there will be times when there are only three napkins in my purse and then there will be times when there are thirty napkins in my purse. I usually hoard them until I use the majority of my stash, unless something happens – like I stored food in my purse and now all my napkins have crumbs in them. Then I discard them…but I’m quick to restock.

There is a silver-lining to my NHS, and that is when my napkins make me a hero.

Hero? Yes, hero.

I am a swift spill-solver. Spiderman has his spidey-sense, and I have my Spill-sense. When my spill-sense tingles, I know that there is a spill near by. I quickly take out my utility belt napkins and attack the culprit before it spreads over materials that could be damaged. Like a fucking ninja.


More realistic reenactment:

Actually, I’m sure on-lookers must think I’m some kind of napkin-dealer…

Spills and nose-blowing are the only reasons why I keep a stack of napkins in my car. I cannot tell you the number of times I spill something in my car. It’s like the universe gets offended by my ability to drink things, so it curses me when my car goes over speed bumps or badly-paved roads.

The other time that I look like a hero with my napkins is when someone needs paper and there’s none around.

I just pop open my purse and hand a napkin over.



And when I am done helping those in need…

Sometimes I’m my own hero… like, for example, when I enter a bathroom and I see that there is no toilet paper.

Having no toilet paper in a bathroom is quite possibly the most annoying thing ever… it leaves you totally helpless.

But I digress.

My NHS does get pretty out of control when I’m too busy to clean out my purse… they have a tenancy to spill out onto the floor. It kind of makes me look like I’m trying to keep track of where I’m going by leaving myself napkin clues. It also makes me unintentionally litter.

At home, I may put some napkins in my kitchen, but they always somehow make their way into my room…so then I’ve got napkins all over my already messy bedroom.

The point when I have to start throwing things away is when I wake up to the sight of a napkin on my pillow…

I know I have made progress with my disease…but it’s still got a strong grip on me. any time I get rid of napkins…a strong, burning urge to attain more floods through my body.

One day, when there is no more pollen, freshly cut grass, dogs, cats, dust, or allergens in general, I will finally be free of NHS. Until then…my purse will forever be twice as large thanks to my fluffy paper friends.


TEDxFIU 2013 – Exploring FIU

This is my follow up post to my TEDxFIU 2013 – Reimagine Possible post.

Some more pictures (in a slideshow) of TEDxFIU have been posted, for those interested. Also FIU’s Flicker has behind the scenes, and the event itself.

TEDxFIU was so insanely fun that I have to dedicate two posts to it! Consider this to be a more behind the scenes kind of deal, well…behind the scenes from my perspective. I’d like to share with you my adventure around the FIU campus as well as the cool stuff before and after the TEDxFIU event!

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The Majestic Pizza Table

Friends, I want to ask you all to go back in time with me. But not too far back…I’m talking probably early 1990s…can’t believe its already been 20 years. I’m asking you to go back in time with me because I had a dream the other night…a dream that reminded me of something I thought had been long forgotten. But really, it can never be forgotten…because it was possibly the most important piece of plastic to have ever graced my hands.

This is the story, of the Majestic Pizza Table.

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