To entertain or to relate to?

As I was driving to work today,
I realized the kinds of things that make cry,
as opposed to what makes most people cry.
I don't normally find "sad" things sad.
I find myself tearing up when people do touching things.
For example (these are my cheesy movie examples),
I didn't even come close to crying in The Notebook.
I don't know one person,
other than myself that left with dry eyes after seeing it.
But every time I watch Love Actually I cry when the one
English guy is holding up all the signs.
I tear up when I see a kid walking and holding their dad's hand.
I don't cry at funerals.

I don't even know why this popped in my head today.
I was just driving happily down the Tollway
(which I have a new love for since it's much more pretty than 75),
and I realize this about myself.
Maybe it was because earlier in the day I was listening
to a CD I hadn't heard in years and it brought back
serious memories and the feeling attributed with these memories.
Songs do that to me, they make me feel.
Movies don't usually make me feel. They don't seem "real life"
to me. They never had.
There are only a handful of movies that I think portray real life.
Real emotions. Real feelings.

I remember in my playwriting class in school, my professor
never once liked my stuff, because he said my characters
were too real and they didn't have defining qualities.
I was shocked when he said this.
I never enjoyed being just entertained, I like to feel something.
Apparently I am one in a few that feel this way, especially
when it comes to movies.
Sure, I go see movies just for entertainment, but none of them
ever make my favorite list.
I want goosebumps. I want to feel something for the character.
I want to hate them or love them by the end.

So many people love just mindless things. Just being entertained.
Not actually having to think about something. Never having
to actually use their mind to figure something out.
Case and point of reality TV.
And one thing I never understood was why it was called "reality".
None of the people are in "real life".
The cameras alter real life, the money they are getting from it
alters real life.

I never wrote characters that didn't seem real to me.
I can't imagine trying to make a character that I
couldn't see myself relating to.
Maybe this is the key to why I am don't have a book already.
Maybe this is why I don't work in the field.
I think I am okay with that though.

I was once asked if I wrote a book and Hollywood bought it
to make a movie out of it, and I got millions of dollars for it,
but I had to change the ending, if I would do it.
And to this day I think my answer would be no.
I think if I spent that much time and energy
and so much of my being into a book that was exactly like
I wanted it, that money could just change it.
I stand very firm on that.
I wouldn't sell my work so it could "entertain" people.
I want people to relate.

I think that is the key to some artists.
They thrive on the people that relate.
Not the people that are entertained.
That is what I strive for at least.

Love to all...

C

1000 Things (Sorry Jason Mraz, I stole your song title)

I have 1000 things running through my head today.
The most terrible part is that I cannot decipher through any of them.
None of these things can be fixed and stored away.
They just have to stay there for weeks or months or maybe years.

I have been thinking a lot lately about what makes me different.
What makes me, Caroline?
And to be honest, I can't think of one quality that makes me any
different from anyone else I see on a daily basis.
Yes, I have a good personality.
I am a genuinely nice person.
I can have fun, but also be serious.
I have my things that make me tick.
And so many different things that make me happy.
I love my dog like my own child.
I eventually want someone around that I can trust with my heart.
I want a house.
I want others to view me as someone they like to be around.
General things, that I am sure most people think of themselves.

So what makes me different?
I honestly haven't the slightest idea.
Except I have this crazy amount of passion sitting inside me,
waiting to have something and/or someone bring it out.
I have this idea of a dream job where I could read/write daily
to alleviate some of the restlessness that I feel from
bottling up so much creative and emotional passion.
I have this idea of a dream person as well that would share
this kind of passion for the world and the people that
he loves.
Surely these are not too demanding.

The saddest part of these two things is that I have to wait
for both of them.
Everyone says you can have whatever you want as long as
you set your mind to it.
I call bull shit on them.
I have wanted to write since I was in high school.
I did write. Only for myself. Much like right now.
I spent countless dollars and hours in college pursuing a
career my family didn't support, and one I still have yet to break into.
I am sure there is more that I could do to pursue it, but it's very
hard to be motivated after 7 years of college, and a terrible economy,
especially for recent graduates.

As for the second dream of mine...
As of a month ago, I had no idea what I wanted this person to look like,
and knew nothing of the qualities I wanted him to possess.
Finally one day, I sat down at my desk and made a list.
From what he looked like to his level of schooling.
From his quirks to if he would live in a house, apartment, etc.
I wrote down every part.
And I told myself I would no longer let myself date someone
who didn't have these qualities.
Sure there are some I am more lenient on, and others that
I stand very firmly beside.

After feeling quite crazed about this list, I decided
to ask the one person who gives flawless advice...
My mother.
She said it was a great idea and that she wished
she would have had a list when she was dating.
Not that my dad wasn't most of the things she wanted,
she just wished she had something to look at when she
was single, to help guide her.
I am pretty sure whomever it is that I end up will have
to be a lot like my mother, in how she handles me.
She knows what it is like to see me as a hypochondriac,
and she will come with me and still hold my hand when
they are taking blood. He will have to be like that.
She knows what it is like to see me as an unrealistic dreamer,
and she will tell to think things through when I am
getting too far with my searches. He will have to be like that.
She knows what it is like to see me as a heartless bitch,
and she will tell me when I am out of line, but in the most
loving way, knowing the whole time I don't really mean
the things I said. He will have to be like that.
And most importantly, she knows what it is like to see me
at my weakest, to see me lost and confused, to hold my head
in her lap and let me cry and cry, until my eyes are red and raw,
and tuck my hair behind my ear and tell me how beautiful I am
and how everything will be fine. He will have to be like that.

And even as I type, I realize more things to add to my list.
But as I said before, I have to be patient with both.
Do only what I can, and hope for the best.
And hope one day, my passion won't be wasted.

Love with passion...

C

In the morning hours

I often find myself waking up in the wee hours of the morning.
I start thinking of things. Things I know I can not
fix between 4 and 8a.m.
For some reason though, they wake me up and
make it hard to fall back to sleep.
It usually involves money, sometimes relationship problems.
Between men and friends.
All it is though, is me analyzing every bit of something
from the confines of my bed.
Nothing will obviously be done about it until later.
But for whatever reason, I find myself unable to shut my mind off.
It could be my crazy sleep schedule or as a friend said,
the time when alcohol leaves your body.

Whatever the reason, I sometimes have the biggest epiphanies
in the half-awake moments.
I find myself realizing the answer to some
question or how to solve a problem.
Other times though I give up the fight and
let myself think of something else.
I have never been good at sleeping the whole night through.
This is very rare for me, so much so that I have a
collection of books next to my bed.

Maybe I do have sleep apnea or something of that sort, but part of me
loves that time in the morning.
Sometimes I come up with really good stuff.
This morning I woke up about 9:30, after going to bed around 3:30 a.m.
I knew this would never be adequate sleep for me.
In the amount of time before I drifted back to sleep,
I tried to decipher what parts of last night were
real and which were a dream.
It's very difficult when the people from the night
before filter into your dreams.
So this morning I had to remind myself of the progression
of the night and the dreams I remembered.
This is the point in the whole day when I can feel raw emotions.
No one to see if I am happy or sad.

This is why I enjoy these times to myself.
I get to feel what I hide from people all day.
The root of who I am.
Sometimes I laugh to myself.
Sometimes I think of things I might regret.
And then there are days that I just appreciate what I have become
and love every part of my life.

Love to all...

C

Emptiness in my mind

My mind is pretty much somewhere else,
but I thought I should use this to try and find something different.
The other night at Barley.
I got the most wonderful compliments,
and had some wonderful conversations about my writing.
Things I hadn't thought about before.
Other things I should be doing.
I had motivation when I left.
Sadly though, I was greeted the next morning with...
a good ol swift kick back to reality in the way of sickness.

I think to myself, most times, that no one reads this.
Like no one but myself sees these words that are on here.
But I was wrong. I was happily wrong.
This is the kind of wrong everyone is glad to be.
I felt myself blush at one point.

I was so happy just by one reader.

My mind is a cloud today and yesterday as well.
I can barely complete thoughts.
I feel like my eyes are hardly open.
My head is so full of shit.
I feel like all I see is the emptiness behind my eyes.
I can't take anything else in.
I tuned everyone out yesterday.
I hope to God that tomorrow I start feeling like myself again.

This "blah" person is not me.
I would hate to be like this all the time.
Surely no one would want to be around me.
I hope that is not true though,
because I inevitably still going to try and enjoy my weekend.

Hopefully later posts will be much more interesting than this one.
Have a wonderful weekend everyone.

Love to all...

C

Hands that make something beautiful

I love poetry.
I have been in love with it for years.
Ever since middle school.
I read it quite often,
but still consider myself quite ignorant on many of the greats.

I have a book of poems that I find myself coming back to.
It was written by Jewel, called A Night Without Armor.
Some might be turned away by this but she was a damn good writer.
Some of these poems were written when she was quite young.

I used to have this book sitting by my bed at all times,
so when I would wake up in the middle of the night,
restless and unable to sleep, which happens quite often,
I could have it handy to read.

I have a whole book of poems I have written.
I may have two.
Middle school and high school was when I wrote them like crazy.
I remember one I wrote for my English class.
I think it had to be in Iambic pentameter.
I remember loving it. I was really proud of myself.
Much like I was when I finished my first real painting.

For some reason this popped into my head today.
My old poems and how I should be reading through them again.
Something might jump out at me.
I remember them being quite depressing though.
A friend of mine used to tell me I was unable to ever write a happy one.
I think he might have been right.

Maybe I will find one to post.
That would be interesting.
Is it sad that I am worried about copyrights?
I don't want anyone stealing my shit!

I miss the feeling of my pen in my hand as it glides across paper.
I used to be so good at just writing.
Pages and pages.
For hours.
I would stay up until the sun came up, sitting on my patio just writing.
Listening to everything around me.

I miss nights like that.
Being a little tipsy.
Smoking like a chimney.
But just writing and writing.

I remember this one specific blanket I used to wrap myself in,
because I knew I would be out there for hours.
My dog usually curled up at my feet.
At least one of us could sleep.

I will have to find some of those.
Post them.
Remember what it was like to be so inspired.
So motivated.


Sincerely unmotivated...
C

What's staring back...

Sometimes when I look in the mirror, I think to myself, Damn I look good. Other times I think (usually when I wake up in the morning) I look like I got ran over by a bus. I would really like to know if anyone likes how they look all the time. I look in the mirror before I get in the shower and pinch and poke and pull tight the parts of my body that I wish were different. Is that vain of me? Is there a part of me that feels like I need to be perfect? Obviously I know I am not, but every person has something they dislike about themselves. I am not sure how much of it I would actually change though. I am pretty satisfied at how I turned out so far. I definitely had some dodgy times in middle school when I thought there was no way I would ever grow out of my awkward phase. Which brings me to the fact that I need to hook up the scanner at home, so I can post some of these awkward times.

On another note, I found out today my brother is moving to Houston. It wasn't really a for sure thing until yesterday, and I am pretty bummed about it. He lives about 10 miles from me now and before I moved he lived about 2 miles away. I still would only see him about once a month or maybe even once every other month. But I always knew that if I needed him, he was close. If I ever had too much to drink, I knew I could call him. If I was scared about something I could always go there and take over his couch. I don't really like the thought of not having him close. Many people know he is one of my top three favorite people in the world. True, he lived in Hawaii for a year, and Stillwater for two years, but I have come to depend on him and I doubt even he knows it.

I recently had a situation arise that I really needed him to just be somewhere for moral support, and he came. I am pretty sure he had other plans, or plans of staying in, but he came anyway and it meant a lot to me for him to be there. So there is that. I wish he wasn't leaving. I am sure his girlfriend is just as upset as I am. Hopefully I can make my way there more than I have other places. Other than that there is not much I can do.

But back to the mirror thing. I sometimes think the mirror tells you more what you want to see instead of what is actually there. The picture that makes it to your brain from your eyes is not the same thing that your eyes originally see. I know girls who have severe distorted body images. So much so, I wonder how they can't see what other people see. One day I was leaving the movies and this bag-of-bones of a woman was walking in front of me. I couldn't believe my eyes. She looked so malnourished and unhealthy. I think it can be flipped though as well. I think a lot of people look in the mirror and choose not to see the unhealthy weight that is doing their body harm by being so heavy. I don't really know which is worse. Both are equally dangerous and both are equally fixed. I have never been either. Thank goodness. One day, my mother keeps telling me, my metabolism is going to slow down and I am going to either blow up or I will have to start getting serious about what I eat. Nothing like a good dose of reality every once in awhile, only a parent can give.

Love what you see in the mirror...
Love to all,

C

Patience, not just an awesome name

Never in my life have I been good at being patient. I hate waiting for anything. No matter how good for me it is to wait. So now I am trying my best to acquire this virtue. It is sad that I realize now that waiting is the biggest part of patience.

I keep telling myself I have to be patient with the whole book writing process. It will never finish itself or start itself even if I can't stand the process of making it. All the time that it will take. All the times I am going to want it just to be done. I don't doubt for a second that this will be the hardest part.

I have never quite understood why I have hard time with this. I think it has to do more with wanting to know the future of something before involving too much time or energy. My experiences with dating or lack there of lately is case and point of this. I rush things so that I don't have to invest too much, but after the last one, I realized I was no longer going to do that anymore. I was going to enjoy the time with the next person. Enjoying getting to know him. Which is exactly what I need to do in all the other aspects of my life. Law school or grad school? It's just one step at a time. I have to start looking at the small things instead of just the end result. I am sure the end result is important but I have to weigh all aspects to truly figure it out.

So many things to think about...my brain might start spilling out of my ears. If that happens, just scoop it up. I am sure I will need it later. Don't let that shit go to waste. Oh man, this is going to really suck, but I am sure I will be glad I did it later. It's like quitting smoking, yeah it sucks sometimes but in the long run it will be good for me. Damn life lessons.

Love to all,

C

Ah the holiday weekend

Seeing as I work in a hospital, and have for almost a total of 4 years, holidays don't mean much to me. I have had to work every single holiday at least once, but usually more than once. They are normal days to me.

This holiday though, I do not have to work, and I have worked it for years. In anticipation for having off the 4th of July, I thought of all the fun things I could possible do that I always seemed to miss out on in the years before. For whatever reason, no one has planned anything.

I am not much for planning myself, since I have diagnosed myself a severe perfectionist. I spend the days leading up and following cleaning ferociously. But here I am without anything to do but have people over. In desperate attempt to not become a cleaning maniac and an utter bitch to my roommate, I decided maybe I should go out tonight instead. Be a procrastinator and wait until tomorrow to do it, hoping of course I don't get too crazy and have a hangover from hell or worse, not getting any sleep.

I love the actual act of entertaining people. I don't like feeling like I have to though. Some might be thinking that I am setting myself up for disaster tomorrow, but alas, there will be drinks there to. Maybe just to calm some nerves. I don't pass judgement on anyone else's home, why would I think people would do that to mine. I love where I live, I love all my things (minus my bed, which I am hoping to get rid of eventually but that will cause another stint of perfectionism). So why should I feel freaked out by people seeing my humble abode. Who knows? It's one of my weird quirks.

I have always wanted people to feel like they could come over anytime. Like my home could be comfortable for them too. My old place was like that. I had people show up there all the time, maybe because it was on campus, who knows. I miss that though. I don't feel like that is the case anymore, for whatever reason. It's like no one does house stuff anymore, we all just meet somewhere. That's frustrating. I miss going to my friend's parents house and being okay with drinking too much and just crashing there. I miss friends having a key to my place, just in case they ever needed to come by when I wasn't there. I have had maybe 2 friends at the new place. Most people don't even know where it is.

So this weekend is my effort to make this place what I used to have. Hopefully it will go well. It may be a bust.

love to all.
C