My 1233

I used to write only at night.
In the depth of darkness,
almost waiting for the sun to rise.
Tonight I thought I would try
this old habit again.
I have a new job on the horizon
that I am so excited about,
I haven't been this happy,
well since October.
I feel like these past few months
are a blur of living in past moments.
Ones I try to remind myself of
daily, just to keep them alive.

As I sit at my computer, listening
to sirens outside my window,
I can't imagine not living here.
I really love this apartment, and
I will be very sad to leave it in
June when our lease is up.
Mostly I will be sad because this
feels like home to me.
The home a single person on my
own can possibly have without
some kind of family or significant
other.
My dream is to have a house, and
I know as June hangs in the months
ahead, that this will not be something
I can do yet.
I long for a home of my own. To fill
with my things, and possibly someone
else's, but definitely a place I can call
home for more than 12 months.
I hate packing, and leaving a place that
I know has nothing to remember me by.
Or more importantly moving to a place
that holds no memories whatsoever.

I think of my college apartment and
all the crazy times I had there.
The crazy blue carpet.
My huge room that I had two beds in.
My ugly couch, that ironically matched
the crazy blue carpet.
My built-in bookshelves.
The living room floor that I slept on, laid
and thought about my first night,
and that I did handstands on religiously.
My balcony, where I would sit and
write at the early hours of morning.
Of all the times I would walk down
the stone stairs and imagining myself
falling and the amount of damage
that would be done.
Getting locked out of my apartment by
the one other person that had a key.
My neighbor across the hall, and how I
would read all the notes left on his door.
So many parties, so many nights alone,
and still so many happy memories.

I don't feel like I have that here.
Like I know I will be leaving and so
the memories are lost on other places.

So in light of that old place I used to live in,
here are the words I found two years ago
to write about it.

"1233"
The gold sign on the blue door read "1233", my rented home for the next eight months. Inside held comfort and solitude. It was exactly what I needed.
The carpet was blue. It oddly matched the couch. The walls were newly painted white; I knew this because I still smelled the fumes. The room also smelled of mildew. That would have to be fixed. I took in all nine hundred square feet of empty space, trying to figure out how I would decorate to make it feel more like home.
I noticed the built in bookshelf first. This would be where all my books would go. The one thing that helped me through anything I had experienced thus far. I lay down on the carpet before any of the furniture arrived. The fan turning round and round with such routine. I wondered if I would ever get used to being alone in this place. Would this space ever feel like home? Like the home my parents had built for me. The home I had just left.
I walked out on the balcony and listened to the soothing water running at the pool below. I took in every sound I heard. These were the sounds I was going to have to live with for eight months. The water running below, the people outside playing football, the fire drills, the person underneath me playing video games at two in the morning; all these sounds I had to get used to in my new home.
I walked back inside, taking in the kitchen. Popsicles still in the freezer from the last person. Decent amount of cabinet space, since it was just me living there it would be plenty. The bathroom was small. The door almost hit the toilet when it opened. The shower and the vanity were only far enough apart to fit in a toilet and a cabinet. This would take some getting used to.
My bedroom was huge. I could fit about three of my bathrooms inside of it. I would have plenty of room for all my furniture and for whatever else I wanted to do with it. The closet even held all of my clothes. Walking back out of my room, I realized the floor made quite a bit noise. It creaked underneath my feet. The sound made me cringe.
Once it was full of all my furniture, I was left alone. Alone was a concept I did not know much about at that point in my life. Alone was definitely something out of the ordinary for me. I laid there thinking, now what? Now what do I do with all this time on my hands? This was my new home, I would have to make it mine. Fill it with all the things that make a place feel like home. At least the best I knew how.
First thing…pictures. I definitely had plenty of those. I pulled out memories of the past, some I wanted to revisit, some I did not. I placed the smiling faces all over the apartment. So everywhere I looked someone that cared about me was looking at me smiling. With all those good memories came the bad ones as well. The pictures of the boyfriend I had just left. The friends I no longer kept in contact with. The relatives I had started to forget. It was just me. I was on my own.
I felt like the world was somewhere else now. The nine hundred square feet of space was somehow separated from everything else that was going on. Surely no one would understand anything about me now. I had left everything behind. This place that smelled of mildew, was never the temperature I wanted it to be, and would swallow me whole. This was my home.
My life would never be the same after that place. Loneliness became a part of my everyday existence. I didn't want to go home at night because I was reminded how alone I really was. The boyfriend that I had left started to creep back into my thoughts which made the evenings much harder to deal with. So I did something else to keep myself from thinking of him.
Soon my evenings consisted of leaving my home and going to drink with strangers. I had become such a lush, coming home to my empty apartment no longer pained me. Alcohol was the remedy for my loneliness. I would be so hung-over the next day that the soothing water below would be annoying to my pounding head. The people playing football below would wake me up too early. The guy playing video games was now just a soundtrack to passing out.
Halfway through my eight months, I realized this was not who I was, so I got a puppy. Another life to come home to in the afternoon, someone I could not give up on. My apartment was then transformed. We were a team now. This was the home I would be proud of.
I got over the boyfriend I left, and I made new friends. This nine hundred square foot space suddenly became a home for me and my puppy. It was my solitude when I felt like the world was crushing me from all around. The large bedroom was my place of rest, relaxation, and contemplation, and I shared it now with my puppy. The kitchen was a place where my friends gathered to have dinner. The large living room was where I would lay and watch television or play with my puppy. The balcony was where I would sit, smoke cigarettes and write. I would write into the early morning, learning about myself with every word that formed on the paper. The bathroom was still small though.
Those eight months went too quickly. That space, that place I made my home, changed my life. I changed my major from chemistry to arts and performance, to pursue creative writing, which had become my passion. I changed my outlook on what defines me as a person. I became more independent. Alone in the nine hundred square foot space that was 1233.

"So this is the New Year, and I don't feel any different..."

Right before New Year's I remembered
putting all my old Death Cab songs on the
computer but realized they hadn't made
it to my ancient iPod.
So in the spirit of the holiday I put all of
the songs that made me "feel" things in
years past. First and foremost "The New Year".
I had no idea what to expect for 2010,
because to be honest, I loved 2009.
I loved the whole decade actually.
Sure there were dark times, but overall
it was absolutely fantastic.
So many memories just in 2009 that
spring to my mind already...

the Killers concert with Meg.
the 13-hour drives to and from Denver.
the Valentine's Day trip to Austin
with Mike and Meg and the amazing time
we had with Drew and Steve.
my birthday, it was the best one so far.
moving into the new place.
feeling lovely at certain times with a certain
person through the months on June
through October.
kickball games, or the raining out of most
of them.
Barley house and our infamous "games nights".
Halloween and being a blond for the first time.
Christmas Eve and Christmas day spent with
my parents, getting to know them all over again.

Certain memories flash through my mind that
I wish I could re-live all over again.
Ones that I wish I could have back just so I would
pay more attention and enjoy them more.
One specific was a last kiss. I want that one back
the most.
Simply because I didn't know it would be the last.
I flippantly shrugged it off like there would be more.
I wish I would have taken more time in that moment.
In that one day actually.

Which brings me to my resolutions...
I don't really like resolutions, because they
usually just bring a load of disappointment at the
end of the next year, but I have thought a lot
about the things that scare me.
The list is long. Quite long.
Some are typical, while others are very strange.
Not many people understand my fear of crickets.
But most importantly, I live in fear.
I have lived this way for awhile, sometime in
the last decade this started happening.
I am scared to death to trust people with
my feelings, because I am afraid they will either
let me down or hurt me.
So I hold tight to them, instead of living my life.
I constantly worry about how things are perceived,
instead of enjoying the sweet moments.

So this year, I am going to stop living in fear.
I will hopefully meet someone that I can trust
to give my heart to, and show him my true feelings.
I am going to stop being afraid of not being perfect.
I am going to stop being afraid of looking weak.
And maybe somewhere in there, I will get over my
fear of crickets too.

So this time around, I won't regret not living every
second of every kiss, even if it is the last.

Love to all in 2010.

C

"And wuv, tru wuv, will fowow you foweva... "

I went to my parents' house last night,
knowing I probably wouldn't sleep very
well and probably would be up far longer
than anyone else in the house.
I was happily surprised that my mom
stayed in the guest room with me
(since there are two beds in there and
because my dad has sick germs floating
around him) and we stayed up and talked
until 2 this morning.

One thing I asked my mother was if she
thought it was weird that I hadn't married
yet, or that I was nowhere close.
My mother being the most honest person
I know, told me "yes, at times".
She said she isn't worried about it, but
that sometimes she wonders as she
sees so many of her friends' children
getting married and having their
own children.

I wonder the same thing myself.

It seems that as people get older the
natural thing is to find someone that
you can spend your life with.
To start a new life of your own since
your parents no longer are your
companions.
Personally, I haven't really had the
drive to do any of that until recently.
I am not sure why I was so turned
off to the idea for so long, but
suddenly a switch went off and I
have a longing for someone else in
my life to have as a companion.

I have never believed that "love" is
a magic word or even a magic emotion.
I think just like every other emotion
it can come and go with the passing day,
passing hour or even passing minute.
I also believe "love" is not what keeps
people together.
I know the few people in this world that
know me enough to love me, would not
love me every minute of the day.
I know I can be difficult at times to even
put up with, let alone love.
I think people mistake that so many times.
They expect this grandiose "feeling" to stay
with them for years and years.
It just isn't a logical way of living.

I know I am picky. I know I am guarded.
I take my time. I don't think there is a
damn thing wrong with that.
I know my mom wants the best for me
and that she wouldn't want me to rush
into anything just because I felt pressure.

So with the new year approaching, I am
going to be doing things a little different
this year.
Not as many bars. Not as many bands.
Try to find a quality man. One that
thinks the same way I do about that
crazy thing people call "love".

all my love to all...

C

The domino effect

As I sit over my Cheerios at work,
I remember something my friend
told me the other day.
She told me that someone I knew
was broken.
After she said that I have constantly
been thinking of what makes a
broken person and if that person is
ever fixable.

I also wonder if this problem has a
domino effect with relationships
they are involved in after the fact.
They can't love so they in turn
hurt someone else which makes
that person broken also.
The process just goes on and on
until the whole world are incapable
of loving another person other
than the one that hurt them.

At what point do you become
broken?

Personally, I think I should be at
that point by now, with all the
failed attempts at finding someone
that makes me truly happy.
But for whatever reason, I have a
feeling, whenever another person
comes around that I "spark" with,
I will forget all about the past
failures.

I have seen this numerous times.
My family members have experienced
it even.
But everyone I seem to know that
is "broken" ended up with someone
that he/she could be with.
So at what point are they fixed?
Will they ever be fixed?
Will they ever love again?

I think so. I am just not sure what
type of person it takes to break
the domino effect.
To make them realize that everyone
is scared shitless to put themselves
out there, and possibly just to be hurt...
once again.
Maybe it just takes feeling so strongly
for someone for the risk to be taken.

I realized after all this was brought to
my attention that the broken ones
were the type of men that I was
attracted to, or the ones attracted to me.
It is a dead end road from the very
beginning.
Maybe it's the challenge of it all,
I don't really know (it must be
a part of subconscious that I
haven't tapped into yet).
Whatever the reason, it needs to
stop. The last one was enough.
I need an emotionally available
man, not one that can't get over
getting hurt in the past.
Lord knows I have gotten over it.
I still put myself out there, but
hey, maybe the feelings these
people have had for me just
aren't strong enough to get them
over the scared part. It isn't
worth it to them.

I am stopping the domino effect
right here. I will not fall over
with the rest.

Love to all...
because I still believe.

C

Ramble on

Well as luck would have it, I have a cold.
My head is full of fuzz and I can't breath
through my nose, or hear out of my ears.
I always seem to get sick when there is
something important lingering.
Friday is a step in a new direction for me,
hopefully.

I blame my lovely roommate for this
illness, because no matter how many
times I would "remind" her, she
refused to use my anti-viral Kleenex.
She went to the doc-in-the-box and
they gave her amoxicillin (dumb)
and sent her on her way.
This antibiotic of course is not helpful
for a common cold or even a severe
upper respiratory infection.
Sometimes I just want to slap these
people and tell them their years
of school taught them nothing.

Not much has happened with the
men in my life, they fade in and out
with each passing day, which draws
me to depend on them from less
to not at all.

I wish I had some great news to
bring up but hopefully next week
I will be busting at the seams with
good news, not today though.

I don't even really know what to
write since my head feels detached
from my body completely.

Stay well and warm...

love to all.
C

The past and the present

I have been dreading this entry.
It has crossed my mind at least 1oo times
since it happened and I know the only way
for me to make light of it, is to write.
To see it staring at me in my face.
It is much harder to hide from when it is
standing right in front of me, standing on
my toes, nose-to-nose.

After my last post, I had many hesitations,
but I finally decided to see the person who
had suddenly showed interest in being in
my life again, after so long of not.
"I should be nervous", I kept telling myself
as I was driving in his direction. I wasn't.
Anyone who knows me, knows I get nervous
about EVERYTHING. Anything and everything.
I took me awhile to warm up to the idea
that I was bringing two worlds together.
My past and my present.
I took him where I felt comfortable and
had planned to play a game with friends.
We quickly found ourselves talking only
to each other and not even paying
attention to the people playing the game.

We talked about a lot of different things.
I was racking my brain for questions to
ask him. I asked what I could then
found myself with nothing more.
I mean, what do you say to someone
you used to know so well and has
turned into this different person,
and all in good ways.
We talked about kids and families.
We talked about plans.
We talked about girlfriends/and the
lack of my boyfriends.

Then he hit me with something I
wasn't ready for.
I had been silent for awhile, trying
to think of things to talk about,
when he said, "you know, Caroline,
you aren't really the same person
you used to be."
I felt my breath leave my lungs
and struggled to get any air back
in them.
I was afraid he would say this.
"In a good way or bad way?"
finally I managed to say.
He said, "both".
Not in a mean way, but in a
completely honest way that I was
hoping he would never notice.
Mainly because I know who I am
now is not what I used to be,
mostly because I have become
very callused to the world and to
the things that upset me.
I would get a really huge dose of
this later in the night.

I was suddenly afraid that I was
no longer the soft, loving person
he remembered me as.
I thought of things he could be
thinking that I now resembled.
An empty shell of a person, one that
no longer has feeling in my face.
Maybe just a guarded person, that no
longer lets anyone in.
So I did what any person would do,
I quickly changed the subject.

The rest of the evening went more
smoothly after that point.
I talked freely about things in our
past. I talked about the things I
had recently gone through.
But then once again he said something
I wasn't expecting and something
I thought I wanted to talk to people
about until it actually happened.
He said he thought I was still wanted
the last guy I had liked.
My simple response was, "no, why would
I want someone who doesn't want me?"
At the time I said it, I wanted to take it
back, and say what I had said for weeks
now, that everything was fine.

It took a few hours for those words to
really sink in, and when they did, I
felt exactly what I thought I would.
I was glad I finally felt something
though, I thought there was no
way I would get over someone that
quickly and effortlessly.

I am glad to have my friend back in my life.
Glad to have someone who holds
so much of my past, but at the same
time scared to death of the ways he
could hurt me all over again.
I know he is different but there is
a large part of me that can't get
over things that easily.
We shall see, I suppose.

Love to all.

C

Surprises in unexpected places

Oh man, what a weird 24 hours I have had.
Yesterday I left my house once for groceries,
food for the dog and movies.
I had my pajamas on from the time I got out
of bed until this morning. I watched 3 movies.
I had a severe case of multiple personality
disorder in regard to my emotions.
One minute I would feel lonely, the next
angry and the following minute content.
I have no idea why this was happening,
I would get over each emotion quickly
and it would be on to the next one.

The loneliness lasted throughout the day.
It strung itself through all the other emotions
and would peak its ugly face all too commonly.
By midnight last night, I had enough.
I finally had to call someone just to have
someone talk me through it, maybe make
me laugh and forget about it.
As I tried to go through my strong support
system, I found myself calling the one
person that I knew had to be going through
something similar. The one person who had
earlier in the day said a prayer for me without
asking questions or expecting praise.
I called my first love.
The person who broke me entirely.
But also the person who has made such a huge
turn-around in his life, that even I (being the
cynical person I am) can't believe it.

We haven't kept in very good contact over
the past 2 years, mostly by my decision.
Just a phone call here and there to make
sure we were still alive and where we were.
Recently, we have been talking more often.
I have realized he is now the person who
I knew he could always be.

So I called last night, waking him of course,
but he still answered and talked to me for
almost an hour. When he had asked how
my day was, I had simply said fine at first
then as the conversation progressed I
ended up telling him I was lonely and
didn't know how to make it go away.
He said he understood how I felt.
As we continued to talk he finally told
me that there was something he had
been wanting to tell me for awhile but
he didn't know how I would
react when he told it to me.
Then he dropped the biggest shock of
my year: he told me loved me...
I am not sure if he told me that as a
friend or as something more.
My response after a moment of silence
was simply, "why?"

I have always considered myself an
unlovable person. Someone no one
could really love, no matter what my
feelings were towards the other person.
I even wrote a monologue to myself
about this specific thing, giving
explanations and examples of why
this was true for me.
I never felt this way because I didn't
want to be loved, but because since I
was 19 years old, no one has.

So one can only imagine the impact
these few words meant to me.
His reasoning for saying them or the
intent he has tacked on them doesn't
matter, he had just proved my theory,
the one I that followed me everywhere,
wrong.

I woke up this morning still sad about
spending my first holiday completely
alone, but those words still ringing in
my head; not to get some kind of romantic
hopes up, but just knowing someone could.
This person knows me very well. We dated
years ago and were friends up
until about 2 years ago, close friends at that.
He knows what I look like without make-up.
He has seen every phase of my hair.
I have seen/met/and gave advice about his
many girlfriends.

Not many people I am close to approve of
our contact, merely because they know what
kind of relationship we had before.
But like I told him, no one understood that I
always saw him for the person I knew that
was hidden somewhere inside.
I had given up on ever seeing that person,
which is why we lost contact.

So all this for the fact that I had a blessing
last night, hidden somewhere that I never
expected it.
Those are the moments in life that I love.
The surprises that I never saw coming.

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you.
I am thankful for everyone that is in
my life. You are what keeps me going,
smiling, dreaming, and believing in good.

Love and thankfulness to all...
C

My life is no longer simple

Two weeks ago I made a very hard decision
and decided to hold off on grad school until Fall.
This obviously wasn't my first choice, but the
closer the semester came, I realize how
unprepared I was for my entrance exam and
how the funds were just simply not there to
pay for it (along with my other bills).
It was really difficult to try and not feel
disappointed in myself over not getting
it all in on time and not studying harder.
I have to keep my momentum up until
Fall so that it not just another pipe-dream.

On the same day as this hard decision, I had
another decision made for me. The person I
had finally told my feelings to, decided to tell
me he did not feel the same. Of course, I was
disappointed to hear this, but for some reason
had a positive outlook regardless (which is
something very new to me). I did not get
upset, I did not blame myself or him for that
matter, that things didn't work the way I wanted.

I started my part-time job and find myself in the
finishing days. I haven't jogged in these few weeks
and my body is slowly showing the signs of this.
I have a least been trying to climb numerous
flights of stairs while at work, to keep some
kind of exercise going. I have probably gained
that five pounds back that I lost a month ago,
but eagerly plan on getting back into my
normal routine once my schedule gets back
to normal.

I have been slacking severely on my writing,
and that is also showing signs of decline, but
I have at least been reading and I hope to
start painting again very soon.

My social life has taken a dip but I feel it for
the better. I enjoy myself more when I do
get to go out, and I don't stay out as late
even if I don't have to get up early.

I try and live my life without regrets, and
I feel that this past month is no different.
I have forced myself to do more than I
thought I could as far as working two jobs,
and I have managed to get over someone
I never thought I would without struggle.
I have kept my thoughts more positive,
and all my options open as far as meeting
new people and getting to know them.
I have re-kindled friendships (ironically,
and without my effort) with two of my
ex's over the past month, and I have
really enjoyed getting to know each of
them again, they have both changed a lot.

Moving fast and moving forward.
Keeping my mind clear and my heart
open. I have been praying more, which
I had kept at a minimum for a long time.
I feel stronger and I feel more happy with
myself and the decisions I have made and
will make in the next few months.

I am thankful for so many things this year
for Thanksgiving.

Be happy and well...

love to all.
C

You may think I have gone missing

The closer the deadline gets for school, the more stressed I am about it. My entrance exam is next Tuesday, and I am trying to study as much as possible. As well as getting all my paperwork in. My fuse is low lately, as I am trying to keep everything all together.

I start my part-time job tomorrow. It should be interesting. Not that I haven't worked with my mom before, I have many times, but this time I am going to work there before my other job. Which means I will be getting up around 7 every morning and not getting home until between 10 and 11:30 at night. This also means I will have no social life for the next 4 weeks. Since the job is just seasonal, I just have to get through 4 weeks. I will probably be a frazzled mess but oh well, I need the extra money in the worst way.

Not much else is new. My mind has been taken over with school stuff and every once in awhile other thoughts are thrown in there that are negative, so I have been trying to busy myself so those negative thoughts have nowhere to thrive. It's a very intense battle though.

The good news through all of this is I have lost 5 pounds in a week. Maybe it was the week I was sick, who knows. I saw my rib bones in my back which I haven't seen in years. I no longer have love handles anymore. All around, I am happy about it. I just have to keep up the exercising, which is going to be really hard now that I don't really have time to do it. I will try to figure something out. I have noticed that exercise keeps me happy though, which is why I need it right now to get through all that stress.

Send prayers, good thoughts, good vibes, etc. my way next Tuesday and the next few weeks.

Love to all.

C

Tough few days

This last week has been wild. Last weekend was nice. I got my happiness fill for awhile. Then as things usually do, everything went to shit. Monday was normal, Tuesday I had the day off, wasn't feeling so hot, by Wednesday I felt like I was on my death bed. My throat was all swollen and I was finding it hard to swallow and talk. I decided to go to the doctor when I realized I had a temperature of 100.7 (which is a really high fever for me since I have such a low normal body temp). I found out I didn't have the flu, but just a virus. I got my medicines and made my way home to stay on the couch for a couple of days. And I did just that.



Friday I went to a show, which it was nice to get out of the house. I had cleaned frantically all day. I was happy to be outside of the apartment. The weird thing was that with my medicine, I haven't been tasting things since I started taking it. It is either nothing at all or some odd taste. First my Popsicle tasted like popcorn. My drinks had no flavor. It was a very weird experience.



Then yesterday, good 'ol vertigo showed it's ugly head again. I was really having a hard time having this many problems. So I laid on the couch for the remainder of the evening. Right before I went to sleep, for the second night in a row, I have severe anxiety. Last night I tried to calm myself down with writing, but even that wasn't helping. So I just went to sleep. Only to wake up this morning feeling even more upset and dizzy.



I tried to get through my morning with normal thoughts, but everything I had thought of the night before was coming right back to mind. I realized last night how utterly afraid I am, and it's something I have to get over before I can move on in my life. Nothing will ever work easily if I am always afraid. But where to start?



I drove to work after a week of not being here, trying to calm myself down. Wanting to cry or freak out, just something to make me feel better. I almost called about 5 people, but never went through with any of them.

Negative versus Positive

I am probably not in the best mood right now to be writing, but maybe it will do me some good. I am stressed with all the school stuff I have to get done and pay for within the next month. I don't know how ready I am to have homework and tests again. I am scared that I will be overwhelmed. And as always I am fearful of failing at something that is so costly and time consuming.

With all the stress of school, and the free time being filled with MAT studying and trying to finish my application process, my apartment is in shambles... which drives me crazy. I have been trying to clean a little everyday before work, but it just seems to get dirty again by the next day. It's just been too much to get it clean.

With all the stress and stuff, I decided this week I was going to start working out regularly again. So I have done some form of exercise everyday this week except for today (it was one of my two days off a week). I also cut out caffeine. I haven't even had Sprite (which I love so very much). I ironically have more energy from the exercising so that I don't need the caffeine. I feel so much better when I get up in the morning, and I haven't been sleeping 10 hours a night, I have been averaging around 7 actually. I don't feel as tired throughout the day. And when I do sleep, it is much more restful.

Last night I noticed I am getting calf muscles which I haven't seen since cheerleading. And my little bicep is poking out now when I flex. I am still not exactly where I would like to be, but it's a start and if I keep it up I should start seeing results.

I am learning about myself a lot right now. I have realized terrible trends in men I am attracted to and what I do to make these relationships fail. And yes, I make them fail. Nine times out of ten, I am the reason they fall apart. Yes, none of them would have worked regardless if I hadn't put a death sentence on them, but I kill them long before I get anything from them. I used to blame the other person a lot, but I know now it was my own doing. I didn't know I was doing it until now, but since I do I realize this is a hard habit to get rid of. My usual self wants to take over and I am finding it hard to shake all the negative thoughts I am used to having. But I am attempting it. The past few weeks have been filled with little sleeping and lots of thinking. I was glad when I started jogging and stuff and I finally slept through the whole night without waking up from terrible dreams or crazy thoughts. I am learning to turn off my negative mind, and start to listen to my positive one.

My positive one is telling me it will all work out. I am going to trust that.

Love to all...

C

To all the little ones...

Today was one of those days.
I feared coming to work.
Yesterday we had a new baby
transfer to us, born at only 24 weeks.
For those who aren't aware, that
is a little over half of regular term.
I left last night, hoping and praying
for this little one.
I saw him with my own two eyes.
A tiny, little guy that could fit in my hand.



I get to work today and the first thing I
check is to see if he made it through the night.
The first night is always the hardest.
There he was, still with us.
I was so happy. This little one had beat
the odds of being so early and only
weighing a little over a pound.



Sadly, my excitement was brought to a halt
only a few hours after I got here.
The baby had passed on...
I, by no means, know what this must be like.
I don't even know what it is like having a child.
I can't even fathom having to deal with
something of that magnitude.
All the people with young children that I know
have healthy kids.



This brought a memory though.
I remember when my grandmother died,
it was the first time someone I was really
close to had passed away.
I remember at her funeral, my cousin and I
walked around the graveyard looking at headstones.
We got to particular part that was for babies.
I remember seeing how old all of them were.
So many innocent little children that were taken
so early.
I had lost someone who had lived a full life.
She had watched her children and most of her
grandchildren grow up.

I just can't imagine...
It makes me thankful for the many people in
my life. The ones I can still hold on to.
And the ones I had to let go of.
And even though I am only 26, I have had
a great life so far.

I am going to go hug little Dillan next time
I see her and thank God that she is healthy.

Life is different and sometimes sucks, but
at least I have it.

love to all.

C

The new hurdles for the future

So I finally figured out the course of the career

path I am going to go. I decided to get my master's

degree in Library Science to be a librarian.

I was trying to figure out if I wanted to get it

in either Creative Writing or LS.

After much thought and conversation with

friends, I decided that a Master's in CW wouldn't

do much more than the Bachelor's degree I

already got almost a year and a half ago.



So I have to take my GRE, beg UNT to take me

even though my GPA is low, and figure out how

I am going to fund all of this without as little debt

as possible. So my track is set, now I just have to get started.



In other news... I have been having a tough time

in the boy department for awhile now, but

recently has become so much more complicated.

I don't even know how to explain it because

I just keep telling myself to leave it all alone.

Saying good-bye and coming around full circle

Saturday my brother left for Houston.
When I dragged myself out of bed at
8 that morning, I was so tired I couldn't
really think of how tough the day was
actually going to be.
My mom, my dad, my other brother and
my brother's girlfriend all helped clean his
empty apartment while the movers moved
it all into the truck my brothers would drive
to Houston once it was all finished.
We finished close to 11 and started saying
good-byes. The severity hadn't yet
crossed my mind that morning.

I was fine until my mom standing next to
me, waving bye to my brother as he drove
away, said to me, "I wasn't ready for this.
For him to move away again."
That's when it finally hit me. At that moment.
I felt my eyes stinging. I knew what this meant.
But I couldn't let it happen yet.
I still had to go to Home Depot with my parents.
We then went to eat some lunch.
Then they helped me put together my "potty" for
the dog that we had purchased at Home Depot.

Once they left, it didn't take but 60 seconds for
the tears to rush to my face.
I laid on my couch for a good half an hour.
Kleenex after Kleenex.
Tear after tear.
Memory after memory.

Sure I know that some may see this as a little
much for someone who is only moving four to five
hours away from me, but that wasn't the issue.
I was crying for my support system breaking apart.
I stared at my eyelids and watched the numerous
memories of the two of us.
Him sleeping in my room for a good year when I
was in elementary school.
All the times I would need even the smallest favor.
They all played back like a slide show film.
All the images blurring with each tear that past
before them.

I told myself this was silly. He was still just a phone
call away. I could call and visit.
I got in the shower and then went to Dana's to hang
out with her and Dillan. This was the best idea, and
I was completely unaware of it.
Dillan made me so happy. Watching a two year old's
innocence and love for so many things.
She started learning my name.
She pushed my hair out of my face, which she does
to her own.
It made me glow with happiness.

One window opening after a door closes.

Is love greater than life?

This past week has been rather interesting.
Work was slow at the beginning of last week,
then like it usually does, it got super busy.
And it hasn't slowed down yet.
The social life has been just as happening as usual.
Trying not to go out as much, and when I do,
to tone it down a lot more.

Last week though, not sure which day it was,
I had an interesting thought cross my mind,
that I have yet to shake.
I thought, how can I possibly think of all
the failed relationships and think that I will find one
that works, and not just for awhile but forever.
I wanted to know what the percent of lasting
relationships compared to those that failed,
either by divorce or whatever.
I am not talking about just liking someone
and the person just not feeling the same,
I am talking about years of two people
trying to make a life together.
I really want to know statistics.

Surely now, it is much more common for
things to crumble, with divorce being so high.
So why is there a thought still put in almost
every woman... or man, I guess, that there
is one person that will just work and that
this person will never leave you?
I am not at all trying to be cynical, I am
just wondering from a scientific perspective
how often this actually happens.
1 out of 5?
1 out of 10?
1 out of 1000?
How many people have a relationship last?
I want to know what I am up against.

I also want to know why we have been
raised to think unrealistically about the situation.
I know people start every relationship hoping that
it will be the one to last.
But I want to know, at what point do you realize
you have hit your maximum?

I have technically, in my adult life, loved one person.
Of course it didn't work.
I was devastated for quite a long time.
But I start every other new endeavor
with the idea that this person might be the one
that will not hurt me,
this person might love me until I die.
This person might love me when I am old,
and my looks have faded.
But how often does that happen?
Is this a foolish thought process to have?

My parents are a perfect example
of a lasting relationship.
They are still going strong over 30 years.
They are a great example for my brothers
and myself.
At the same time though, I see so many other
people my age that come from broken families.
Is it enough to come from a family where your
parents are still together?
Or does the fact that someones parents didn't
stay together give them a higher rate of not
having a lasting relationship?

I remember now when these questions
got stuck in my head,
I had just walked out of seeing (500) Days
of Summer. This movie made me think
of someone like myself.
Someone who has a grand idea of love.
Only to be hurt and wonder if anything
will ever come again.
Now I just want scientific evidence to show
me if this is something I should consider.

I am much a fan of loving even if loosing,
but I wonder at what point do you throw your
hands in the air and say, "Enough is enough."
I want to be happy, but being happy doesn't
ride on just someone else making me happy.
I have learned how to keep myself happy.
I just want to know if all these years of being
told that I will be able to trust someone completely
down the line, is something that is true.

Love, in every sense of the word, to all...

C

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