I guess it's been a balls-ass long time since I've updated this. And a lot of shit has gone down since June of this year. A LOT OF SHIT. I guess my profanity levels have grown exponentially as well. Anyway, an update on my life right now: one of my only two friends here in Santa Barbara wants to bone me and the other... is the other. Don't get me wrong, he's great but not one you go to the movies with and such. Anyway, so I finally got out of Flagstaff. Santa Barbara, here I am. It's been a very tough semester -- not because of school but because of all the drama in my life. The whole roommate situation didn't exactly work out. Not that I think Anna was a bad person; we had a lot of fun times and I could never fully hate her, but shit was just not working out. I guess I just need my own room, my own space to exist in. Sharing everything is just not in my nature. Anyway, so there was the roommate situation and that was hell, and then I managed to contract Mono somewhere along my slow path to college (didn't get it here, got it back in Flagstaff --'). Probably one of the most miserable months of my entire life, mono. And I still refuse to share drinks with people because I'm afraid I might have some trace of it...
Anyway, that's my life right now. I had a hard time deciding whether or not I wanted to move back to Flagstaff with my family. I thought for sure that I did but then I went to Thanksgiving and realized that I don't think I'll be able to live with my mother ever again. I love my mom to death, believe me, but she is just too intense to live with. I think it will be good to have occasional breaks and trips home though. Winter break, spring break... It'll be good. Looking forward to next semester, actually. Taking four classes all back to back on Tuesdays and Thursdays so that will be intense but I hope I can manage. No classes on Monday or afternoons Friday, which (as my dad so kindly pointed out) means that I can get a job. Ha! Me?! Job!? That's preposterous!
I noticed that people usually write blogs about something bugging them or something relevant in general. Maybe I'll start doing that. But probably not. I'm the only one who reads this anyway.
<3 Mumford <3 and <3 Sons <3
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Moblog
I begin this blog with no relevant thought processes occurring. No synapses fired to make me want to do this, however there are a few things I would like to get on paper, (or bytes or whatever).
I just finished talking to a good friend of mine about his relationships, and how I hoped that when he was old I hoped that he had someone to share it with rather than spending his life alone wishing he had settled down. Clever boy that he is, he came back at me with a Fitzgerald quote: "It was always the becoming he dreamed of, never the being." And at first I didn't really get it, but now I see the true meaning behind it. It's a matter of success vs. happiness. It's like those cheesy motivational posters that taunt you with wise sayings you never really understand until you actually get bored enough to think of what they're trying to tell you. "It's not about the destination, it's about the journey." As far as I can tell what this poster is trying to tell me is to "Live in the now." And yet, there is mention of a destination. So what I think the makers of this poster were really getting at is "Have a goal, but have fun getting there." Because if you simply live in the moment entirely, then the moment catches you and pulls you into the undertow, and you'll end up somewhere in an alley scrounging for your next fix... It's a balancing act of living for happiness and living for HAPPINESS; the latter being the eventual success and happiness that comes with that success, while the former represents the happiness you achieve when you eat a really large cup of ice cream. So for the most part, I think I've got this whole business under control. I do have a goal, and I plan on reaching that goal, but I'm not too worried about how I'm going to get there and how long it will take and what kind of connections I will make before I get there. It doesn't really matter as long as I DO get there, and that I enjoy the journey along the way.
On that subject, I would like to congratulate someone in my life for seeing through the moment and grasping onto a future that has always been sort of dangling in front of her. I won't name names, but this someone has managed to pull herself out from the ruins and made something good from it all. In fact, I'd say I know two people in that exact situation. One who's already made it to her destination, and the other who plans on embarking on this journey with me.
On another subject entirely, check this shit out, it will make your fucking day: http://www.drtoast.com/departments/toast-news
Going to bed in the wee hours of the morning again (aka fucking my life over), I'm signing off.
Dear World, I love you.
I just finished talking to a good friend of mine about his relationships, and how I hoped that when he was old I hoped that he had someone to share it with rather than spending his life alone wishing he had settled down. Clever boy that he is, he came back at me with a Fitzgerald quote: "It was always the becoming he dreamed of, never the being." And at first I didn't really get it, but now I see the true meaning behind it. It's a matter of success vs. happiness. It's like those cheesy motivational posters that taunt you with wise sayings you never really understand until you actually get bored enough to think of what they're trying to tell you. "It's not about the destination, it's about the journey." As far as I can tell what this poster is trying to tell me is to "Live in the now." And yet, there is mention of a destination. So what I think the makers of this poster were really getting at is "Have a goal, but have fun getting there." Because if you simply live in the moment entirely, then the moment catches you and pulls you into the undertow, and you'll end up somewhere in an alley scrounging for your next fix... It's a balancing act of living for happiness and living for HAPPINESS; the latter being the eventual success and happiness that comes with that success, while the former represents the happiness you achieve when you eat a really large cup of ice cream. So for the most part, I think I've got this whole business under control. I do have a goal, and I plan on reaching that goal, but I'm not too worried about how I'm going to get there and how long it will take and what kind of connections I will make before I get there. It doesn't really matter as long as I DO get there, and that I enjoy the journey along the way.
On that subject, I would like to congratulate someone in my life for seeing through the moment and grasping onto a future that has always been sort of dangling in front of her. I won't name names, but this someone has managed to pull herself out from the ruins and made something good from it all. In fact, I'd say I know two people in that exact situation. One who's already made it to her destination, and the other who plans on embarking on this journey with me.
On another subject entirely, check this shit out, it will make your fucking day: http://www.drtoast.com/departments/toast-news
Going to bed in the wee hours of the morning again (aka fucking my life over), I'm signing off.
Dear World, I love you.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Do you remember?
Do you remember,
when I told you not to fuck with me?
Do you remember,
when I made it clear this isn't just a game?
Do you remember,
When you agreed with me all the time?
Do you remember,
When it seemed like all we had was right?
Do you remember,
Falling asleep to each other's breathing
Do you remember,
Those dreams you used to have?
Do you remember,
Laughing at everything we had in common
Do you remember,
The way we could talk about anything?
Do you remember,
The way you made me feel
Do you remember,
Avoiding me like the plague?
Do you remember,
The day you broke my world apart?
Do you remember,
Telling me I wanted more than I could have?
Do you remember,
The desperate way I clung to you?
Do you remember,
The tears I shed over you?
Do you care,
How much you still mean to me?
Do you even give a shit,
That you're killing me?
Do you remember,
That this is not just a game.
Do you remember,
That I would never fall for you again?
when I told you not to fuck with me?
Do you remember,
when I made it clear this isn't just a game?
Do you remember,
When you agreed with me all the time?
Do you remember,
When it seemed like all we had was right?
Do you remember,
Falling asleep to each other's breathing
Do you remember,
Those dreams you used to have?
Do you remember,
Laughing at everything we had in common
Do you remember,
The way we could talk about anything?
Do you remember,
The way you made me feel
Do you remember,
Avoiding me like the plague?
Do you remember,
The day you broke my world apart?
Do you remember,
Telling me I wanted more than I could have?
Do you remember,
The desperate way I clung to you?
Do you remember,
The tears I shed over you?
Do you care,
How much you still mean to me?
Do you even give a shit,
That you're killing me?
Do you remember,
That this is not just a game.
Do you remember,
That I would never fall for you again?
Monday, April 5, 2010
Today was...
A good day. I guess. When I don't get enough sleep I tend to overreact at small stuff. Like that college that made it so far in the NCAA, or whatever. I cried. I didn't make a big deal of it 'cause my dad was right there but I cried. Sleep just makes me do crazy things. Like sleepwalking. Or snoring. Or whatever.
As I write this I imagine George from Dead Like Me reading it aloud. Now, if you've seen Dead Like Me, you are also seeing it that way. Ha. You've fallen into my trap.
Anyway, I've been thinking a lot in the last ten minutes of where I am and all the people I had to hurt/lose to get here. Some of them I started hating; some of them started hating me. Both are equally upsetting. To lose someone important to you is almost like losing a camera. Not only did you just waste a couple hundey, but you also lost all the memories and photos that were on it. Once you lose a friend, you not only lose that person's shoulder to cry on, and their winning personality... but you also their memory. Not just because it starts to fade; but because those memories are now tainted, either with sadness or anger... Or merely just an emptiness that can't be filled. For me it's all three. The ones who left me in silence, there is a hole there. The other ones who left me in anger, there is anger. The ones who were condescending; fuck them.
But the ones I left... There is a need to know that they are okay. That they live on without me.
That's probably why I am an active stalker of Myspace accounts.
Today I made a quiche. It's not really the best quiche in the world, but it's alright. Tomorrow is my turn to bring lunch to work. Woohoo! Who knew something so delicious would be so easy to make?
Dad and I also found a salamander in the basement. He was just chillin' in the water 'cause it's flooded down there from snow melt. At first, we just put him out in mom's garden hoping he'd crawl under the rock or something. I think he was a little too weak for that because after 10 minutes he was still in the same place, so I got a big plastic container thing and put him in it with some dirt and some water. Now he's in the garage.
..Dad told me salamanders are supposed to be hybernating right now. We have no freaking clue how he got into the basement or how long he had been there. I'm just glad dad saw him before he dried up.
Anyway, this is turning into more of a journal entry than philsophy on paper. Or internet. Or whatever. I just feel like some day I'll come back and look at all these entries and remember all these things that happened to me... I don't keep a journal. I think I kept one in the third grade or something. It's filled with notes and things about this boy I used to love. In fact, now that I think about it, my heart was first broken in the third grade or so. Maybe 6th.
This other boy who I had the biggest crush on in pre-school all the way through 1st grade, I found out a few months ago that he died in a car crash. Such a tragedy......
Normally I would elaborate on that point, but for now I'll leave that end loose. I'm exhausted. Today was a good day, except the quiche was mediocre and the salamander might not live.
Love always,
-Cait
As I write this I imagine George from Dead Like Me reading it aloud. Now, if you've seen Dead Like Me, you are also seeing it that way. Ha. You've fallen into my trap.
Anyway, I've been thinking a lot in the last ten minutes of where I am and all the people I had to hurt/lose to get here. Some of them I started hating; some of them started hating me. Both are equally upsetting. To lose someone important to you is almost like losing a camera. Not only did you just waste a couple hundey, but you also lost all the memories and photos that were on it. Once you lose a friend, you not only lose that person's shoulder to cry on, and their winning personality... but you also their memory. Not just because it starts to fade; but because those memories are now tainted, either with sadness or anger... Or merely just an emptiness that can't be filled. For me it's all three. The ones who left me in silence, there is a hole there. The other ones who left me in anger, there is anger. The ones who were condescending; fuck them.
But the ones I left... There is a need to know that they are okay. That they live on without me.
That's probably why I am an active stalker of Myspace accounts.
Today I made a quiche. It's not really the best quiche in the world, but it's alright. Tomorrow is my turn to bring lunch to work. Woohoo! Who knew something so delicious would be so easy to make?
Dad and I also found a salamander in the basement. He was just chillin' in the water 'cause it's flooded down there from snow melt. At first, we just put him out in mom's garden hoping he'd crawl under the rock or something. I think he was a little too weak for that because after 10 minutes he was still in the same place, so I got a big plastic container thing and put him in it with some dirt and some water. Now he's in the garage.
..Dad told me salamanders are supposed to be hybernating right now. We have no freaking clue how he got into the basement or how long he had been there. I'm just glad dad saw him before he dried up.
Anyway, this is turning into more of a journal entry than philsophy on paper. Or internet. Or whatever. I just feel like some day I'll come back and look at all these entries and remember all these things that happened to me... I don't keep a journal. I think I kept one in the third grade or something. It's filled with notes and things about this boy I used to love. In fact, now that I think about it, my heart was first broken in the third grade or so. Maybe 6th.
This other boy who I had the biggest crush on in pre-school all the way through 1st grade, I found out a few months ago that he died in a car crash. Such a tragedy......
Normally I would elaborate on that point, but for now I'll leave that end loose. I'm exhausted. Today was a good day, except the quiche was mediocre and the salamander might not live.
Love always,
-Cait
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Destruction
I am so fucking low right now it's ridiculous. I've cursed so many times this past hour I can't believe it. I don't give a fuck about anything right now, I'm self destructing and that's how the night will end; curled up with a fucking pillow once again. Alone, again. What is with people and fucking leaving? What is it with people hating me when I haven't even done anything to them? Perhaps they can smell something on me. I'm trouble and I don't even know it. Seriously, though. It's happened three fucking times. I replay the scenarios over and over again in my head thinking, is this where I went wrong? Is this the beginning of the end?
I know I should give it up. I know I should just stop caring. But it's so hard to stop caring about the only thing worth acknowledging in a world that seems so irrelevant. Why shouldn't I cling to the only thing I give a real shit about? Is it insecurity? Is it that one day you might wake up and wish you had someone other than me? What is so wrong with me that no one seems to like? Is it the cynicism? Is it the overwhelming attachment? Is it the fact that I answered every fucking one of your text messages? Why are people so goddamn afraid of someone giving a shit about them? Don't get me wrong, I'm the same way. Someone gets attached and I automatically move away. Is it because of all the crazy sad things that happen when two people are attached to one another? Or is it just the fact that you see the more annoying side of people when they're only there for you?
The other night my sister's boyfriend told her "have fun and goodnight, hun." She completely ignored it and didn't respond. I would give anything in my world to have something like that. To be able to respond with a "Thanks sweets, you have fun too, sleep well, let's do lunch tomorrow. Love you, night."
This is simply the ballad of a broken heart. Tomorrow I will thank God for being single, so I can avoid the pain of companionship. Deep down some where, though, there's still a part of me that loves the drama. That wants that ache in order to feel alive. That part of me will always be the smaller yet louder part of my teenage angst that just wants someone to have and to hold.
How many people before me have thought this? How many people before me have written famous poems and soppy movies and boring plays about this very subject. The truth is... they were all right. How meaningless is life without someone to share it with? ..... What is it in human nature that needs companionship? I mean, sure, there are other species out there who find a mate and stick with them for life. But with people, we go through about 20 mates before we find that one we "spend the rest of our lives with"; mostly ending in divorce or unhappiness. Why is it we need to feel the pain of love and loss? Is it the drama? Is it true that it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all?
Perhaps. Yet I know plenty of people who have ended up on their own, with kids and no house to call a home, and $25 says they would rather have not lost.
So I'm stuck at a dead end that only looks towards a cliff face and a 200 foot drop off. There are plenty of fish in the sea, they say, but what if I don't want those shitty fish? What if I want the last remaining Leafy fucking Sea Dragon? He's Just Not That Into You taught me one thing. I cannot be the exception. I have to be the rule. And if the rules say I will be unhappy the rest of my life, I'm saying fuck the rules, let's go get high and fuck hookers in my trailer parked next to a California Condor nest.
I mean, really, I could give you the whole fucking world if you just gave me the time of day.
I know I should give it up. I know I should just stop caring. But it's so hard to stop caring about the only thing worth acknowledging in a world that seems so irrelevant. Why shouldn't I cling to the only thing I give a real shit about? Is it insecurity? Is it that one day you might wake up and wish you had someone other than me? What is so wrong with me that no one seems to like? Is it the cynicism? Is it the overwhelming attachment? Is it the fact that I answered every fucking one of your text messages? Why are people so goddamn afraid of someone giving a shit about them? Don't get me wrong, I'm the same way. Someone gets attached and I automatically move away. Is it because of all the crazy sad things that happen when two people are attached to one another? Or is it just the fact that you see the more annoying side of people when they're only there for you?
The other night my sister's boyfriend told her "have fun and goodnight, hun." She completely ignored it and didn't respond. I would give anything in my world to have something like that. To be able to respond with a "Thanks sweets, you have fun too, sleep well, let's do lunch tomorrow. Love you, night."
This is simply the ballad of a broken heart. Tomorrow I will thank God for being single, so I can avoid the pain of companionship. Deep down some where, though, there's still a part of me that loves the drama. That wants that ache in order to feel alive. That part of me will always be the smaller yet louder part of my teenage angst that just wants someone to have and to hold.
How many people before me have thought this? How many people before me have written famous poems and soppy movies and boring plays about this very subject. The truth is... they were all right. How meaningless is life without someone to share it with? ..... What is it in human nature that needs companionship? I mean, sure, there are other species out there who find a mate and stick with them for life. But with people, we go through about 20 mates before we find that one we "spend the rest of our lives with"; mostly ending in divorce or unhappiness. Why is it we need to feel the pain of love and loss? Is it the drama? Is it true that it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all?
Perhaps. Yet I know plenty of people who have ended up on their own, with kids and no house to call a home, and $25 says they would rather have not lost.
So I'm stuck at a dead end that only looks towards a cliff face and a 200 foot drop off. There are plenty of fish in the sea, they say, but what if I don't want those shitty fish? What if I want the last remaining Leafy fucking Sea Dragon? He's Just Not That Into You taught me one thing. I cannot be the exception. I have to be the rule. And if the rules say I will be unhappy the rest of my life, I'm saying fuck the rules, let's go get high and fuck hookers in my trailer parked next to a California Condor nest.
I mean, really, I could give you the whole fucking world if you just gave me the time of day.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Shitty Poetry
This stanza doesn't have a hook
A line or even a
Sinker
This poem has no point
meaning or even a
Moral
But what I'd like to believe
probably more than
Anything
Is that even though these
Words are bullshit on
Paper
Maybe you'll read them
Some day and you'll think it's
Great
That I wrote it for
You and that I'm trying so
Hard
For you to just
Like me.
A line or even a
Sinker
This poem has no point
meaning or even a
Moral
But what I'd like to believe
probably more than
Anything
Is that even though these
Words are bullshit on
Paper
Maybe you'll read them
Some day and you'll think it's
Great
That I wrote it for
You and that I'm trying so
Hard
For you to just
Like me.
BrainFREEEZZZEEE
I spent this morning looking for cool new techno music to put in my Youtube video.
I got stuck in a Youtube loop; I didn't know cyanide&happiness had a youtube channel?!
So, earlier, I sent a message to one of my old friends on Facebook who had removed me. I asked why would he do such a thing. He proceeded to call me a bitch. So I told him to have a good life. "As if you care." Wow. I do fucking care. I care about every single person I know, regardless of whether I outwardly hate them. I'm trying to not let this bug me, but I hate knowing someone hates me for misguided reasons. Move on, Cait. Move the cock on...
Anyway, my bff's response to this bullshit was: "you didnt fuck that kids life up, he was always constantly saying off the wall shit to you in order to get you to respond and when you refuse to indulge his attempts he gets frustrated and has the audacity to call you a bitch hahaha get the fuck outta here with that shit."
Thank you, friend.
Anyway, the motivation required to put effort into blog posts isn't with me today. I got in a blogger loop as well, decided it was probably time to update mine. I think writing is a state of mind. I don't live in that state. Cock and balls, cock and balls, cock and balls, cock and... wait what?
Do you know what the word 'bombast' means? It's my new favorite word. It means "pompous or prentious speech or writing". I've adopted this word to describe a certain few people in my life who think they're the best thing since swiss cheese. You know the standard know-it-alls? Well, these people take prententious to a whole new level.
Just because I laugh when someone shouts "balls" does not make me immature.
Dear blogger; when am I going to get over my self-destructive self-demeaning ways, and finally find myself worthy of more than just suppressive assholes?
I'm getting there.
I got stuck in a Youtube loop; I didn't know cyanide&happiness had a youtube channel?!
So, earlier, I sent a message to one of my old friends on Facebook who had removed me. I asked why would he do such a thing. He proceeded to call me a bitch. So I told him to have a good life. "As if you care." Wow. I do fucking care. I care about every single person I know, regardless of whether I outwardly hate them. I'm trying to not let this bug me, but I hate knowing someone hates me for misguided reasons. Move on, Cait. Move the cock on...
Anyway, my bff's response to this bullshit was: "you didnt fuck that kids life up, he was always constantly saying off the wall shit to you in order to get you to respond and when you refuse to indulge his attempts he gets frustrated and has the audacity to call you a bitch hahaha get the fuck outta here with that shit."
Thank you, friend.
Anyway, the motivation required to put effort into blog posts isn't with me today. I got in a blogger loop as well, decided it was probably time to update mine. I think writing is a state of mind. I don't live in that state. Cock and balls, cock and balls, cock and balls, cock and... wait what?
Do you know what the word 'bombast' means? It's my new favorite word. It means "pompous or prentious speech or writing". I've adopted this word to describe a certain few people in my life who think they're the best thing since swiss cheese. You know the standard know-it-alls? Well, these people take prententious to a whole new level.
Just because I laugh when someone shouts "balls" does not make me immature.
Dear blogger; when am I going to get over my self-destructive self-demeaning ways, and finally find myself worthy of more than just suppressive assholes?
I'm getting there.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
