Weekend

ok, loves.

I've been way too in my head the last few days, and haven't posted anything for fear of word vomiting all over my blog. I think I'm together enough (at least at the moment) to hash out some sort of semi-coherent statements.

Next weekend I'll be heading to Bmore for Twenty's birthday. WOO CHA. I'm really excited to head back and hang out with a couple of my favorite people on the whole planet. We've got plans to hear Maya Angelou speak at U Balt, Hit up Brewer's Art and head to DC for Sticky Fingers -- and that is just the start. I'm pretty sure we plan to relive some college moments with body shots -- yes, body shots -- and other such debauchery. I'll be sure to keep you posted on that excitement.

Looking forward to the weekend, as I have no real plans other than heading to Howl at The Moon this evening. It's rainy and gross so I'll probably be staying indoors avoiding all the cleaning my townhouse desperately needs.

I am the Scarecrow

If I only had a brain...

... I would put together a coherent thought.

Many apologies for the lack of updating, but my synapses are not firing properly. Once I get my shit together I do a real update... just wanted people to know I hadn't given up the blogging. I refuse to publish a post that is total shit (I'm sure this makes some of you wonder about some of my other posts, and what qualifies as shit...)

Approval

I must say, my weekend rocked.

There was nothing overtly spectacular about it -- did the crawl, went to Raleigh to Hang out with the Swanson crew and stopped in Chapel Hill to see The Great. It is always encouraging to me to spend time with people I love, who are honest and supportive, especially since the big move. We spent a lot of time playing the ever popular rock band, and it... well, rocked!

I always become introspective on the drive home from visiting people, mainly because I have open road and no one to talk to (The Hub always sleeps). Visiting Mama Swanson just made me think about the time I spend going to visit her at college -- a period of time I feel that I some how forgot about. It was right around the time my mom died, and I was a mess. I made lots of poor life decisions, and treated people like crap who didn't deserve it. I didn't finish college, and just generally had no regard for anyone but myself. It is painful to remember how selfish I acted, and even more painful to know my friends understood why I acted that way and continued to love me. This makes me ridiculously thankful for my awesome friends who put up with all my crap, and had late night conversations about nothing and everything, plus offered me massive cuddle time when I most needed it (the biggest honor on that goes to CarCar). Basically, reflecting back on all that time seems foreign. It is like I watched a movie about it, and am trying to recall the details.

When mentioning to Mama Swanson that I was a total slacker, and finally getting my butt into gear and going back to college, she very graciously reminded me that I was in fact dealing with things that most people don't deal with at my age, and it is perfectly acceptable its taken me a while to get my shit together. I know I don't need approval from anyone, but it's nice to know I have it anyway.

Crawling

Just had a great evening!

Met up with some friends in NoDa for our first Charlotte Gallery crawl. I was immediately surprised how difficult it was to find parking! Even in the chilly weather, every where seemed to be pretty busy. The Hub and I met said friends at a small coffee house, Smelly Cat, and were introduced to the guy who would be playing music for the evening. After grabbing a quick chai, we decided to peruse some galleries, promising the evenings musical act at the coffe place we'd return. The first gallery we stopped at was populated by college students showing their art. They all seemed nervous and over eager, but the art was surprisingly good. A piece with political connotations caught my eye, and after asking the artist about it I was dissapointed that he didn't have more to say about the politics of the piece... it seemed it was kind of a spur of the moment art work. Which I suppose is fine, Art does not need an agenda. The students were talkative and generously poured the free wine, overall not dissapointing.

We moved on to the next gallery, which seemed to have a more varied crowd, and more experienced art work. Overall it was enjoyable, but I certainly don't understand the price tags on many of the pieces! Not that the works of art aren't beautiful or moving or fun or interesting, but I can't see paying 8000 for an artist I've never heard of. I suppose it is considered an investment?

In the spirit of not boring my Hub, we decided to stop at a bar, Dolce Vita, where I partook in the fabulous and under appreciated Framboise! It was fantastic. Listened to a great guitar/violin duet there (part rock, part classical, I loved it). It was the kind of place that made you feel simultaneously at home and as if you were in a special, intimate place.

Back to the Smelly Cat. More Chai. Josh and Dane (who, if I could find his webpage, I would link it. Sadly, I cannot) was fantastic! The kind of chill, acoustic perfect coffee house music that I love. He played a mix of originals and covers, all of which were thourghly enjoyable. It made me miss my guitar. I enjoy the small, arts setting and definitely hope to hear them again!

Great night. Looking forward to catching up with old friends tomorrow!

For now, pug is snuggly, and I must comply with his furry demands.

Snippit

More from the book -- still from the beginning, I'm not really ready to post some of the more intimate parts of my life. Obviously, I will have to get over that soon.
Please, also, keep in mind that this is rough. Rough, rough, rough. No editing. I am trying to give people an idea of where I come from without it being too lengthy. I definitely plan on expanding on this -- but as a snapshot, this is what I've got. I considered posting a longer piece, but this is still my baby, and again I'm not ready to put too much out there!
Here it goes --

As a child I never thought there was anything extraordinary about my life. My parents were still married, I had two sisters, two dogs, two cats, nice house… none of these things seemed remarkable. I was a happy child, and given opportunities that until I was an adult, I did not appreciate. My Parents met in high school and married young. My father, who was in the Marines, moved my mother and himself to California, away from their native New Jersey. It was here they birthed 3 lovely daughters. The oldest being Michelle, then myself, then Ann. After kids, my parents decided they wanted to be closer to family and so we moved back to the east coast. A small town on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, a blip of farmlands and beaches, where I spent a large part of my adolescence. It is the same as every small town America you see in the movies: partially segregated, wholly religious, and mostly redneck. I went to church on the weekends, played in the middle and high school band, and played capture the flag with my friends from youth group.

Seeing this snaphot of my life, one might begin to wonder what it is that I could offer. Growing up in a white middle class life doesn’t generally afford the kind of drama required for lifetime movies or heart wrenching memoirs. This is where I tell you that things are not always what they seem. As cliché as that is, I suppose there is a reason for it. And so, dear reader, I begin to divulge the details of my life.

Umm...

Despite my down and dreary rain-days, I am still riding on my high of finally being able to make a decision. I realize that this isn't a huge accomplishment to some people, but when you've been a slacker for as long as I have, it's the small things that really count. As ridiculous as this sounds I feel like I'm starting over. I'm leaving all my bullshit, all my excuses and just going for something I want. Who knew it would feel so liberating?

In talking with The Hub about it (as I must, even though it is ultimately my decision I figure I should consult the person who will have to deal most with my insanity) he is ridiculously supportive. There is no hesitation on his part when it comes to this decision. I have more insecurities about it than he does, which I suppose is good. In talking to my friend Rar about the situation he has made a couple good points. First, I'm probably not as big of a slacker as I think I am and Second, Other people almost always have more faith in you than you do in yourself. Both of these I believe are true, and so I will soldier on until I actually start doing something that makes me feel accomplished.

Looking forward to going to a gallery/bar crawl tomorrow night -- it's in the Arts District here (dubbed NoDa) and I've wanted to check one out since we moved, and am finally getting the motivation to do so.

Silver and Gold

Ugh. I hate how much the weather affects my mood. Before I even got out of bed this morning I could feel how dreary it was. (it's raining) My knees ache, my back hurts and I just have a generally unfavorable attitude. This resulted in my not having the motivation to work out this morning. Which means I must do it tonight, despite my lack of desire to anything except for sleep!

I went on a "new friend spree" this weekend. This is a good feeling -- I always enjoy meeting new people, and it is exciting when you think those people could become a bigger part of your life. Friday was a girls night, where I had to deal with intolerable, drunk, idiots who can't take hints (although, only for the last 15 minutes or so. The rest of the evening was quite enjoyable) and Sunday was meeting a new couple (who also have an adorable pug!) and going for a walk and watching stupid movies with them. Overall it was very nice.

Okay, I'm going to stop writing for the sake of writing... perhaps I'll have something more interesting to say later...

Motivation

I am seriously motivated at the moment. I don't know what happened to cause this, but I'm running with it!

I know that at many points you've listened (or read, rather) to me deliberate over what it is that I want to do. Well, friends, I think I'm finally taking a step in the right direction! I went to the local CC to check some things out, and I will be starting there part time in the fall. They have a program that works directly with UNC, so as long as I don't suck and keep my GPA up (which shouldn't be an issue) I'll be able to just transition right over. I think I've decided on an English major with a minor in Women's and Gender Studies, then going on to get my Masters in English (linguistics? not sure of that specification, yet) and possibly a graduate certificate in Women's Studies. YAY FOR DECISION MAKING. Now, we'll see how many times this changes, but I actually feel really confident about the English thing. Journalism is not quite the track I want to be on, although I wouldn't rule out doing something in that field in the future. I'm not sure if this is true or not, but to me it seems that English is a bit more flexible of a field to have a degree in. I do think I'd eventually like to teach college, but I also think that working for an NPO (like the HRC) would be something right up my alley. Who knows. Actually finding a job would be a long way off!

Okay, I can't lie to you and say it's all happy. I am actually scared shitless. Really. But I feel good about the decisions I am making for myself. I am not focused so much on "what if", and am happy to be doing something for me. While this might delay other life goals a little bit, I think that ultimately this is what is going to make me feel happy and secure.

So, cheers to me for making a decision.

Lets see how many times I change my mind :)

V Day

I feel as though I need to make the obligatory Valentine's Day post. While I think it is a ridiculous holiday, I appreciate the sentiment behind it. So, here goes...

I feel very lucky with the love I receive from all aspects of my life. In the many relationships, in the many forms, I am blessed. And this love is something I feel on a daily basis, something I am also thankful for. While I may not be with all the ones I love all the time, I hope that they know who they are, that I miss them, and that above all I love them.

<3

I also think that everyone should take a moment and check this out. Just a reminder to treat everyone in your life with respect. Violence against women (anyone, really) is unacceptable, and I believe that through education, love, patience and perseverance this is something that we as a people can overcome.

Cynical?

I don't consider myself an aggressive driver. Ok, I DIDN'T consider myself an aggressive driver until moving to Charlotte. While the Eastern Shore never offered much in the way of traffic, my frequent trips to Baltimore and DC afforded me with the opportunity to lane switch, speed and generally be obnoxious with the crowds on the Beltways. Hell, compared to people who drive 695 daily, I'm a meek driver. Here however, I've some how turned into this testosterone laden maniac who cuts people off, lane switches and yes, I have even flicked someone off here, (although I feel those were extenuating circumstances, there was a school bus involoved). All the drivers here are so friendly and I just don't know how to take it. People let you in when you need to get over. The make a break for you when you need to cross the street and traffic is backed up. Practically noone speeds. When I drive the speed limit here, I pass about 85% of the people on the road, and forbid me to go 5 or 10 over the limit -- I'd look like a speed racer! What is it about the South that causes people to be obnoxiously polite and friendly? And this is not just on the road, it is EVERYWHERE. In grocery stores, banks, malls. I'm apparently too cynical for this.

Morning After

Ok, so last nights rant may not have been my most eloquent writing, but sometimes that is all there is.
I'm doing better this morning, although still feeling a bit gross. Much of my irritation last night was brought on my good ol' victoria's secret. I went to buy a bra with a gift card I'd gotten for my brithday and looking at myself mostly naked while trying on said bra was rather dissapointing. In the dim, soft lighting of the dressing room, with a bra that gives me good, but subtle cleavage would usually make me feel great. But seeing the bloated, mushy mess that was my stomach had a less than stellar effect on my mental status. I have always struggled with self-esteem issues, and not just because of societal pressure, hollywood role models, blah blah, etc. Certain events in my life definitely made me doubt my self worth, and this translates into Carol-feeling-crappy. Now I realize that by normal standards I am not fat, or chubby or even a little over weight. I could use some toning, but over all I'm in decent shape. I have always been critical of my body, and it worsened with The Ex. I became anorexic at one point, due largely to his insults, and that is certainly a path I do not want to go down again. Having said all that, it doesn't mean I have to be happy with what I see. I am currently trying to do something about this, but in a world where food pretty much translates into socializing it is difficult to not eat. Plus, I enjoy food. I don't see eating as just a means to survive and nourish my body, I love the taste, texture and feeling I get from eating certain foods.

Oh where, oh where is the happy medium?

Bitch

Do you have those days where everything feels like it sucks? You feel fat, bloated, gassy, and just a little bit ridiculous? If you're a woman, the answer to this question is YES. I'm not sure if men feel gassy and bloated, but they sure as hell should feel ridiculous sometimes.

I'm settling down with a glass of 2 buck chuck cabi-savi and hoping to pass out shortly.

That's all I've got for today, unless I add a big fuck you to my womanly hormones.

The Write Stuff (oh, c'mon)

Recently I have been contemplating what the hell it is I would like to do with my life. Writing is definitely at the top of that list, and what a long list it is. I have the fortunate (or unfortunate) circumstances of having parents who believed in me, and always told me I could do whatever it is that I wanted. Well, here I am at 24 and i still believe that. That belief coupled with my wide range of interests makes it rather difficult to pick a career.

I have come to the decision that I should in fact go back to college for something to do with writing -- whether is be journalism or English, I have yet to decide. While I think I would enjoy teaching, I only think I would enjoy teaching College level or High school level kids who were actually INTERESTED in what they were studying. So, public high school is basically out. I'm planning on taking a course or two at the community college this summer/fall to see how I do with that. It's been a while since I've been in classes, and I may suck at it. Not that I don't think I'm smart enough, because I know I am, it's just a different mind set, and being married and working while going to class should be interesting. Sometimes I feel that in order to really dedicate myself, I'd need campus housing and no distractions, but that is certainly not going to happen at this point.

Another one of my "road blocks" to this goal is my extreme fear of failure. Again, not that I don't have the intelligence, because I do, but that I just won't do well. That I'll finish school, get my masters, and still be a total failure at a job. That I won't be able to find something I actually enjoy doing, because what I want to do is write. I realize that writing is considered self-indulgent to many people, but I need it. Writing is the reason I don't go totally insane, and I've just really realized this recently.

Maybe I'll get lucky, get a book deal, and go on Oprah and I won't have to worry about this. It could happen, right?

Irish Car Bomb

This has been a spectacular weekend. It started out perfectly with my morning of solitude, and continued to bring a smile to my face right through this very moment. Aside from the sudden, much needed burst of spring in early February, I was surprised with an evening where I was able to be myself. No censoring, no pretending, just good ol' Carol -- ridiculous liberalness, drunkeness and hilarity ensue. It's been a while since I've been in situation where I've managed to make myself the center of attention, and I loved it. After having a mostly quiet dinner with friends, The Hub and I met up with a group of his friends from work, only one of whom I really know. Well, thanks to my inebriated state I was able to entertain a table of people for the evening without making an ass of myself. This is something I definetly used to do all the time. Whether it be at parties, at a dinner or even just a casual meeting I adore the feeling I get from making people laugh with me, and also being able to add a little bit of shock in there as well. I have fairly vanilla looks, and so one might assume I have the vanilla personality to go along with it. In fact, one of the girls last night proclaimed that she thought she would have to censor her language around me, because I looked like a rigid church goer. I proved her wrong, and it made a good time for all involved.

Flip Flops in February

This is my morning. All mine. The beautiful day has put me in a fantastic mood, and as I now sit in a small bakery/cafe eating my french style breakfast I feel that today could not get any better. I have been constantly around people for the last few days, and I needed this refresher for myself. No matter how much i love anyone, I can only stand so much of them. I need long moments to take in the hodge podge of thought in my brain and this quiet morning get away should do the trick.

Sitting here, sipping my coffee and looking out the window at the skyline of a city which used to mean nothing to me, I feel that I have made the right choices. While Charlotte may not be as large as NYC or as old as Baltimore, there is an appeal to settling here. In places, this appears to not be a city, but just a collection of neighborhoods that some how ended up in the same place. The diversity of the work force, the houses, the attractions is lovely. Who knew in this large industrial building on a road with houses that have seen better days, I would find such a lovely retreat, complete with comfy couches, eclectic decorations and french music. Who knew that in a city dominated by finance there would be Andy Warhol exhibitions, an art show entirely devoted to coture fashions, and a small but wonderful art district completed by its own dog bar.

It is strange that I have found myself at home so quickly. Strange that while it can take me years to warm up to people, I have started to fall in love with this city so quickly.

I suppose it could have something to do with the fact that I am wearing flip flops in February.

Sunrise, Sunset

Being reminded of my mother is always a difficult thing, even when it is in a positive way. Yesterday I was reminded of my mother in the terms of mortality, and that was devastating. I learned that someone from the church I went to with my mother has cancer. Apparently he’s had it for a couple years, and I just didn’t know. I don’t know how bad it is, or what the prognosis is. Now, this is not someone who I’d say I’ve had a close relationship with, but it is someone who I have a lot of respect for, and who has made an imprint on my life. He played trumpet with my Mom at church, and is someone who is always upbeat and friendly. He has a love for music that is evident to anyone who knows him, and has definitely encouraged me in that area.

So, of course, being a selfish human being (I say this in general, not just me) I think of my mother. And how much I still miss her. And how after almost 7 years there is still an ache so deep for her, I can not tell where it begins. I think of the years I had with her, and cry for the years I don’t have. I think of the times when I would lie in bed next to her, and how she always made everything better, no matter how big or small. I think of the times I was stubborn and selfish, and how unfair that was to my mother, but also feel glad she was there for my sullen teenage years. I think about how she will not see my children, did not meet my husband. I think of how my kids will only know their grandmother through my memories. It continues to break my heart that my sisters and I are the representation left for her, as I believe she did a much better job herself. It hurts every time my father tells me how much I look like her.

Through all this all I want is, for these people who I barely know now, to not have to experience the loss I have. Not yet.

Dreams?

Sleep has been elusive these last few weeks. With restless nights, and active days, this makes for one very exhausted blogger. My “dreams” (if they may be indeed be called that) have moved from their usual abstract terror into nightmares I simply can not make sense of. What is even more baffling is that in my dreams I am usually terrified, to the point that I will wake up with tears on my face, or physically lash out, and in these bizarre monkey-bone worthy nightmares I feel no actual fear. I don’t know what to make of this, or if there is anything to be made. The hubs wants me to go have a sleep study done, or something, but I’ve been to lots of doctors for the no sleeping thing, and they just called it PTSD (from Vietnam, you didn’t know I was a Vet? Ok, no disrespect to the people fighting for our country. I am no veteran, and never plan on being one). I’m sure it has to do with the less than savory events from my childhood, or the loss of my mother at an early age, or any number of the crappy things that I have been subjected/subjected myself to in the short years of my life. I’d just like to be able to do something about it that didn’t require me developing a dependency on drugs.

Ok, I was planning on elaborating more on this, but am feeling rather sad at the moment (just found out some very sad news), so I’ll finish later

Hrm...

I'd like to go get my nose pierced soon.

We shall see how this develops.

Split

Sometimes I feel as though there are two sides of me and, like a coin, I can never make them show at the same time. I try very hard to always stay true to myself, but what happens when these two sides are not only opposite, but conflicting? I believe part of this comes to my ability to block out emotions or feelings. I am often able to separate things that other people might not be able to. I suppose the down side to this separation is that when I can’t keep it up any longer, I crash. I know everyone acts a little crazy from time to time, but wonder how much crazy is socially acceptable in one person. How many times am I allowed to fuck up before my apologies mean nothing? Simultaneously wanting two things at once almost never leads to good results, and almost always ends up hurting someone in the process. This a crumb I have come to find over and over and over in my life, and each time I just sweep it away, until I find the next morsel and realize perhaps my mistake could have been avoided this time. Maybe it is in my nature as a writer or artist that I could never let myself feel completely and totally, one hundred percent, satisfied. Or maybe I just have a terrible case of the-grass-is-always-greener. As for now, these two sides are existing harmoniously, but what happens if I am unable to control it for ever? Is this just my human nature?

Letters

Now that Foo is off and in the army, our main means of communication is through the written word. Sending and receiving letters is something I have not done in a long time -- aside from perhaps holiday cards. I find that I really enjoy it, and am resolving to write more people. While I write all the time, sending it off to someone makes me feel accomplished and, especially with Foo, like I am going to have a positive impact on their day.