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.