tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76634780394541486362024-03-12T17:16:12.697-07:00are you calling me phat?Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16755829084527990966noreply@blogger.comBlogger33125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663478039454148636.post-30644257099629658842012-01-09T16:02:00.000-08:002012-01-09T16:16:28.701-08:00last monthIn the past month, I.....<br /><br />celebrated Christmas with family, a welcome difference from last year, which I spent alone due to work constraints.<br /><br />Marked the passing of my great-aunt Pearl, an extraordinary woman, at the age of 101.<br /><br />Rang in the new year with an old friend and a roomful of new ones.<br /><br />Wished someone who'd hurt me best of luck with everything, and meant it.<br /><br />Got a new job! Full-time, benefits, regular hours and <em>it's not retail</em>.<br /><br />Life's a struggle, but the hard times always subside. It's just hard to remember when you're in it. And if I live be 101, I should try to relax and stop stressin'.Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16755829084527990966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663478039454148636.post-85912780531868243452011-12-02T17:35:00.000-08:002011-12-02T17:36:10.908-08:00up-and-downFeeling a little bipolar lately.Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16755829084527990966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663478039454148636.post-38114633928302194472011-11-29T11:41:00.000-08:002011-11-29T11:43:37.485-08:00future.Last night I got an e-mail from my past self (FutureMe.org). Talk about a mind-fuck. I need to better my life. I have way too much time to think, and that's never good. It's just a conveyer belt, going 'round and 'round. Time to throw some action into the mix.Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16755829084527990966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663478039454148636.post-30641935824205569452011-11-22T20:29:00.000-08:002011-11-22T20:30:48.234-08:00frenemyI wanted to say to her, "Maybe if you lost your attitude and superiority complex, you'd realize there's a whole lot more this world can give you than what you currently have."<br /><br />Then I thought, <em>hey, girl, that's good advice, now turn it back 'round on yourself. </em>Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16755829084527990966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663478039454148636.post-85111082895533657342011-11-20T21:56:00.000-08:002011-11-20T22:07:19.079-08:00lonelyI am alone. Impatiently alone. I want someone, some partner, whom I love and who loves me, and I want him <em>now</em>. Impatient like tonight at work, at 5:30, when I'm off at 7 and just wanted to go home, right then. Because all the bullshit I had to slog through to get to 7 (which turned out to be 7:50, because oh, 7 means closing, don't you know?) was just that - bullshit. Fold the clothes, hang the clothes, tweak the fucking clothes. Make sure everything's perfect, and then you're released.<br /><br />I want him, my future boyfriend, my future love NOW (does he exist? Are my hopes implausible? Do I sound like an oh-so-dreamy Twilight-loving tween? God I hope not).<br /><br />The thing is this: I want someone who makes me laugh, whom I make laugh. A good kisser. We love being near each-other. I'm happy to see him. He's happy to see me. We walk down the street and he takes my hand. He'll kiss me, out of nowhere, just because.<br /><br />All the sweet, romantic shit. Hell yeah, I want that. I want someone who I adore, who adores me. Will I find that? Will I? Does that exist? Someone whole, and unattached, and lovely? Will I find that - and equally important, will someone find me and think all these same things?<br /><br />Tonight, I sleep alone. I wish I had someone next to me. A warm body to reach for. A comforting face. That would be nice.Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16755829084527990966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663478039454148636.post-16225639001966056322011-11-19T15:14:00.001-08:002011-11-19T15:14:46.849-08:00twisted.Life's a cosine curve.Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16755829084527990966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663478039454148636.post-57923040632900091362011-11-16T21:36:00.000-08:002011-11-16T22:02:40.382-08:00sad.I wonder, sometimes (all the time).... what the hell is wrong with me.<br /><br />Hm.<br /><br />One good thing -- the first time, ever, my editor has responded to my story saying she couldn't fit all of it in the paper, but it will all go online. No edits. (But I don't trust that I won't get a phone call tomorrow.)<br /><br />Hm.<br /><br />There's a new kid at work. He's my new best friend. We have identical senses of humor. We can chit-chat. He's going to fix me up with his firefighter friend. Manna from Heaven?<br /><br />I saw an old face yesterday. I missed it. Saw another old face today. I didn't miss that one.Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16755829084527990966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663478039454148636.post-15877333584272528852011-11-16T06:53:00.000-08:002011-11-16T06:57:55.943-08:00well.Board of Ed meeting last night. I continue to think two weeks is the perfect measure of time to see the small changes in your life.<br /><br />Oh, and I hate these meetings. They are so boring, and I can never seem to write a good article.<br /><br />So I'm sitting here, laptop on the lap, notes by my side, photos (which the editor will hate) already loaded and attached to the email.<br /><br />And nada.<br /><br />I don't want to write. Deadline's in two hours. It would take me one, if I would just do it.<br /><br />I am not a good worker. I am not a good writer. I don't know what to do.Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16755829084527990966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663478039454148636.post-33248150183329914502011-11-14T20:44:00.000-08:002011-11-14T20:47:02.981-08:00backI've been busy. Away to D.C. for three days with the mom and sister. Oh, such a fascinating experiment to throw three female family members together for an extended (?) period of time.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBQF58SVKoSe8goAbXVLS6UHw41t84bYlzbZjjU0khXJpCgoNSZziGoYWqdqYyvGoPsNMmdyb7dDUDaLkNhSzULom8Dn9ZY1cdWauD5rkXQzaDFgIL_0QLUrzxYrJjJ8pbVwGZx64L5Z0/s1600/IMG_4775.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675079142550464690" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBQF58SVKoSe8goAbXVLS6UHw41t84bYlzbZjjU0khXJpCgoNSZziGoYWqdqYyvGoPsNMmdyb7dDUDaLkNhSzULom8Dn9ZY1cdWauD5rkXQzaDFgIL_0QLUrzxYrJjJ8pbVwGZx64L5Z0/s320/IMG_4775.JPG" /></a> It was a lovely trip.Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16755829084527990966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663478039454148636.post-49244088099619061832011-11-07T18:06:00.000-08:002011-11-07T18:17:31.117-08:00thoughtsI want to write, but what about?<br /><br />A list of random thoughts, alrighty!<br /><br />-Work has been crazy-busy, but it occupies the mind.<br />-When you're left to sit still for too long, my mind goes to bad places.<br />-This includes, lately, every night when I turn off my light to sleep. The thoughts come too fast. Always the same one. <em>Don't believe the things you tell yourself so late at night. You are your own worst enemy, you'll never win the fight.</em><br />-Shocker, hormone levels effect your mood. Break. Ing. news. Turns out there was a reason, other than a flaw in my personality, that I was in tears last week.<br />-Living alone can get lonely. (Sure, I have a roommate, but she's just a roommate, and we're passing ships in the night. I miss living with my friend.)<br />-A phone call from a friend can relaly brighten the day.<br />-ONE nice customer can totally change your mood.<br />-So can a bad one.<br />-So can stepping away and taking a breather.<br />-I will always appreciate a new and undiscovered source of good writing.<br />-Francis and the Machine - Shake it Off. Listen to on repeat.<br />-Life is crazy.<br />-Life is boring.<br />-Life is repetitive.<br />-It can change in an instant.<br />-But change can be gradual, or dramatic.<br />-Fear is the thing that holds us back. Fear is the strongest thing we will ever build, and its strength relies entirely on our own self-delusion.<br />-Inactivity is a manfiestation of laziness, complacency, and perhaps fear.<br />-Christmas music should really not start until after Thanksgiving. November is for turkey, December is for Santa.<br />-Ditto on the Christmas decorations. Why should Christmas get two whole months of celebration? Makes me dread the holiday.<br />-Editors can be the nitpickiest creatures.<br />-Duh, that's what they're paid for.<br />-Freelancing is hard when you have a full-time job.<br />-I'm grateful for my job, but I sure wish it paid more. Like, double.<br />-Still: thankful.<br />-Alright, that's enough.Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16755829084527990966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663478039454148636.post-16326665473338812452011-11-06T19:12:00.000-08:002011-11-06T19:13:06.244-08:00HOT<a href="http://mysoberyear.tumblr.com/post/12291023382/day-2-consent-and-why-it-is-so-fucking-important">http://mysoberyear.tumblr.com/post/12291023382/day-2-consent-and-why-it-is-so-fucking-important</a>Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16755829084527990966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663478039454148636.post-69029849852361176132011-11-01T14:39:00.000-07:002011-11-01T14:45:32.790-07:00doing something hard > easy way outTo the guys I've liked, who completely dropped out of my life --<br /><br />It <em>IS</em> hard to make a phone call, explaining that you're not that into me/don't want to be involved/ want to cut off contact.<br /><br />It's hard, and uncomfortable and awkward, and you don't really know what to say. So, you don't like me anymore. You can't explain attraction. It's there or it isn't. Maybe you liked me a week ago, and today, not so much. Or life's circumstances arose, and.....yeah. Explaining something is hard.<br /><br />But guess what? The injured party appreciates the thought. Also, the dignity of being recognized as a human worthy of a fucking phone call - which is not a lot, but also is.<br /><br />So I picked up my cell phone and dialed his number, and said I'm sorry, I've been thinking about you the past few days, and I'm not ready for a relationship. And I'm sorry, I really am, it's me and my own issues, and you're a really nice guy, and I feel bad - but it's just the way it is.<br /><br />It's better than the coward's way out, is all I'm saying.Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16755829084527990966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663478039454148636.post-18599278052152780252011-10-28T22:35:00.000-07:002011-10-28T22:36:15.782-07:00thought.This is hard. I had no idea.<br /><br />Well, maybe a little.Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16755829084527990966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663478039454148636.post-12565886877688353632011-10-27T19:02:00.000-07:002011-10-27T20:01:03.328-07:00day of friends.Rainy rainy day. Day off work. Got to spend the entire day visiting different friends, chatting about everything. Most people hate the rain, but I love it. Love the cold, gray drizzle and sloshing of puddles.<br /><br />song lyric of the day: "I'm ready to suffer, I'm ready to hope."<br /><br />Short post today, not much on my mind.Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16755829084527990966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663478039454148636.post-91459909310457968112011-10-26T21:48:00.000-07:002011-10-26T21:50:56.731-07:00there's-a-lesson-in-there-somewhereSometimes the customer who comes in ten minutes before the store closes, messes up your displays and talks LOUDLY with her friends will be the one who chit-chats with you at the register and treats you like an actual human being, then apologizes for coming in late as she doesn't like being the "reason" the mall isn't closed yet.<br /><br />Funny.Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16755829084527990966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663478039454148636.post-46411738199615416812011-10-25T22:17:00.000-07:002011-10-25T22:23:52.804-07:00twingeSaw Paranormal Activity 3. Now sitting on the couch with every light in the apartment on (not the bathroom, so not "every")-- what was that? Nothing. You imagined it. It's dead silent. Dead. Deadly. Ummmmmm, OK, anyway.<br /><br />Wrestling. There's something I want that I can definitely, in no way have. But I waaaaant it. And it's hard. It hurts me, a little bit. A little twinge. The sadness spills over. So sad. I need to make a change.<br /><br />Want to move to the city. For real. Well. I've been saying that for a year. Longer.<br /><br />Maybe this is different. Because I really do need a REAL, tangible change. Sick of this daily grind. Need a change of scenery. Need to get off Long Island. Need to get away from myself. (Ah, but there is no running from oneself, not really!) Maybe just get some distance between this <em>thing</em> I want but can definitely not have. Forget about the thing. Distract myself with something shiny.<br /><br />I don't want to be here anymore. Don't want to work retail through the holiday season. A vision of me sitting, crumpled, on the sales floor, folding pajamas at 2a.m. and sobbing, is a little to clear in my head. But it's what I know. Which is why I've stayed so long. (Maybe. Who knows "why" anything, really. Our minds are a bunch of swirling questions, at least mine is.)<br /><br />Tired of driving all over Long Island, although I really do love driving - it relaxes me.<br /><br />I can't get through another winter here. I want to be in the city. I want a new start. I'm only 22. I deserve it. Right?Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16755829084527990966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663478039454148636.post-24255981696027594022011-10-24T21:07:00.001-07:002011-10-24T21:07:58.598-07:00a thoughtWriting articles is infinitely easier when you got all your questions answered already.Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16755829084527990966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663478039454148636.post-46375621021615163172011-10-23T19:00:00.000-07:002011-10-23T19:06:15.311-07:00chilled air.Maybe it's the weather. This cold feels firmer, like it's here to stay. As we soldier on towards winter, the leaves are flying off (fewer brilliant reds this year, I'm seeing mostly muted orange and yellows). The cold feels thick. I see my breath. Maybe that's why this most recent dark mood. A lot of people are having bad days. A lot of people seem to be in "funks" or "spells", whatever name we give that hard-to-describe "off" feeling.<br /><br />Sure, fall and winter have the cute clothes. The mittens and animal hats, the boots and new colorful (or classic) coats. But the cold, <em>cold</em> air? Static cling, dry skin, sun that glares off the icy snow and hurts our eyes. Sigh. Winter's on its way.<br /><br />The last week has been interesting.<br /><br />It's <em>interesting</em> how very fast time flies. And I'm only 22.<br /><br />Boys come and go, literally walk in and out of life. Career tracks hiccup and entirely falter. Friends lose touch. Family is a relative term. Economy and government, those big, soulless words that are always on peoples' TV sets and minds, but never quite tangible in daily life (at least not mine, I suppose I am lucky).<br /><br />And the seasons change, and Father Time marches on.Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16755829084527990966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663478039454148636.post-61174028015634055692011-10-20T21:37:00.000-07:002011-10-20T21:40:28.836-07:00todayToday was an interesting day that I can't quite put into words, and am not sure I want to put into a public forum.<br /><br />The last few days were tiring, and I learned something - how lucky I am. Lucky, because I have friends of all ages whom I can turn to when my family is absent, physically or emotionally. And when you're falling apart, you need family. So, I'm lucky I have a sister-from-another-mister who <em>got</em> what I was saying, and listened to me sob, and got mad with me, and said all the right things.<br /><br />I am so lucky. So blessed.Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16755829084527990966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663478039454148636.post-14791140212405751012011-10-13T19:27:00.000-07:002011-10-13T19:30:24.483-07:00done.That was a whole lot of work for just two stories. And though they're done and e-mailed to the editor, all it takes is an e-mail back or a phone call to have me scramming again. <em>Wait, what, those photos were shit? You want a quote from who? Confirm that source's title? </em><br /><br />Well, the photo demand may happen. But all in all, I know my stories were good. I had good sources, I had good quotes, I <em>think</em> I strung it together to make sense. That's hot.<br /><br />It was fun. Could I make it my living? Still unknown. But it sure is satisfying to watch the words string together on the page, and to like the story you're telling.Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16755829084527990966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663478039454148636.post-85608056254010413042011-10-12T19:58:00.000-07:002011-10-12T20:00:27.557-07:00being nosyBeing a journalist can be fun. The phone calls, the questions, scribbling everything down with a pen, later decoding your chicken-scratch into legible notes-n-quotes. Thinking while your source is talking, <em>what to ask next, oh shit, that was a good quote, what did they say?!?!</em><br /><br />And it can be fun to be nosy.<br /><br />Sometimes.Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16755829084527990966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663478039454148636.post-5181882529091611482011-10-11T19:10:00.000-07:002011-10-11T19:26:36.406-07:00cellsWeird, the stuff your brain remembers. Forgotten for ages, and then the wind blows, a fragment of dust loosens, a brain cell bumps into another cell and a memory pops in.<br /><br />Last night I was watching <em>Whose Line</em> <em>Is It Anyway?</em> Just for five minutes before flipping it off and going to bed. But I remembered an entire limmerick they sang in a different episode. I don't even know the last time I watched that show -- <em>years</em>. But somewhere, my brain retained it.<br /><br />And the other day, I was thinking about the silverware at my house. No, really.<br /><br />It's not my house anymore. I left that house in a whirlwind flurry-of-fury. And I sometimes realize I can't go back. Not that I want to. I don't. But it's a light tug beneath your skin to realize - that old box of school shit? I can't throw it away. That bowl with the cartoon mouse? It's there. The spoons I've eaten soup and ice cream off of for ten years are there.<br /><br />(I forget that my dog is not. I always imagine that he is, though.)<br /><br />Oh, whatever. Tragedy. You can buy new spoons. Silverware is unimportant. It took me four months to even remember its existence. Just one of those small things.<br /><br />Like when you move to a new place, you remember the big things. The bathroom is different, the route you take to work, the neighborhood. But you don't remember that tree you always eyed on your drive home. You forget the house with the drawing in the window. You forget the rhythmic, predictable cycle of thoughts you always had on your familiar route.<br /><br />Until a cell bumps agaisnt another cell. And then you remember something small.Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16755829084527990966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663478039454148636.post-38639572085872531652011-10-10T20:52:00.001-07:002011-10-10T21:04:14.336-07:00yawn.I lied. It's the next night. A very long, long day at work. Busy busy. messy messy. Third night closing in a row.<br /><br />I went to do some extra-mile-reporting this morning, only I am so afraid to walk up to a stranger and introduce myself and ask some goddamn questions. Why? Why this anxiety? <em>Why?</em><br /><br />And if it's because maybe I don't really want to be a reporter, then, please -- so what. I need to do <em>something</em>. Why can't I just do.it.?<br /><br />I said this to my supervisor and she didn't understand. Can't imagine me being shy, she said. Can't understand why it'd be hard for me, it should be easy.<br /><br /><em>I don't know,</em> I shrugged, face down, because I DON'T know. I don't know why I can't. I have ideas. Overwhelming self-consciousness, shyness leftover from childhood, social anxiety, fear of being judged, of sounding stupid, of <em>looking dumb OH-THE-HORROR.</em> Who cares? It doesn't matter. People aren't thinking about you, judging you, and if they are, it really doesn't matter what they think.<br /><br />I know all this. And it's still hard.Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16755829084527990966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663478039454148636.post-16884774406575122092011-10-09T08:22:00.000-07:002011-10-09T08:23:47.442-07:00whoops.Whoops. Forgot for a few days. But that's because I've been busy being a freelance reporter. How exciting. Phone calls and quesitons and note-takin' and typin'. And photo-takin' 'n' deadlines 'n' stuff.<br /><br />Off to my menial job now. Will write somethin' tonight.Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16755829084527990966noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7663478039454148636.post-47403216649305096802011-10-05T21:06:00.001-07:002011-10-05T21:15:00.852-07:00boys.Yesterday: Day off. What did I do? No, really..........OH! Lunch with a friend, library for a few hours, picked up winter clothes from Mom, went to Board of Ed. meeting.<br /><br />Today: Drove friend to work at 12. Went to work at 2 to closing. So boring. Whoop-ee.<br /><br />I cover board of education meetings every other work as a freelancer. I've done three.<br /><br />It's funny the difference two weeks can make. It's a perfect amount of time, really, to tell if you like someone, or you've settled into your home, or if you're happy at work, what friendships have changed, what's new, what's disapepared.<br /><br />(Wrote this on receipt paper at work. I do that a lot.)<br /><br />My Life by BOE meetings --<br /><br />1st one, 9/6 --<br />He had come over to Mom's apartment. We went for a walk. Some chit-chat, a few kisses. Oddly, a few tears, which he oh-so-gently swept from my face. So sweet. We walk back and he comes inside, just for a minute. We hug goodbye and as we both drive away, he honks and waves.<br /><br />me: OMG LI drivers!!!<br />him: i know right?<br /><br />9/20 --<br />He called but I couldn't answer. I call back on my way to the meeting. It's an alright conversation, but the fact I haven't seen him in a week is not lost on me.<br /><br />10/4 --<br />Deleted his #, deleted the texts a few days ago. Went on a not-a-date last night with someone else. He paid for my ticket and kissed me good-night. It was not a date. I don't have that fluttery feeling, but maybe I could like him.<br /><br /><br /><br />So what if the butterflies/goosebumps/unicorns-shitting-rainbows aren't there yet? They can form, right? And here's a guy who <em>might</em> like me. And I'm so fucking used to being alone that I worry I always will be. It's not just a habit, it's an ingrained trait. I don't want it to be. (Still, don't force something with someone who isn't right.) But just enjoy the company? For a little while? Forget about the other guy. It's stupid.<br /><br />(So many brain cells about boys. So. Many. Cells.)Caitlinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16755829084527990966noreply@blogger.com0