A Farewell Letter Of Sorts...

And now this is goodbye. 

With every word I type, I can't help but think how simply cliche this is. We've known each other for almost a year now, and yet, it's already time to say goodbye. We must move our separate ways. You will mature and so will I. We will reminisce about the good times we shared. But for now, we must prepare our farewells. 

We had a good run. You and I. 

Sorority dinners and dances. Concerts every other week. Movies on the lawn. Road trips to Nashville. Debates about music and film. Late night fireside chats. Time spent in the city. Social media escapades. And so much more. 

We spent everyday together. You walked me to class, you held my hand as I applied for my last semester of college. We bonded over our love for music. You helped me land those internships. You even helped keep me sane during those days where it felt like EVERYONE was engaged. (This is still a problem for me). 

You get me. Really, you do. When I needed that Thought Catalog article, you had me covered. When I was waiting for that cute boy to talk to me, you were there. With a little push in the right direction and a splendid shade of lip stain, you always had my back. 

From party dresses, to leather coats, to pink bandanas: you were there. With that wink in my direction -- letting me know that things were about to get better. With a lyric that helped me get through the day. Helping me clean the dust off my vinyl collection.  Maintaining patience when I insist upon being completely sarcastic. I applaud you and your perseverance to be with me through the good and the bad. 

Thank you. Without your support and guidance along the way, I wouldn't be here writing this letter to you. 

You know who you are. You were there for me wherever I needed you. You didn't ditch me on those Friday nights. And you were pleased to watch (500) Days of Summer with me for the 600th time. Because, I mean, seriously. It's the best soundtrack. 

Better yet, you were there for so many of my friends and family. Yes, lives were celebrated. And love was lost. But that's life. You were there, and that's all that matters. 

I know you and I made a great team. But I must move on. I've got another one of you to move on to. Hopefully they'll get me as much as you did. 

Here's to you, my friend. It's been one heck of a year, 2013. As Fall Out Boy would say, Thnks Fr Th Mmrs. 

It's been great getting to know you 2013, growing another year older with you. Attempting to drive. Yea, hopefully 2014 will treat me even better. 

Cheers to an even more rad year, 2014. Catch you on the flip side, 2013. 

Live it, love it, caress it.

-Coco

Getting To Know Someone...

I think my problem lies in the fact that I try to break the surface too fast. Sometimes I want to fast forward through the small talk, and really get to know someone. Their goals, their families, their fears, what makes them passionate, etc. and maybe that's too scary to people. 

I, myself am someone who is terrible at nocking down these walls that I have so perfectly built over the years. 

If I think you're cool... Game over. 

I will ask you how your life is, what inspires you, what music best describes your personal soundtrack, etc. if you're cool, I will insist that we hang out and get to know one another. I will sprout out ideas as if I am the Facebook event invites that you receive everyday. I will talk a lot. But I will listen even more. For I want to know you. Like really know you. I want to know what you were like as a child, who your best friends are and why you have that scar below your lip. 

This may be intimidating. This may be pushy, or involve too much prying, but I think it needs to be done. I don't want to have conversation that ends up with us repeating the same monotonous details about ourselves that everyone knows. I want to know interesting stories, quirks that you have and how you came to get a certain nickname. 

Is that weird? 

Maybe I feel as though if someone shares some information with me, they will ask me in return. Making conversation, but digging deeper than the surface. I like having those types of chats where I can see your eyes spark with interest as you discuss in detail the ideas that drive you to success. I want you to realize that I don't get to talk about myself often, and when I do, my eyes start to water-- for I do not get serious very often. But I'm giving you this opportunity, as a two way street to delve into my life as we explore yours as well. 

But I can see how that is terrifying. And I can see why you would not want to partake in this. 

But I want this. I want to not just scratch the surface, I want to learn about you. Work to understand you. I want to "get you".


As always,

live it. love it. caress it.

Music Is My Religion

It just takes that one song from that one band to send chills down your spine. You can be surrounded by complete strangers, but for that moment on that night, you all are friends. Friends with the love of this same moment that you all are sharing. You all thrust your fist in the air, dancing along to the beat of the drum and who the hell cares who's watching? Friends and fans unite in a sea of sweat and denim. The house is black, the stage is lit, and you are there. With that special someone. With your best friend. With your family. With no one. But even then, you feel at home. In a sea of strangers, you have never felt more comfortable than the moment when the band takes the stage for the first time, the sea of cellphones light up the audience, and you know that it's going to be a good night. 

Why can't life always be like this? Where we all can bond over this unique moment. Where we can share in laughter and music and be completely present in the show. This state and time holds a place in your calendar. You have the ticket stub, you have your beverage, and you feel the vibes. It's now when you can let go, cleanse your soul of the worries of hours past, this is your time. Relax, rejoice and soak in the moments you have. 

If I've learned one thing from the number of shows that I've seen -- it's that it never gets old. I anticipate the set lists, I study the room, I pick out my future husband, and I think about nothing at all. The choice is yours. This is your moment, spend it wisely-- carelessly or poetically. 

The goosebumps begin, and I can feel my eyes starting to water. As to make sure no one sees my emotional state for music, I make sure to blink a lot to rid my eyes of puddles. This is what I needed -- this is my church. This is where I go to rejoice. Music is my religion.  The cure of any bad day. The symphony to my soul.



Live it, love it, caress it.
-Coco Chanell 

A Tale of Autopilot Daydreams

Here's the thing about relationships -- much like physics, politics and sports -- I don't understand them.  Yes, I cannot learn from experience… well, because I'm lacking in that department.  The department of love and relationships.  Maybe not so much in love, for I know that love exists, and I know that I am too naive to feel this way just yet.  I love my family, I love my friends, collectively.  I am not close enough to most of them to actually love them, if that makes any sense.  I cherish the word "love."  It means too much to me to be thrown around in everyday language.  I adore TONS of things and people.  I love music, I share a connection with it, it warms my soul, the lyrics transcend into medicine when I'm sad, and continually helps to provide the soundtrack to my life.  

I do fantasize about a prince charming who will whisk me away on his lawn mower, playing some sort of super-perfect song, thrusting his fist in the air, and then we'll skip through tall fields of grass, laying under a blanket of stars and confessing our deepest secrets.  It's a compilation of some of my most vivid dreams and scenes from various rom coms.  I can see all of these pieces of the puzzle falling into place, yet I have yet to figure out who my dream man will be.  And I've learned to be very patient.  I hold out hope that I'll see him on the street, brush into him at a concert, watch him walk into one of my favorite coffee shops, or perhaps he'll be at flipping through old blazers at the local Goodwill. It's untelling.  My dreams tell me that this guy is in my life already, and we share a connection that cannot be undone.  

And I know, I've wrote about this countless times before.  But seriously, I'm constantly learning about life, love and all those other lessons that life hands us along the way.

In recent events, I've been submerged into an immensely chill vibe.  Like, completely chill.  Almost to the point where I cannot concentrate on the various events happening around me.  I am longing for breaks in my day where I can casually write as I please, and warm my soul with music and chai tea.  I know I'm growing up, and maybe that has brought on this sudden change of mood.  I also know am aware that I am not depressed by any means.  Yet, when I try to describe this feeling of "autopilot," I sound dramatic and somewhat delusional.  That's not how it is.  Not at all. Let me try to put it into words...

As the day dwells on, I can feel the moments passing me by.  Slowly and reluctantly, I see images speed past me, people moving and living their everyday lives; while I sit (feeling as though I am) frozen in time.   This is not my declaration of depression.  I don’t think that’s my issue.  I think it’s a touch of senioritis, homesick-ness, allergies and a dash of the love bug.  I can feel my prioritizing getting tossed to the way-side.  Projects that should take me a mere hour or two drag on for days.  I can’t concentrate, sleep sounds splendid throughout the day, and then once I get home, I lack the desire to shut my lids.  Welcome to college?

I have been set to autopilot – simply drifting by, not actually living in the moments -- something I pride myself in.  I’m all about the moments!  Yet, here I sit, when I should be working, I blog.  All I want to do is curl up under my warm blankets, stare at the ceiling fan, drink warm tea, get lost in a trance of superb tunes, and write.  Ideally, I’d like to pause life around me – take a small break for myself, and scratch off some of the items on my to-do list.  But no, I do not have time for that.  I barely have time to eat lunch.  This is sad.  But this is life.

I envy the students who have ample amounts of time to spend watching Netflix, or who can take a stroll through the park.  Even during my times of unscheduled activities, a meeting pops up, an assignment has to get done, and it’s on to the next task.  I need some motivation.  I find myself daydreaming all too often. Doodling during class, planning for days down the road.  With songs constantly playing in my mind, I hum tunes to songs I've never heard of.  Images of past events drift into my imagination.  I’ve got it bad – Usher was right. 

And now, now that I am on a break from classes, I have been able to enjoy some of my hobbies that I used to revel in -- reading, writing, taking photos, painting, and simply soaking up the moments of being around my family.  Too often I toss these simple pleasure to the wayside, trying to make way for things that I've tried to make more important.  But that's not fair.  I must stop and smell the flowers, soak in the moments and embrace life.  And all those other cliches. 

As my "lasts" of college begin, I can feel myself separating myself from college, lunging forward into "real world" or "adult life."  I am in an awkward limbo of embracing and living in the moments of college, all while preparing myself for graduation and a career.  This is life, and this is where I am.  There's nothing wrong with this balance, it's just a little more than what I'm used to.  I'm taking on the ideas of life, moving, boys, various internships, work, school, and my involvement on and off campus.  The daydreaming swells all the while.  Longing to be apart of a "we," and not making time to appreciate the "me" that I currently am.  

And this is my life.  An infatuated, workaholic with a lot on her mind.  Balancing life, friends, school, work, and still managing to dab on a little lip color before heading out the door each morning.  As November nears, I miss my grandma more and more.  She'd understand my dilemmas and provide me with years of knowledge.  So here it is -- my thoughts compiled into one entry.  Somewhat random and all over the place, but hopefully helpful in the declaration of my over-thinking, constantly creative, yet chill vibe.  I've had a lot to think about recently, and this, as they say, is What's In Coco's Hair?. 

Peace,

Chanell 

What is something you've always wanted to do?

Some days are blessings, while others are filled with struggles. But each day I am thankful to be alive.  I cannot complain about the events leading to this point in my life... The chapters to my novel are not complete, and I have yet to reach the cliffhanger. 

And I'm okay with that. 

For each day is a new day, and I am up for the challenge (most days).

A few weeks ago, at work, we were encouraged to get to know the staff a little more by answering a question on a poster each day. The questions were "Why do you love music?" and "what is something you've always wanted to do?" without hesitation, I made my way to transcribe my answers.  Blank spaces were sparse on the music poster, while the something we've always wanted to do was very bare. 

When I read the question, I knew exactly what I've always wanted... Not a pony, or a mansion.  Not even a goose that lays golden eggs.  

I've always wanted to fall in love -- Maybe not like in the fairy tales, and maybe not like some cliche romance novel -- but I cannot wait for the day when I fall in love. 

Seeing as I'm 21 and single, this didn't seem strange to me. But as my 30's, 40's, 50's and even older coworkers glanced at the board, some were struck with awe, pity and amusement by my response. While no one knew that was my answer, I watched as the reactions came spilling in. They were feeling amusement by my lack of love, but also sadness that I had never fallen in love.  Is that not natural? 

I was confused. 

I have loved the ideas of many a things throughout my life... I have enjoyed moments, and I love my family. But I have never truly fallen in love. 

Maybe I should feel pity for myself, trust me, sometimes I do. But whatever the case may be... I want to fall in love.  With all my heart, butterflies-causing-chaos-in-my-stomach-kind-of-love.  

...

Although it may not happen tonight or tomorrow, maybe not next week or even a year from now... I look forward to the day that it happens.  It may be unexpected and unplanned, and I'm quite alright with that.  For as long as I can remember, I have longed for the day to come.  It will be a celebrated time in my life, and I cannot wait. Yes, I joke about the idea of seeing my future boyfriend walking through the door at Coffee Emporium, but maybe one day it will happen.  And maybe it will make all the difference. 

As they say, "love is a many splendid thing." 

Head Full Of Doubt, Road Full Of Promise

As I journey my way through life, in my everyday encounters, I can feel myself creating an E! True Hollywood Story in my mind. From the shade of lipstain I decide to wear, to the people I meet, the hands I shake, and the soundtrack to the moments.  I can feel myself internally recording each moment so as to not forget it in the future.  The faces are engraved in my mind, the dreams are slowly becoming a reality, and it's time to be an adult.


I subliminally take note of the moment that I meet people, so as to store it away in a rolodex for later retrieval.  As I go to shake their hand, or hug their familiar being, I think of the possible futures we will have.  For this may be the only time we meet, it could be my next best friend, a future employer, or perhaps, just maybe, my future boyfriend or husband.  That's the cool and crazy thing about life -- we can't predict it.  Even now, as The Morning Benders' soothing vibes fill the speakers of my Mac, I cannot tell you how I will feel about this song in the future.  I cannot tell you if I will meet someone who is completely taken over by these melodies the way that I am.  The coin has been tossed, it's in the air, and who knows what side it will land on.  And that's okay.


Every so often I try to take control of these unknowns -- creating lists, handcrafting scenarios of right and wrong -- yet, I still find no answers.  I tense up, my mind swims with the endless possibilities, and I may even cry a bit.  I run to the kitchen to tell my mother of my stresses, she listens, she calms me down, and reminds me that it's okay not to know everything.  It's okay to be unsure, and to jump into a situation with your whole heart, and feel overwhelmed.   That's the beauty of the unknown  that's the beauty of life's moments.  After the calm of the worries, I dry my tears, journal a little, and then become inspired to work harder toward my goals.  That's all I can do.  For there is no magic eight ball to guide me along this path, there is no "pass go- collect 200 dollars."  This isn't the game of life, you do not roll the dice to receive your career and earnings.  Life is not that simple, it's much more fun.


So, in an instant when you're feeling lost or lonely, or just unsure of what's happening around you... stop, reflect, and breathe.  The key is to allow time to reflect.  Reflect on your day, your choices, your life, and those around you.  We will never be able to have all the answers, no one does. And you know what, that's the beauty of life -- so go out and live it! In the great words of The Avett Brothers, "Decide what to be and go be it."

First Encounter

He caught her stare far too long ago. It seems like years or decades, but it has only been a few short months.  He was gussied up in a suit and tie in the line of the local coffee shop.  The gentleman had a gaggle of girls within arms reach, yet he looked uninterested.  Writing material in hand, she wasn’t sure if he were real.  For she had only seen characters like him on the silver screen, or in drawn-up scenarios in her dreams.  Yes, he was a dream.  He had to be. 

She had to talk to him. This boy. This man. This guy whom had appeared out of no where.  She had frequented that shop so many times prior and had never seen his face.  Was he new to town?  Was he here on business? Or was he in fact a dream -- a figment of her overly-analyzing imagination. 

Yes, he was tall, mysterious, yet so full of life; with vibrant eyes and a charming smile.  With books in hand, she knew he was about to set in on a literary journey, conquer the world, or casually write the next Shakespearean play.  Who knows.  He was a man of adventure and lust as she could see it.  With his hair slicked back, grey pieces mixed to create a suit.  This man was polished.  He was poised.  He was dare we say it... perfect.   

She, an innocent girl standing in line to order a chai tea (most likely), and him, a handsome boy dressed to the nines.  She stood there in shock and utter embarrassment.  She could feel her mouth gaping and her heart stopping.  He had caught her stare.  Not for a moment, but for what felt like an eternity.  He was just the kind of person she’d been praying to stumble upon in one of these romantic-comedy-like scenarios.  And here it was, happening right then and there.

To her. Of all people. 

She doubted the encounter meant anything to him.  But she also knew this was her chance.  She was sure he got that all the time, but she had to talk to him. This guy. 

So, as he finished his order, she tapped his shoulder. 

...There it was, the first touch... 

He turned to look at her.  Time stood still.

She complemented his style... how she was able to utter words is still amazing.  He, in turn, complemented her outfit. Telling her he appreciated anyone who didn’t dress like everyone else.  

She was smitten.  

He had noticed her. 

They exchanged names.  And that was that.  

He was impossibly charming and she was taken back.  Never had she met someone who intimidated, yet mystified her in such a manner as he.  She had only hoped their paths would cross again. 

...

Months went by.  She hadn’t seen him for quite some time. She was sure he had moved.  He'd probably met the exotic love of his life and was sailing around the world at that very moment.  She could tell he had history about him.  He had some stories to tell, and she wanted to hear all of them.  She wanted to listen to old vinyl with him, drink coffee and discuss the dilemmas of the world.  She wanted to spend time with him and just sit in silence.  Taking on the world with one 80s film after another.  But that would never happen. 

Not for her. 

Months passed, and she kept that moment of their first encounter in her mind. She longed for a day when he’d want to sit down with her and talk. About everything and nothing. One of those kind of moments.  They'd drink tea in a crowded coffee shop and exchange stories of their travels and dreams.  

Until their paths cross again, she’ll hold onto that memory of the moment that he caught her stare in that coffee shop on that warm, summer day. 

Coffee Shop Ramblings...

(This was just a little something I'd written a few months ago, and just found in my notes. Enjoy )

Feverishly typing away at an assignment due in the next class, one girl sits in a coffee shop on campus. Amongst the chaos and confusion of the everyday life of a college student, she takes this time to reflect. With books opened, word documents pulled up, she occasionally looks up to familiarize herself with her surroundings. One glance, every few minutes, nothing too major. A quick hello, a wave to a familiar face, and she goes on. More frantic typing, more glancing, she sips her water. As the lyrics and melodies of music fill her eardrums, she looks up. Not to see a blur of people, but to see a boy. A boy whom she knows. A boy whom she admires. This boy, he coyly walks to his seat, not even noticing her. He sits down, ready to take on his world with his MacBook and book bag. Her heart jumps. She can't focus, for he is in her path of sight. His hair perfectly quaffed, with oils and gels. His appearance perfectly vintage, and polished, just the way she likes it.

A girl, types away frantically about a boy. The boy frantically types away about the unknown. Their glances may catch, or they may go on like this for hours. No matter the outcome, her day has been made by the presence of him in the coffee shop amidst the chaos. 

We Accept The Love We Think We Deserve

Warning, I am about to be a girl and blog about my feelings while contemplating the actions of men.  Needless to say, you've been warned.

I may as well get this rant out of my system.
I think I'm cursed.

I know that I have developed this over analyzed, beautifully built-up image of what romance, friendships and people can be like -- I blame countless hours of reading John Green novels, or my admiration for John Hughes films.  Whatever the case may be... I'm missing something.  Most guys that I am friends with, it's cool... we're totally chill, we have similar interests; ie: music, movies, books, coffee, etc.  These guys usually end up being gay, or they end up never talking to me again.  I've said it once, I'll say it again... I'm cursed.

Let's take a little trip down memory lane.  On several occasions, I have come in contact with these normal, casual guys.  We're friends, it's totally chill.  I think they're cool, they have good taste in music, and their thoughts seem educated and meaningful.  Then all of a sudden, the texting stops.  The Facebook chats stop.  The random tweets stop (if they ever started).  And there's barely any social interaction at all. What gives?

I'd like to think of myself as a pretty "normal" gal.  Considering the philosophical question, of what really is normal?  I was on homecoming court. I went to prom.  I am 20 years old.  I'm in college.  Involved in a sorority.  I have plenty of friends.  I work with a local magazine and go to tons of events.  I love music.  I can take some mean photos, and I love social media.  I'd like to think I'm normal.  While I consider myself normal, I also am very unique.  I don't drink, or smoke, and am not promiscuous.   I like to read and write a lot.  I go to more concerts than I should.  And half of my wardrobe is from thrift stores, my grandma, or Goodwill.  I often times contemplate the meaning of life, and over analyze situations.  Sue me.  I wear glasses with no lenses, and have really big, long, wavy hair.  I laugh too loud, but it's always sincere.  I am passionate.  I'm genuine.  I have values, and I stick to them.  Does that make me different?  Is that scary?  Is it some sort of disease?

I have this theory that there's no way you can expect someone to love and understand you, if you can't love and understand yourself first.

It's taken me a while to really delve into this concept myself.  I'm not saying I'm the dating guru   I've actually never been on a date or had my first kiss, much less had an actual boyfriend.  Shocking?  I've been boy crazy for as long as I can remember... I remember chasing around the cutest boy in our kindergarten class on the playground.  We'd play house, and he'd always be my husband. SCORE.  As time went on, and boys caught up to my height, and then soon passed me up -- I often used the excuse that I was too busy for boys.  (keep in mind I'm inching near six foot, and boys didn't hit their growth spirt until middle school).  I was involved in basically every extracurricular and had a list of service hours a mile long.  I didn't have time for petty relationships.  As my gal pals would swoon over a new guy every few weeks in a vicious cycle, I would just sit by on the sidelines and watch.  My friends would often date these guys, causing me to be a third wheel when we'd hang out.  I'd get suckered into talking to the guys, kind of as a "wing girl."  --Maybe I watch too much How I Met Your Mother.  That's besides the point--  As my friends dated other guys, I'd end up being friends with the boys.  They were cool, and the girls would get too caught up in trying to be in a relationship.  With the labels and the love.  They were focused too much on the idea of the romance, instead of actually experiencing it.  They'd be head over heels in love with a guy, then they'd be on to the next one.  I don't know if this is true at other high schools, but I always felt like everyone just recycled gf's and bf's at our school.  Now, even in college it's rough.  There's just so many people roaming the campus.  We're all operating on different schedules and sleep patterns.  Some of us stay on campus all day, while others have jobs to work, or families to take care of.  With the use of social media, like facebook -- there really is no time to actually get to know someone.  

I resent the simpler times, the era before internet.  A time when we weren't consumed with social media, iPhones and YouTube.  A time when you actually had to pick up the phone to see what your friend in another city was doing.  Or better yet, when people wrote letters or sent postcards.  Maybe that explains my admiration of postcards.  There's something so simple and personal about a postcard.  Yet, today, all we have to do is snap a photo and send it through the inter-webs.   What happened to the times when people went out on dates?  Two people were brought together over a cup of coffee -- not to instagram it -- but to actually enjoy the company of another human being.  Things seemed so much more romantic a few decades ago.  People actually had to communicate. In person. Weird!  There was a time where two people had to have a conversation in order to find out their likes and interests.  As we enter 2013, there is no need for a conversation.  You can Google someone, and in about 10 seconds find out what they looks like, what they're listening to, and get a street view of their home.  Creepy.

Don't get me wrong, I LOVE social media. It's my life.  I mean, I am going into public relations.  But I do appreciate a good conversation.  A moment.  For a short period of time -- people conversating, paying attention and really feeling.  Sitting in a room, surrounded by life, and still taking the time to really understand someone.

...Back to this curse that has been placed upon me.  I have this ability to make really great guy friends, and even if it was never going to develop into anything, they just fall off the face of the earth.  No contact.  After weeks or even months of communication -- something happens.  Who knows.  I'm not complaining about the turn of events, but I've noticed the theme.  We meet, we bond, we talk, it ends.

I warned you earlier that this was going to be girly.  I'm sorry.

I've had 20 years of getting to know and love myself.  I haven't had to depend on anyone else, I haven't been forced to chose between a hunky boyfriend and the location of my school.  I've had me, myself and I this whole time.  Although it gets lonely sometimes, it's empowering.  I can enjoy life with various amounts of people, and still come home, curl up on the couch and read a book.  I can go out with friends, meet new people, and live an exciting life.  I'm young and intelligent.  (I'm not bragging, I don't really like to talk myself up, trust me)  To know that there are still women out there like myself who care about others, live life and still are able to stay true to themselves.  It's refreshing.  So often, the media and the everyday occurrences of the 21st century leads people to believe they should act like something their not. Ahem, Catfish, anyone?  I don't care what the critics say, I like who I am.  Someday someone else will too.

And so goes the title of the blog.  One of my favorite novels as a high school teenager was The Perks of Being a Wallflower, and now, as it has been reincarnated into a film -- I still favor it.  The movie is so moving, and relatable   I balled my eyes out in appreciation. Every time.  "We accept the love we think we deserve."  It's so simple, yet so complex.  If we think we're not good enough, we will settle for a love that is not good enough.  If you live your life in the highest manner, then you will receive love in the highest manner.

Be you.  Love yourself.  And don't depend on anyone else to make you who you are.

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing... so, go live the adventure in love, loss and life.