1.6.16

I’m unmotivated and ambitious as hell, all at once, and I’m still trying to figure out how that can be. 

You hear those cliches about moments being the time of your life. How you’ve had your golden years, and everything from here on out is life and it sucks and blah blah blah. I didn’t believe it. I still don’t. But I’m beginning to kind of understand what these people were referring to. 

I find myself each and everyday waking up with the thirst to do something more, but the lack of motivation, or maybe it’s a lack of knowledge on where to start. I know that big things are expected from me. It started at a young age, people creating these expectations for me. I too expect greatness from myself. But the problem lies within the idea of what I should do and how I should do it. 

Too often I hear from my peers about their lack of happiness or satisfaction with their lives. I don’t want to be that person. I don’t want to join the club. I have too much to offer.  I enjoy my unconventional life, here on the island of misfit toys. 

I know I’ve ranted about this in a previous post, and IRL, but social media is a blessing and a curse. It’s a great platform to stay connected with friends thousands of miles away, or checking in on your favorite celeb, but sometimes it’s the worst at crushing your self-esteem. 

I’ve never been one to compare myself to others, but damn, does social media posts from friends sometime make you feel like you’re doing absolutely nothing with your life? I get it, social media makes everyone’s life look a little more glamorous. Filters and apps help with that. I’m guilty, we all are. 

I just don’t get how I got here. I was always so involved. Charismatic. Acting, singing, volunteering, dancing, academics, social life, philanthropic, leader, community involvement, campus involvement, etc. I made the grades, I had the connections, the ambition, the unique qualities. I thought I was destined for something other than a conglomeration of freelance work, and an abundance of hours watching Netflix under my belt. I’m not complaining. That’d be too millennial of me. Barf. I’m just a little disappointed in myself sometimes. I should have tried harder, not been so picky, taken more chances. The same could be said about my dating life. But in all seriousness, what happened? Am I the only one who feels this way? Let me answer that for you, I know I’m not. 

We’re all at different stages in our lives. And that’s okay. I embraced it a loooong time ago, but sometimes I just feel so shitty about how my life is shaping up. Don’t get me wrong, I have a great family who loves me, I have cool friends who are supportive and chill. I have jobs here and there and get to work with cool people, and in a rad city. I really cannot complain. But sometimes I explore what I think would be my dream job, and I feel so complacent. Should I give all this up? Should I try to make it big? Should I try to work at some big record label? Move to NYC or LA? I think about it sometimes. Don’t we all?

There comes a point when you have to look at what you have and what you want and settle the difference. Picture yourself in that dream job or that foreign city or with that beautiful stranger. Is it really you? Do you really want it? Or are you just giving into the pressure of society and the expectations placed on you from your peers? Is it just the idea that you enjoy, not the reality?

Honestly, I saw this quote a few months back “you were not born to pay bills and die,” and it really stuck with me. We’re here, on this planet, to live and love and that’s it. Live int he moments with the people you care about, love yourself, and all of the rest will fall into place… when that is, I don’t know, but I’ll let you know when I find out. 

Tater tots & unsettling thoughts.

It happened again. That unsettling feeling. There I was, minding my own business. Eating some tater tots. Listening to people groan about monotonous details. And it hit me. It does this. 

I was daydreaming of leaving. Or getting up from the table, leaving them behind and finding a new adventure. In this city. Somewhere new. Moving. Packing up. Saying "see ya later Cincy, I'm going on vacation." 

Then in that same moment, my mind switched. What am I doing here? Why do I hang out in these settings? Are we actually having fun? Am I living? I've been out of college for over a year now and have no "big girl job". Should I leave? Should I just live with my parents forever? That's what people used to do... Live with their families, not separating. Do I actually need to live on my own right now? I think people do that to mature and figure out who they are. What do you do when you're 23 and know who you are? But don't know what the next move is? 

I get so frustrated with myself. I know my mother does too. I get to overwhelmed and underwhelmed all at the same time. I know that I have the potential to do whatever the hell I want. I've had some experience, I've dabbled, but what's my next career move? What am I going to do? I don't care about making a ton of money. Ideally, I don't want some 9-5 desk job either. I'm too creative. Too restless. Too much of an idealist. Yes, that's what I am. An idealist. I have these thoughts and dreams and aspirations. But I have little motivation. I have little to work for or towards. I sound like such a millennial. Dang it. Who am I kidding? We're all trying to "live". But what is living? Is it just the simple act of breathing? Or is there some checklist that we're suppose to be completing? I admit that sometimes I hear about others' lives my age and think about what I'm doing. Or what I'm not doing. But I also know that I am my own person, and will not compare myself to others. 

This world is strange. So many contradictions and prearrangements. So many unspoken rules and ideals. 

I don't know what to do. I'm back at square one. Just like I was before college, trying to pick my major. (My dear friend Matt & I were just talking about this.) Well, now I have two degrees and not a lot to show for it. I don't discount my education. I don't discount my experiences. I've interned places and networked. But here I am. Working part-time. Freelancing here and there. And that's okay, I think? 

Am I a writer? A photographer? A publicist? A stylist? A social media strategist? A promoter? A saleswoman? A singer? 

I need guidance again. Or a sign. Or some sort of proper motivation. I need to get my mojo back. Everyone knows it. 

Maybe I need a change of scenery. But each time I leave Cincinnati, I come back loving her even more. It's a shame, really, how much I love her. 

Just as I wrote that, I pictured myself being a novelist. I pictured myself as Fitzgerald. Maybe that's what I should do. Write. 

For now, I sleep. 

Being Original Is Breathtaking.

I have this unsettling feeling. This sinking, kind of sick-at-my stomach feeling. It comes in waves, this feeling. 

I know that I am like no one else. My name, my hair, my laugh, my humor, my taste, it's all me. It's all unique. And I love that. But it's also quite lonesome and sometimes overwhelming.

I fear things. I fear that people aren't like me. That I am alone. And this becomes more evident with my track record of being 23 and never having been on a date, held hands, kissed, had a boyfriend, or any sort of intimacy with a man. 

I've came to the conclusion that I'm just so different. It's such a strange feeling. Knowing that my mind and my thought pattern is not like that of anyone I know. There are a select few who grasp my wit and sequence of thoughts, but there are those who look at me like I'm some sort of alien. And in a twisted way, I love that. I strive for that. I yearn for the chance to be different. To turn a head. Ya know?

Being original is breathtaking. It's refreshing. Being yourself.

There is a certain refreshing-ness about someone who is completely genuine. They are who they are, and have no reservations about what they like and what they don't. Trends aren't how they stay current. Popular culture plays little effect.

I came to the conclusion a long while ago that I honestly didn't care what others thought of me. Within reason. I am who I am. Labels do not define me. Society does not get the opportunity to make fun of me or tie me down. I have my own thoughts and feelings. My own emotions. My own likes and dislikes. 

As I become older, I can feel it more and more. This self love that I have. It envelopes me all the time. I am awesome. And I'm not conceited. I'm not cocky. Quite the opposite. I actually blush at any slight compliment or nice comment. I just laugh and smile. I'm terrible with it. Trust me. Try it. But with time, I have learned to love every ounce of myself. Inside and out. 

I am different, I am strange. I am unique, I am human. I am woman, hear me roar. Cliches and all. 

From my thick waist, to my long hair. My pouty bottom lip, my crooked teeth. My big feet, my loud mouth. My wide array of interests, my record collection. It's all what makes me who I am. And I am so thankful for it. 

I catch myself having two very different images of myself. One where I am some schmuck trying to get by in life, while looking and acting a complete fool. The other, a confident woman who knows who she is and what she wants. I chose to accept the latter. 

Life is difficult sometimes. Catching my reflection in a store window, seeing my larger frame. I've learned to embrace it. I've learned to understand each curve and wrinkle. I know that the mall is not my favorite place. I know that I'd rather pilfer through boxes of silk blouses at a yard sale, or flip through racks of high waisted skirts at the thrift stores. That's who I am. 

Love is difficult sometimes. I wind up in these vastly romantic scenarios when I'm by myself, or with a group of coupled off friends. It's awkward and lonely, but it's life. I've accepted it. I'm good at being single. I am able to go where I want and enjoy my life. My choices, my time, and I don't have to compromise. But sometimes I wish I had to compromise. Cooperate, rather. Having a romantic plus one would be nice. Being able to belt the lyrics to my favorite song at a show with a guy of my own would be rad. But hey, I do it on my own. And that's nice too. Being a realist and a hopeless romantic is quite the task. But I do it. And I own it. 

Work is difficult. So much pressure to be "successful," this subjective term. A world where degrees matter and money rules. And I'm just looking for happiness and enjoying the simple things in life. Whether that be listed on a career page, or right here in the comfort of my own home. Who knows. 

And that's what is so stellar. There doesn't need to be just black or white. (Like I said, cliches and all). I've learned that imperfections are abundant and common. Perfection is rare and kind of nonexistent. Quirks and jerks are all around us. Trust me. I choose to embrace this life. Love the skin that I'm in. Embark on each day as if it were a new journey, a time to celebrate and create. 

Who am I to judge another? I have always considered myself to be that of an open-minded person. To each their own. Sometimes there are more important things in life than to look to the world for validation. We're each given the opportunity to live and to love and to laugh. Do it. Press play, and embrace life for what it is. Revel in your one-of-a-kind-ness. For you are the only you in the entire planet. Dig that. I do. <3

How To Dress Confidently

I was once given an assignment to write on "How To Dress Yourself Thin." What really is "thin"? Is it a physical appearance, a state of mind, or some sort of measurement? Thin is subjective. Each person has their own opinion of what thin means. Don't dress to be thin, dress to be confident. 

I am no fashion expert, I wear what I like -- granted, I'm aware of the trends -- but I also am aware that a lot of trends may not fit my curves. Here are 10 tricks to keep in mind while trying to dress yourself confidently.

1. Wear what you like
   Don't worry about the latest trends, confidence is always in season. "Fashion fades, only style remains the same." -Coco Chanel
   
   
2. Don't compare yourself to othersThigh gaps and muffin tops: we're all human. One size does NOT fit all. Do not size up yourself to someone else, pun intended. Everyone has a flaw, everyone is beautiful in their own way.
   
   
3. Dress your body, not a mannequin's
   Humans aren't Barbie dolls, there are curves and imperfections involved, embrace them. Wear clothes that fit your body, your skin, your curves, your imperfections. Do not try to wear something because of a number. Don't let the size on the tag detour you from getting clothes that look great on you.
   
4. Know what colors and materials you like
   Not a fan of pink with your skin tone? Then don't wear it. Hues of colors help to make your facial features pop, or help draw attention to certain areas, be aware of that. Understand what materials fall well on your body, avoid materials that are too clingy and uncomfortable.
   
   
   
5. Collect staple items
   Signature pieces are a must. Denim and leather can go a long way. Every woman needs a great black dress for any occasion, but don't forget about a great pair of jeans. A good wardrobe contains an outfit suitable for a wedding, a funeral, a job interview, a casual day off, a night out-on-the-town ensemble, a great bathing suit, and a few other great pieces that will work for other various occasions . Incorporate signature items such as a great blazer with a fun top and a pair of staple jeans.
   
   
   
6. Take chances/express yourself
   Style is a form of expression, let your clothes express who you are and what you like. Don’t be afraid to take chances with your wardrobe. Remember that your clothes give off a first impression and help to convey who you are before you even speak.
   
    
   
7. Layers can be your best friend and your worst enemy
   Light layers are always favorable. But don't let your natural shape get too lost under copious amounts of fabric. Know your layering limits. It takes practice.
   
   
   
8. Accessorize accordingly
   Accessories are meant to compliment an outfit, do not let them distract from your beauty and your outfit. Less is often times more. There's a great motto about removing one accessory before leaving the house, just to make sure there's not too much going on with the look.
   
   
9. Highlight your assets
   What's your favorite feature about yourself? Highlight that. Understand that hemlines help to accentuate areas of the body. A great high-waisted garment can help draw attention to the waist, as do cinched waistlines and high-belted items. A great pencil skirt that hits you right above or below the knees will help to accentuate the thinnest part of your legs. If you're wanting to accentuate your breasts, choose a scoop-neck or v-neck cut, the eye will be drawn to your breasts, also helping to draw the eye to your waistline, giving the illusion of an hourglass figure.
   
   
10. Smile
    Reality television and fashion magazines tell us to be thin. But haven't you heard? You're a babe no matter what shape or size. When you feel good, you'll look even better and exude a charisma that people will swoon over. Try it! Don't squeeze into clothes that don't fit. It's tiresome and uncomfortable. Save the pain for the great shoes you'll be rocking.
    
    

It took me years to figure all of this out. I've always had my own unique style, pulling pieces from my grandma's closet and pairing them with my own modern pieces to create an interesting combination. (Yes, I had an Avril phase, you know, the whole men's tie phase? Yep, I did that. Man, middle school).  I remember the days of trying to look as cute as my "thin" friends, in their Soffe shorts.  I used to peruse the mall for hip clothes that would fit my body. Then, alas, I realized that my tall, curvy frame wasn't easy to shop for off the mannequins. That's when I stopped obsessing over trends.

Pay attention to what you like and what looks good on you, then the rest will fall into place! Style is what you make it. Embrace it. 

Unpublished: Dreamland

In the stillness of it all, I wonder. 

In the blackness of it all, I ponder. 

Enveloped in the quiet. 

Lights of cars creeping in. 

I lay here. 

Paralyzed. 

Restless.

Weary.

Relaxed. 

Eyes become heavy. Lids close. The music continues to play. Lyrics dancing in my mind. To do lists being written. It's hard to turn it off. The mind continues to wonder, to ponder. 

When the shapes begin to shift behind our lids, we slip away. Even for a moment. To a place much more simple than this. Or be it much more intricate than this. It's different, and that's what matters. 

Filled with endless possibilities, familiar faces and shadows of the unknown, we dream. We believe. We feel. We see. We think. We know. 

Those moments are pure. They're our sub-conscience coming to life. Our hopes, our aspirations. Or emotions, our memories. Stored away, ready to come out and play. 

Revel in them. Enjoy them. Hold on to them. For these moments are fleeting. For these moments are scarce. 

Drift away. Steal away. Allow yourself the simplicity of sleeping. Fall into your sub-conscience. Sweet dreams.  

Unpublished: What We Were

I was your window. Your tiny window. The time spent between her. The adventure out into the real world. Your escape. Look through my glass.

I was your confidant. Your listening ear. Your fortune teller. Your ego boost. Your shoulder. Your journal. Write on my pages. 

I was your speakers. Crescendo-ing and decrescendo-ing. Your noise. Your muse. Your soothing sounds. Your accompaniment. Let me sing. 

Unpublished: Less Than A Month

It lasted less than a month, you and I. Whatever we were. In an attempt to rid myself of feelings for another, I went searching. But I wasn't searching for you. You were like the prize in the cereal box of my childhood memories. There, a surprise, something that I had been made aware of, but was hesitant to get my hopes up.

It happened in mere hours, this new relationship. Platonic or romantic, that was left to be discovered. We chatted for hours. Life, hobbies, music, etc. The time seemed to fly by. Daily exchanges of good night and good morning texts.

It happened once, us meeting. I remember that it wasn't weird. Two strangers talking for hours, exchanging inside jokes as if we'd been friends forever. You swirled your water as if it were wine. Had I made you nervous? Swapping stories of families and embarrassing moments, the time came to part ways.

It happened in a span of a few weeks. We began to fall into a routine of our own. Witty banter and sarcastic jabs. Gifs and emojis. It almost happened effortlessly. Like two people whom were comfortable in their ways.

It happened in an instant. The night you told me. Told me about her. My heart sank into my chest, but I wasn't quite sure why. We had no real ties to one another. You weren't mine. I wasn't yours. I even thought you liked me more than I you. I was convinced that I had no romantic feelings for you. But as I told you, "Feelings occur. Shit happens. It'll be fine." All at once I was immersed into a variety of feelings. Maybe it was the melancholy soundtrack that accompanied the moment that led me to such emotions, but they were there and they were relevant. And even now, I'm confused. I swore you liked me. I think I was beginning to like you. And while yes, just shy of a month is a very small amount of time, but you understood how much of a romantic I am. You were beginning to get my weird sense of humor, and I yours.

It's occurring now. As I type. This weird sense of sorrow. It shouldn't have caused this much pain. This much wallowing. But maybe that's just it. Maybe I'm not wallowing about you. Maybe I was searching for a reason to wallow. To feel self pity and shame, embarrassment rather. I needed a cleansing cry. A moment to get in-touch with my feelings and be vulnerable.

Thank you for that.
Thank you for sharing with me that little bit of time.
Thank you for allowing me to be vulnerable.
Thank you & farewell.

A Series Of Unpublished Posts

In an effort to try to get back in the writing game, I will be posting writings that I've had saved for a while. The posts will be called "Unpublished," depicting past emotions or ramblings that I never published on here before. Enjoy some older writing of mine, and let me know your thoughts.

xoxo
-Coco

23 Lessons Learned in 23 Years.

23 Lessons Learned in 23 Years.

(Cliches & Mantras Used By Yours Truly)

Seeing as I turned 23 this past weekend, it felt only natural to share a list of 23 lessons that I've learned over the past 23 years of life.

...

1. Be yourself. Love yourself. 
   Fall in love with yourself, your quirks, your guilty pleasures. Embrace them. People will either like you, or they won't, don't worry about it. If you love yourself, others will take note.
2. Surround yourself with people who will help bring out the best in you, and you the best in them. 
   Life is too short to deal with negativity from your friend circle. Surround yourself with cool cats who appreciate you and your likes, people who won't judge you or make you feel guilty. Hang out with folks who you can relax with, and they'll be able to open up to you -- it'll feel natural and effortless. Enjoy that.
3. Life is a bitch. Use precaution, and go forth. 
   I wish I could say that life is peachy keene, jelly bean, but I'd be mistaken. Life is hard. No one said it wouldn't be. But the rumors are true, if you remain positive, and put things in perspective, you'll survive. Good luck.
4. Collect moments, not things. 
   I'm all about the moments. Realize that you are living -- right now. Don't worry too much about tomorrow, or five years from now, live for today. Enjoy the little things in life, it'll make all the difference.
5. Decide what to be and go be it. 
   Yes, The Avett Brothers may have sang this, but I believe it. Be passionate in all that you do. Don't let others tell you that you can't accomplish your goals. Work for what you want, be confident in your choices.
6. Music is there for you no matter what. 
   Music is my religion. Maybe yours is people, or sports, or something else. Find out what it is that truly makes you happy and helps you feel understood. Music is there for me, it helps to be the soundtrack for my life each and everyday.
7. People will come and go from your life. It's natural. 
   You will lose people in your life. Whether it's from a passing, or just a falling-out, it'll happen. You'll mourn the loss, you'll miss them, but you'll move on. Remember the good times you were able to share with them, try not to hang onto any ill feelings about them.
8. Dating, much like most things in life, makes zero sense.
   There's no formula for love, or life, for that matter. Dating applications can only help so much. Embrace the idea of getting to know someone. Their likes, dislikes, their family, real aspects of them. It may work out, it may not. Recognize when you have a real connection with someone, and try to hold onto that.
9. Writing helps sooth the soul. 
   Even if you're not a writer, sometimes it just takes getting the words out on paper to help you through something. Write a letter to your ex about how you feel, you don't have to give it to them. Journal about that family issue, it'll help to relieve the stress. Jot something down on a napkin just to get it out. For me, blogging and journaling help me release built-up emotion. Get it out, you'll feel better.
10. Fashion fades, style remains. Wear what you want. 
    Who cares what the latest fashion trends are. Wear what you feel good in. Pull pieces from your grandmothers wardrobe, piece them with your own finds, it'll be different, it'll be your own. If you want to wear that hat, or that jacket, or that skirt -- go for it! Everyone has their own style, showcase it.
11. Communication is key. 
    No matter the relationship -- professional, platonic, romantic -- communication is necessary. Emails, texts, snapchats, those are great, but don't forget about the simplicity and pure communication of a face-to-face conversation. Express how you're feeling, let people know when you're confused, it'll help the relationship.
12. Time flies when you don't give a shit. 
    Take each day as a new opportunity. Don't stress too much. Don't over-plan. Go with the flow, chill out and take a deep breath. You'll feel more relaxed and have time for yourself and your interests.
13. Feelings occur, shit happens, I'll be fine. All feelings are valid. 
    This is something I've more recently adopted into my mantras. No matter how you're feeling, it is valid. Do not let someone tell you otherwise. You may fall for someone, they may fall for someone else, you'll be crushed, but you'll move on. Feelings don't always fade overnight. This one can be a harder lesson to learn.
14. C'est la vie… or something like that.
    Seize the day. Have fun. Chill out. Sing at the top of your lungs. Dance in public. Talk to that cutie at the bar. If you really like those shoes, buy them. Binge watch Netflix. Do what you want.
15. Never change yourself for someone else.
    Embrace your individuality. Do not adapt yourself to fit the stereotype of what you think society wants you to be. We're all different. When in a relationship, remain true to yourself. Do not pretend to like something because you think they'll like you more. Don't starve yourself for someone else. If you want to change, do it on your own terms, for your own betterment. Do not let a romantic partner change you -- remember your friends, family, career, goals, hobbies, etc.
16. The really great moments are when the world winks in your direction.
    You may be thinking the universe is against you, and just like that, something really great will happen. Maybe you go down a pant size, maybe that job opportunity finally arrived, maybe that cute barista gave you a free drink, whatever it may be -- enjoy it. Life will serve you some hard times, be aware of the tokens of awesomeness that come your way too!
    
17. Be honest. Say what's on your mind. 
    A very recent thing for me. I'm all about the honesty. I went 22 years being nice, not saying everything that was on my mind, not admitting my feelings for someone -- then, one day, something changed -- I decided to be real. I will now go up to the cute guy in the corner and tell him that I like his style, because, why not? I will text you randomly telling you my appreciation for you as a friend. I will let you know how I feel about your new boo. I will also know when to keep my mouth shut, as to not hurt any one's feelings or as to not get myself into too much trouble. There is a fine balance here.
18. Embrace your natural beauty. 
    I have big, wavy, frizzy hair. It took years for me to embrace that. I wanted short, straight hair. Now, my hair is how people find me in a crowd, and I'm okay with that. It doesn't matter if you're 4'11", or 6'2", you're a babe. It doesn't matter if your a size 2 or a size 22, you're a babe. Embrace your look, master your look, love your look. Freckles, glasses, large feet -- whatever it may be, you make that shit look good!
19. Originality is breathtaking. 
    Know who you are. Have your own ideas. Do not copy off of someone else to get attention. Like what you like, don't like what you don't. Posses a passion, share that passion with others, it'll make people swoon. Be original in thought, style, hobbies, etc. Don't cater to the idea of what you think others will think is "cool." Individuality is cool.
20. Family is there for you, no matter what. 
    At the end of the day, you know it's alright to veg out on the couch in your sweats with your family. They may get on your nerves from time to time. They may not be the coolest of cools, but they're your family. Extensions of who you are and where you came from. Learn to embrace that. They've got your back no matter what. Plus, they'll be there with the ice cream when you need to wallow. (Gilmore Girls, anyone?)
21. Coffee, much like pizza, is good no matter what the hour.
    I love pizza. Always have, always will. It's been one of my main food groups for as long as I can remember. I'm always prepared to eat pizza, without a doubt. Coffee, on the other hand, became an acquired taste. I always loved the smell, and when I got older, I was comforted by coffee shops. I don't care if it's 7:00a.m., 3:30p.m., or 4:00a.m. I can drink coffee whenever. The warmness soothes my soul, and helps me feel happy. Call me weird, I don't care. Sometimes I'll opt for the soy chai, but there's something so perfect about going to a diner at 3 in the morning, reflecting on the night out with your friends, and drinking copious amounts of coffee.
22. Take a step back. Recharge. 
    Whether you're an introvert or an extrovert, or somewhere in between. I find myself needing to recharge more and more these days. I love networking, being around people, and just socializing. But there are days or just brief moments where I need time to chill out, recharge, and be quiet for a bit. Give yourself some time to yourself, then get back to your day. This could be in the morning, when you need your coffee and newspaper. Or this could be a night where you go off the grid, and just need some time to yourself. It's important to not burn yourself out. Whether it's with a project at work, a relationship, or socializing. Take a moment to step back. Relax. Refresh. Recharge.
23. No one knows what the hell they're doing. We're human. 
    In today's day and age, it's easy to hop onto social media and see the endless amounts of posts about new jobs, engagements, etc. Do not compare yourself to others. Your successes are just as important as other people's successes. Remember that. We're all human, we all make mistakes. Who cares if your old pal moved to Europe and you're in your hometown. That's great for them, but aren't you happy too? Everyone is trying to figure out their next move, everyone puts on their pants one leg at a time. We're all confused when it comes to life. Fake it 'til you make it, if you have to. Just remember that you are the creator of your legacy. You make your own choices. Yes, there will be some bumps in the road on the journey of life, but that's expected. If you ask others about where they'll be in 5 years, more than likely, they'll also pause and not know. Go with it. Take it day by day. 

...

I'm no expert on life, trust me, but I've learned a thing or two, especially since post-grad. All we can do is put a smile on and go with the flow. Some lessons have to be taught again, some get adapted, but for the most part it's all about becoming your best self and enjoying your life. As I always say: live it, love it, caress it. 

November and I Aren't on The Best of Terms

As the colors of the leaves change, so do the lives of the people around me.

The fall brings a different dynamic to the world. Nature turns into a variety of hues. The wind welcomes our bodies with a crisp hello. The sun tucks itself into bed earlier, and the nighttime joins us. We're greeted by a variety of pumpkin flavored foods and drinks. The layers begin to form in our closets. The flannels are brought out of hibernation, and the socks get chunkier. Along with the sweaters and the jewelry. Fall is here. Hello, Autumn.

Aside from the clothing, we can detect the full fall anthem by the amount of love gained or lost. As of late, I've witnessed many a couples "fall"ing out of love. Perhaps it's due to the Holiday season nearing, or the idea of hibernating with someone for an entire winter could send chills down the wrong lovers' spine. I honestly don't know. Maybe the cooler temps allow couples time to reflect, thus, realizing maybe the time has come to close on their relationship. I have no answers, just observations.


...

The fall has always been my favorite time of the year. Even if I am a winter baby, I love the fall. Autumn, if you will. Everything becomes so photogenic in the foliage of fall. People roam to pumpkin patches and haunted houses. Coffee shops become home (if they're not already) and everyone is in the mood for a hot drink. Something to warm our bones, to ease our spirit and help pick us up from the shorter days. Fall is perfection.

But with fall, also brings the month of November. My least favorite month of the year.

On a cold November night in 2010, tragedy struck my family. My grandmother, whom had been sick on and off for a few decades, passed. I have a hard time still thinking about this. It was November 4th. It was late at night, and I remember my mother answering the phone. I remember rushing to her side as she sobbed. Stunned and confused. We cried. Shirley was and will always be remembered as one of the most inspirational people I've ever met. To be her granddaughter was such a blessing. An honor. Born in the early '40s, Shirley Belew Helton grew up an average girl. She went to school, and was raised in the home in which she lived out the rest of her life. She went to beauty school with her friends on a whim and became one of the best beauticians in the city of Corbin, Ky. She had three beautiful children and married one earnest businessman. A country boy at heart, and businessman by trade. Shirley and Clifton lived an average life. Full of love and family and their fair amount of hardships as well as happiness. Shirley loved everyone. She passed no judgement, for we are all God's children. She went to church every Sunday, sang in the choir and wore a blazer every other day. She didn't leave the house without the perfect shade of lipstick and made sure to always coordinate her handbag to her outfit. I learned a lot from this woman. She taught me the words to Amazing Grace at a very young age, and encouraged me to follow my creative instincts. We used to play her keyboard, in which she'd teach me hymns and Christmas carols. Her soul was pure. Even when she lost her eyesight, she never complained. For she was alive and well, and was able to sing and feel the love around her. Words cannot describe the admiration I have for this woman. I remember in her last weeks, my mother visited her in the hospital nearly everyday, making the trek from Cincinnati to Lexington. Sometimes I would join, but me being a selfish 18-year-old in my first semester of college, I made excuses of being too busy or having too much homework. Those are moments that I regret. Not having the opportunity to tell her goodbye, not being there for her, not reading to her, not singing with her, not telling her about college. I still regret it. But long before her passing, she'd made me promise that I'd sing Amazing Grace at her funeral. And so I did. I kept my promise. I remember looking out into the pews filled with familiar faces and strangers alike, I sobbed, not necessarily because I was sad. I was, obviously. But for being so blessed to be a part of this amazing woman's life. I remember thinking that if I touched half as many lives as she did, I'd be one lucky woman myself.

And so, I digress. The 4th anniversary of Maw's passing happened this week. Each year, it doesn't get easier, it just becomes a day in which we celebrate her. I usually wear a scarf that she passed down to me. And I remember that the reason I began wearing my signature red lip stain was in remembrance of her. A way I can remember her each and everyday.

There are numerous other reasons why I hate November.

On another cold night in November, the 30th to be exact in 2011, we lost a close family friend. Chad (my brother)'s very best friend. He and Chad were the same age, sharing the same birthday. Andy King was a charismatic, passionate, crazy and kind guy. He'd been very ill in his last years of life. I remember the first time I met him. A young, naive Chanell, wanting her older brothers to bring home their cute guy friends. Andy was dressed in head to toe camouflage, like he normally did, topped with a bright orange beanie. I remember saying "He's butt ugly, why can't Chad have cute friends?" I would soon learn to love Andy. Not in a romantic way, but in a brother-sister way. He was Chad's best friend, each other's wing men, partners in crime. They would most normally be found at the drag strip or the local WalMart parking lot, but probably behind a camera, creating their film series "Stupid Human Tricks." No adventure was too big, they would venture to foreign towns to trade cars off of Craigslist, they'd be found cross dressing to make a scene or hunting somewhere in the woods of Campbell County. There was never a dull moment with Andy and Chad. Even when Andy had to walk around with a colostomy bag, using a walker to get to his jacked-up diesel truck, he was still a hoot. I remember distinctly a time when he was belting out Big & Rich's Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy, shuffling to his truck with his walker, "I'm a thoroughbred, that's what she said..." He was like my idol. Seeing him so weak, but being so strong, he was amazing. The funeral came, and I remember by brother and his friends just in a different state than normal. They weren't necessarily emotional. They seemed confused and restraining themselves from tears. Being strong. But I knew the truth, they all were missing him. Andy is unforgettable and irreplaceable.

And just as we thought we'd had enough of November. Bad things happen in threes, I suppose.

Tragedy struck again. Another damn cold night. November 18, 2012. Exactly two years and two weeks after my grandma's passing, my grandpa passed. Cliff, or "Big Daddy" as everyone called him was one of the scariest people I knew growing up. He was a  true Corbin man. Owning a country store out in the "hollers" of Barbourville, Ky. He smoked a lot of cigarettes, drank moonshine and carried a gun in his briefcase for safety. He believed in structure and tradition. He didn't fool with technology and wanted to make sure that us grand kids were getting a proper education. As he grew older, he grew softer. He became more lenient. Allowing us to have cellphones out. We could stay up past 9 p.m., and he wasn't as set on having his certain chair at the table. He allowed us to have visitors over and actually enjoyed talking to people. Big Daddy was amazing. As I grew older, I learned to appreciate his old-fashioned ways. He lost his leg, wheeled himself in a wheelchair, but still managed to get up and go to work everyday. Even in his last few moments of life. He had been in almost nearly perfect health. He was found with his glasses still on his face, with the UK game on the television. At his funeral, I once again sang Amazing Grace. He enjoyed my singing and it reminded him of Shirley. My mother would never be the same after her mother passed, but then losing her father, she was at a loss. And she still is.



So, as the seasons change. As November begins, I cringe. For although I love the fall. It can be a bit harsh. Both in low temperatures, as well as in taking the lives of those close to me... I can only hope that this November is better.

And I digress yet again. For it's more important to maintain a state of positivity. A lush hope. Here's to a better November. Or maybe Green Day should have titled the song "Wake Me Up When November Ends."

Defining A Happy Place

Amidst the various aromas of chain food, the brightly colored menus and the families with loads of loot from a day well spent at the mall, my mother and I discuss happiness. 

It is no secret that my mother has changed. A piece of her died when her parents passed. Her closeness to her mother was something to admire. They talked everyday on the phone. Every morning in a three way conversation with my aunt. 

6:30am on the dot. That was their ritual. For years. 

That was my mother's happy place. Those long distance phone calls. Her morning conference call was the equivalent to most folks' morning caffeine. 

I must say that my grandmother was and will always be remembered as a remarkable woman. Someone who loved everyone. Blind. Literally and figuratively. She passed no judgement and was the most selfless person I've ever known. Her name was Shirley. Also commonly referred to as Shirl Girl.  

My mother was close to Shirley. And since a cold November day in 2010, my mother hasn't been the same. 

And as life would have it, tragedy struck again when my mother's father passed an exact 2 years and 2 weeks after her mother. 

Since November 2012, my mother has had to cope with the loss of her best friend, her parents, and her happy place. 

No longer does my mom feel the need to visit her childhood home. What's left is not the same, and most of the family has up and moved away. 

My mother has lost that twinkle in her eye. That spark that made her so loving and joyful. 

She knows it. 

I know it. 

I assume that others have caught on. 

...And thus I cannot relate. 

But I can empathize. 

For I have my parents. I haven't (fortunately) lost anyone that mattered that much to me as her parents did her. 

I want to help her. I want to shake her and sprinkle the joy back into her bones. I want to trade places and let her see what it's like to be a young adult again. For I know that I am lucky to have my entire future in front of me.

But that's where we were. 

Two lost souls in the middle of a food court. Pondering life over our picked-at rice meals.

What is happiness?

I proclaimed that it was really just a facade that people hide behind and pretend to be happy. For are people really "happy?" What does that even mean. 

My mother decided it meant to be okay and content with your life and your passions. 

But I don't think that's right. I don't think happiness should be complacent or something you settle for. 

For as long as I can remember when people (or countless scholarship essays )would ask me to define what I wanted to be when I got older, I would always want to be happy. I used to define the pleasures of happiness were equivalent to those of succeeding. And each person defines it a different way. 

I do not believe I have a "happy place." I think my memories and dreams are what make me happy.

Moments in time that I can find stashed away in my mind. Times where I'd smile to myself, where I'd cry tears of joy. Moments when I'd be singing at the top of my lungs, when I achieved something off my bucket list. Those are the times that create happiness for me. 

But I cannot tell you if I am happy in the now. 

I feel like I'm still floating, wading, rather in a pool. It feels shallow at times, but as soon as I stick my hand in the water, my heart races knowing that I could sink or swim. 

And that's life. 

I think. 

I am no pro. Yet. 

There are people and things and moments and places that help to remind you of happiness. But I don't know if you can define being happy as a current emotion. Let's take graduating... I wasn't "happy" in the moment. Everything was happening so fast. I was trying to digest what was going on around me. It was surreal. And now, I can look back on the photos and judging by my candid, cackling-smile photos, I know that I was achieving something. And that makes me happy, I think?

I had no mood ring to confirm if I was happy. 

Life doesn't come complete with a mood ring. Or directions for that matter. Life: accessories not included. 

Are people really happy? Or are they pretending? Do we try way too hard pretending to be something that we're not in order to present ourselves in a fashion in which we think will make society happy? Is that happiness? 

These are the the thoughts that I have. Late at night. Having an existential crisis from the comfort of my twin size bed. Or the table at the mall food court eating steak and rice with my mother. 

I think happiness is an option, not a priority. Or a necessity. Living is. And I'll just continue to move forward. 

Post Grad: The Veil Of Uncertainty

Up until now I've taken everything for granted. Time mostly. But kind of just life in general. 

I think the feeling of a chapter ending has really struck me. 

It only took about two months, endless hours of Netflix, and a few dozen over-thinking nights to get here. 

It's as though I've been given a new pair of sunglasses in which the tint has changed everything from rose to a more golden hue (maybe it's grey) but the point is that everything seems to be changing hues in front of my eyes. 

I know that I've found myself in slumps before. Moments of sheer terror where I have no incline or idea of what my future holds. I've experienced those times where I've rethought the relationships around me. I've thought about boarding a plane, backpacking through the mountains, and embarking on a real Into The Wild experience. 

But this time, this time I think something is different. 

No longer do I have the safety of college. Classes with textbooks to read (or not read).  Lectures to take notes from. Friends to conveniently grab coffee with or catch up over a slice of pizza in the Student Union. 

No, this isn't my life anymore. 

I have no circle of sisters to meet with every Sunday. No homework that's due in a month, that I will start the night before. Okay, maybe the week before. No longer will I instagram the wondrous colors of Griffin Hall. No more student ID. No more campus events. 

Reality, at this point, is that I am forced to grow up now. And while yes, I know that I am an old soul, and I am meant to experience all that life has to offer -- I also am uncertain of the future. 

So uncertain in fact that I think I'm hiding from it. 

Thus far, in my life, I've had things planned out. School was a necessity from kindergarten to high school graduation. From there, college was a choice. Seeing as I am a first generation college student/grad/you know what I mean, college was the plan. Four years seemed like an adequate amount of time to find a degree, learn what I'm passionate about and set forth on my life before me. 

Boy, am I naive. 

Countless people had warned me about life post-grad, but I am a firm believer in taking advice into consideration, following my heart and going with the flow. I'm a type B kinda gal in that sense. Let the chips fall where they may, and work for what you love. 

Let's reflect on my two months of "real life." 

After graduation, I let on like everything was normal. Attending concerts per usual, working my same job, hanging out with new and old friends… all felt comfortable. Typical. I was on summer vacation. Let's add the element of my one of my best friends leaving for his dream job for the summer only a mere weeks after my graduating, leaving me in Northern Kentucky without my adventure buddy. I felt stuck.

Then I became ill with a disgustingly painful cyst on my tailbone. I won't go into detail. But it hurt A LOT, forcing me to get some surgery and be cooped up in bed for days upon weeks, turning into almost a month of lack of socialization with the outside world. 

During this time, when I wasn't almost paralyzed with pain, I found an escape through literature and film. I'd put myself in the shoes of the characters I was reading or watching. (Let's just say I understand The Graduate a little more, minus the whole affair idea.)  I delved into Netflix television series and began to become one with the characters on the screen. These were my friends during my time of pain, they didn't judge me for not being able to shower or care that I was a recent graduate of college just going with the flow.

As I began to take baby steps back into the light of day, I ran into friendly faces. People who wanted to know my plans for the future. How's post grad life? Where are you working? Are you going to grad school?  

Cue the tears.

Okay, maybe a little more of a spinning head. Some self-doubt and anxious moods.

All of a sudden, everyone wanted to know what I'd be doing with the rest of my life. And all along, I thought at this point I'd have an answer. 

But I don't. 

At this point, I've considered creating a shirt that says "I graduated college and I'm just trying to enjoy the free time, I'll let you know when I've figured out the rest." But perhaps that would be too abrasive, and we all know that I'm not one for confrontation. 

I hadn't been around people in weeks, I was happy to stand again, I hadn't really thought about where I'd be applying next. 

And perhaps that's where the problem lies. I hadn't put enough thought into my future endeavors. For up until this point, things were calculated for me or I had a plan and went with the flow to make it all happen. 

This should be no different. 

But it is. 

And that terrifies me. 

What if I don't find a "big girl job?" OR what if I find a job and I don't like it? OR what if I'm bad at it? 

What if everything that I thought I was passionate about/thought I was good at has been a complete misunderstanding. What if I'm a failure. 

This is where I find myself a lot these days. Thinking. Asking myself about life. And in all honesty, I just want to enjoy some free time. I would love a job, I'd love to be practicing my degree, but I also know that I have time for all that.

And thus, here I am. Typing away on my MacBook in the dark of my bedroom at midnight. Snapchatting my best friend while he stares out the window of his New York City digs. 

Envious doesn't even begin to explain it. 

I want adventure. I want love. I want to experience life. I want happiness. 

Perhaps I'm selfish. Perhaps I should have experienced more while in college. Perhaps I should suck it up, stop being picky, and just get a job.

I've had some time to explore my interests. Making plenty of lists. I can safely say that the job hunting process is tiring. It can be cruel. But it can also be a great way to do some soul searching. I'll keep trying to figure out what's happening and where I'll go from here…. but for now, the tshirt is still an option. 

And now that I have successfully survived the most painful thing I've had to date (that dang cyst was paralyzing), I think that I'll be able to survive the summer and embark on a new journey of self discovery and post-grad life choices. 

Come August, when everyone is going back to school, I hope that this veil of foggy tomorrows and rainy what ifs will go away. I'll be able to focus again and get back to living. 

Until then, I digress. 

Different.

And that's when I realized that my family was different. 

As I scrolled through the countless images of families dressed in pastels. Baskets in hand. Bonnets on heads. 

I realized what I wanted. 

I wanted to feel love. 

It all makes sense. 

My family, we love each other. But we don't express it as others do.  

We don't go on family vacations. No family dinners. No trips to the lake, like we used to. 

I want that. 

I want an extended family. In-laws. Cousins. Nieces. Nephews. 

I wanted to share and experience in love. 

Every holiday comes and goes, we'll get gifts for a split second, revel in each others company over a meal, and then it's off our separate ways. To the living room for television. Escaping to the internet to see what others were doing. And yard work or dishes for the parentals. 

Maybe this is why I'm so hesitant to love, but so eager at the same time. 

I know what I want, but I've never had the chance to partake. 

And that's the scary part. 

What happens when I do? 

Will I leach on. Run away. Or just play it coy, like I always do. 

I love love. I just can't bring myself to say it out loud.

Yes, I'm a hopeless romantic. I dream of the day that someone will feel for me the way that I feel for them. 

It may not be a sparks fly moment, like they show in movies, but a girl can dream. 

I just want to feel. 

Ya know?

Life passes us by. Day by day.

We're constantly drudging along, floating by, looking forward to the future. But what about the present?

My family doesn't understand why I'm so hellbent on the idea of one day falling in love. 

But the truth is -- I've never fallen in love. With a human being. 

Therefore, I don't know what I'm missing out on. 

It's terrifying. Knowing there's a feeling that pretty much the entire world has felt at some point in their lives, sometimes multiple times.

And I have not. 

I fall in love with characters. These ideas and concepts of people in books, movies, shows, songs, and more. And maybe that's why I dream up the characters of my ideal mate. 

He'll understand my love for music, my nervous habit of licking my teeth, the way that I'd rather spend hours at concerts or coffee shops than at the mall. How Momma Autumn is my best friend. And how I've been collecting postcards for the majority of my life, but I cannot honestly tell you where most of them are stashed around my house. 

He'll get that. 

And I'll get him. 

But I don't get to experience that. Not right now. 

And that's seriously okay. It's just heartbreaking sometimes. 

Especially around holidays. 

As friends and their families take photos and partake in their traditions. 

I sit. 

In my room. 

Benge watching television shows and romantic comedies. 

That's my life. 

I'm living it. 

But I'm also praying and hoping for an ever loving future. 

And remember, it's okay to be different. This is what life is all about. 

I just can't wait to admit my love. 

Moving

Change. Not the loose kind. The life kind. 

After a little over 7 years being stationary in one home, twenty two years of my life gets placed into boxes, bags and bins. The time has come. 

To move.

As we riffle through our belongings, this is my time to reflect. To reminisce. To pilfer over the items that have had significant meaning to me over the years. Now, they all get tossed into piles. Piles to be moved into a new home. 

I've already had the hard move. Moving in the middle of your Freshman year of high school is difficult. Spending my early years in the walls of a mold-infested farm home with acres of land out in the country to sing, dance, and explore; then moving to the swoop-roofed home "in-town." The difference was a lot to handle at the time. 

And now, we move yet again. Here, only a few hundred feet away from the last. A home built in the late 1880's, with the charm and potential of a home my family had been seeking for years. 

As I sit here, I see our belongings in piles, crowded around me, enclosing my workspace that has turned into the couch. Boxes of curtains, old toys, books, musical instruments and more. These items that have a history, stories, and those that are new and are waiting to experience life with us. 

With exposed brick and hardwood floors, I feel at home. Yes, the vibes here are nice. A lot of history, a ton of character, and space that will make this house a home. 

The move has taken its toll -- a change in moods, stress levels at an all time high, and disorganization -- we're adjusting. 

Some more than others. 

I enjoy the change. I feel like we have a breath of fresh air in the family now. The dynamics different, but stronger. I feel matured? Wiser? No. Just better. Different.

As time went on in our latest home, more and more things began to disappear. Into the abyss of boxes and bags. Labels made their ways onto the piles. But the feeling was unshakeable. 

Every time I walked into my house, something different was missing. It began to feel empty.  

As we embarked on this change, I could feel the cold walls becoming barren.  No memories left.  No love to spare.  

Perhaps this was how we were all beginning to feel. Cold, barren, empty, and ready to move on. Because as we all know, everything is a metaphor anyhow. We were becoming the house, and the house we. 

No longer were we able to hide in our rooms with our gadgets, we spent time together in the empty rooms of what once were our living room, sun room, and dining room. Toward the end of the move, we had become squatters in our home. 

Air mattresses lined the interior of the first floor of the house. Coolers sat around for drinks and "refrigeration" of food. Pop cans scattered throughout with wrappers and fry boxes a wry. 

Our home was beginning to revert back to a house. Just some house that we were crashing in for a few nights until we got settled into the new place. The walls were stripped of their charm and family photos. No more music to fill the air, and no more food to disperse aromas throughout the house. 

The change was different. A little weird. Especially at this time in my life. 

I'm graduating in a little over a month from college. This means the time is nearing for me to find a "big girl" job, get a "big girl" apartment, and start my "big girl" life. No longer can I escape from the real world madness, and hide in the surroundings of campus. But I'm ready for it. 

I've been in this awkward limbo where I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.  I know my future is awaiting me, but I also want to make sure that I enjoy every last moment that I have with the Norse as an undergrad. Attending games, fraternity parties, events, having lunch on-campus, staying up late writing papers, and enjoying the scenery of our campus. But, I also am ready to focus on more intimate details of my life. 

For years, I have had to spread myself thin between school, homework, work, organizations A-Z, meetings, family time, internships, free time, and sleep.  I'm ready for the days where I can work during the day, enjoy lunch breaks with coworkers and friends, focus on my job and its projects, then focus on myself and my hobbies. Making time for family and friends, and really strategizing my time as a young adult. 

This will be amazing, and maybe I have no concept of what life actually is like, but that's okay. I'm ready to find out. That's the adventure.

So until then, I'll continue to write little ramblings on my Mac in coffee shops, take notes of fantasies in the note section of my iPhone, tweet about my favorite moments, and continue to live my life as a college Senior. I'll need to start working on a plan for how I'll decorate my cap, and pick out what dress to wear. I'll need a plan for a grad party, and prepare myself for the summer of weddings and baby showers. Summer is right around the bin, and I cannot wait for the sun and fun of life. Until then, here's this ramble. Change is a good thing. #NKUnextstep 

A Tale of 'Never Been Kissed'

I've had the privilege of being published in my school's paper, check it out! 

The Northerner: A tale of 'never been kissed'

(p.s. it was in honor of Valentine's Day nearing, and as most of you know, this is real). 

A Love Poem (of Sorts).

 

He sees her from across the room.

His eyes light up.
Her heart

stops.


Time stands   

still.



The room is full.
Yet, there is no one else.

     Just he.
     Just her.


It's all a blur.


When their eyes meet, his smile widens.

Never has he seen such a girl,
a dreams-come-true kind of gal.

She in her unique ways.
He in his mysterious manner.

Together. 
What a pair.
 

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