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