Thursday, November 26
Wednesday, October 21
Good morning!
Here I am waiting for this meteor shower and listening to The Flaming Lips!
Do You Realize - The Flaming Lips
I'm not sure if I'm delusional from being up this early or the magic in this song but I'm feeling pretty good right now!
Alright.
Do You Realize - The Flaming Lips
I'm not sure if I'm delusional from being up this early or the magic in this song but I'm feeling pretty good right now!
Alright.
Tuesday, October 20
family on facebook
So, I have this uncle on my dad's side of the family I never met but always really felt like I could relate to. When my dad first moved to the US, he roomed with my uncle Ray who I'm assuming, from what they tell me at least, was the 'black sheep' of the family.
I hope you know what I mean by 'black sheep' because I don't want to have to explain that idiom. On a random night with Arabs and an Egytian, I found myself having to do so, which really brought the party I was at down. Never mix idioms and brew. Especially if you use bad examples.
"You know, black sheep! Like bad seed!"
"Seeds?"
"Yeah yeah, idiom. Like, I'm in a pickle."
"What the fuck does a pickle have to do with sheep?"
"No, no. Idioms, idioms."
"Shut the fuck up."
This wasn't the first time I tried giving out basic English lectures while drunk.
ANYWAYS, back to my uncle Ray. Whose real name is Rey, which is directly translated as 'King', but I'd feel uncomfortable referring to him as that, so I'm 'Americanizing' his name, if you can even call it that... Yes, now, uncle Ray!
He roomed with my dad, was in a band, listened to Cat Stevens, Pink Floyd, Black Sabbath, Santana... you know, the good stuff. Well, he took off to Canada in '86, and no one really heard from him after that. Now, my dad was stuck with all his stuff and every apartment he'd move to there would go my uncle's things with him. His amps, tapes, records, guitar. Everything. As the years passed by, the boxes became less and less, my parents met, married, and life went on, as did my uncle Ray's boxes. Now about six years ago my parents finally settled in the suburbs, as well as my uncle Ray's boxes. During the summer of 04 I had started to smoke pot and after a lovely evening with a water bottle and foil, (that's how we did it, old school) I had the necessity of watching the Disney movie Fantasia. So there I went with my high, into the garage. On a mission. Instead of finding Mickey and his sorcerer's hat, I found myself looking in my uncle Rey's box. A single box. I pulled out a VHS copy of Pink Floyd's the wall. And so it began.
Everyday I dug deeper and deeper in that box. Eventually I found a pipe and it was from there I knew I had to get to know this anonymous uncle. My dad eventually found the VHS copy of The wall, and questioned me. About a weekend later, it was all gone, except for the guitar and it's an amp. All the tapes, all the records, note books, drawings. I felt like it had be left to me. As a gift in a way.
So now the amp sits in my room and so does that beautiful fender, which I feel like I'm degrading it by touching it. That's how nice that guitar is! And the pipe, which my dad found and hid.
ANYWAYS, this uncle got in touch with our family a few years ago.
He's married, still in Canada, with two kids and a cat.
Sell out.
What I'm trying to get at IS, a few days ago I got a friend's request on facebook. My Uncle Ray. I accept of course the only picture of him, is this thin man in shorts, probably in his fifties, gray hair and mustache, at what seems to be a public pool. I don't know what to say. Honestly! I want to tell him all these things, with out overwhelming him! But this is practically a stranger! What if he's changed? What if he stopped enjoying music! What if... he's a born again christian!? GOD! (no irony, intended) So I don't say anything at all. The next day I see in my feed he has taken a quiz "What type of underwear are you?" His result; Thong.
On a lighter note, my dad has a facebook he says he doesn't care about.
Liar, he's already added everyone in the family except for me.
So talk about me going to Germany is now set in stone.
My cousin Melani is already teaching me all the insults and dirty words.
I'm promised a trip to Munich, in which I will buy beer for everyone because I can.
I left my ipod's usb cord at home. Kill me.
Okay.
I hope you know what I mean by 'black sheep' because I don't want to have to explain that idiom. On a random night with Arabs and an Egytian, I found myself having to do so, which really brought the party I was at down. Never mix idioms and brew. Especially if you use bad examples.
"You know, black sheep! Like bad seed!"
"Seeds?"
"Yeah yeah, idiom. Like, I'm in a pickle."
"What the fuck does a pickle have to do with sheep?"
"No, no. Idioms, idioms."
"Shut the fuck up."
This wasn't the first time I tried giving out basic English lectures while drunk.
ANYWAYS, back to my uncle Ray. Whose real name is Rey, which is directly translated as 'King', but I'd feel uncomfortable referring to him as that, so I'm 'Americanizing' his name, if you can even call it that... Yes, now, uncle Ray!
He roomed with my dad, was in a band, listened to Cat Stevens, Pink Floyd, Black Sabbath, Santana... you know, the good stuff. Well, he took off to Canada in '86, and no one really heard from him after that. Now, my dad was stuck with all his stuff and every apartment he'd move to there would go my uncle's things with him. His amps, tapes, records, guitar. Everything. As the years passed by, the boxes became less and less, my parents met, married, and life went on, as did my uncle Ray's boxes. Now about six years ago my parents finally settled in the suburbs, as well as my uncle Ray's boxes. During the summer of 04 I had started to smoke pot and after a lovely evening with a water bottle and foil, (that's how we did it, old school) I had the necessity of watching the Disney movie Fantasia. So there I went with my high, into the garage. On a mission. Instead of finding Mickey and his sorcerer's hat, I found myself looking in my uncle Rey's box. A single box. I pulled out a VHS copy of Pink Floyd's the wall. And so it began.
Everyday I dug deeper and deeper in that box. Eventually I found a pipe and it was from there I knew I had to get to know this anonymous uncle. My dad eventually found the VHS copy of The wall, and questioned me. About a weekend later, it was all gone, except for the guitar and it's an amp. All the tapes, all the records, note books, drawings. I felt like it had be left to me. As a gift in a way.
So now the amp sits in my room and so does that beautiful fender, which I feel like I'm degrading it by touching it. That's how nice that guitar is! And the pipe, which my dad found and hid.
ANYWAYS, this uncle got in touch with our family a few years ago.
He's married, still in Canada, with two kids and a cat.
Sell out.
What I'm trying to get at IS, a few days ago I got a friend's request on facebook. My Uncle Ray. I accept of course the only picture of him, is this thin man in shorts, probably in his fifties, gray hair and mustache, at what seems to be a public pool. I don't know what to say. Honestly! I want to tell him all these things, with out overwhelming him! But this is practically a stranger! What if he's changed? What if he stopped enjoying music! What if... he's a born again christian!? GOD! (no irony, intended) So I don't say anything at all. The next day I see in my feed he has taken a quiz "What type of underwear are you?" His result; Thong.
On a lighter note, my dad has a facebook he says he doesn't care about.
Liar, he's already added everyone in the family except for me.
So talk about me going to Germany is now set in stone.
My cousin Melani is already teaching me all the insults and dirty words.
I'm promised a trip to Munich, in which I will buy beer for everyone because I can.
I left my ipod's usb cord at home. Kill me.
Okay.
Monday, October 19
By the Sea side
I'm half way done with This side of paradise which makes me happy. What doesn't make me happy is that I'm aware of what's going on, fully, I just have no feeling towards it. I feel like I'm reading just to read. UGH!
Besides that, life's been looking up. I guess.
I haven't had a cigarette in two days, going on strong for three.
I haven't had a drink in about four going on for five!
I'm not sure how long it's been since I've smoked-smoked, I guess that's not important anymore.
I convinced my mom to take me to Galveston for a week or two just to stay in Dad's condo. It helps me get clear headed. The condo has it's own private beach and I need my morning walk's back. Plus the weather is just to die for.
I'm eating a ceaser salad. Although, I regret it. This cheese literally tastes like shit. Turdy's the word I believe.
Well.
Besides that, life's been looking up. I guess.
I haven't had a cigarette in two days, going on strong for three.
I haven't had a drink in about four going on for five!
I'm not sure how long it's been since I've smoked-smoked, I guess that's not important anymore.
I convinced my mom to take me to Galveston for a week or two just to stay in Dad's condo. It helps me get clear headed. The condo has it's own private beach and I need my morning walk's back. Plus the weather is just to die for.
I'm eating a ceaser salad. Although, I regret it. This cheese literally tastes like shit. Turdy's the word I believe.
Well.
Wednesday, October 14
So.
Today I actually checked out books from the library.
I'm starting to read This Side of paradise by F. Scott Fitzgerald.
Only, I'm not reading it NOW because I kept getting distracted.
My room is a mess. I was on my bed, finishing the Preface, you know where they tell you about the author, his parents, crazy wife, mental breakdown, and ultimately (at least this case) his death, and I didn't feel at ease, yknow? I looked over to my right and there's jeans toppled on top of my journal. Which I had been looking for earlier, because I wanted to note a Oscar Wilde quote. "Experience is simply the name people give their mistakes." Well, I put the book down, picked up my journal, wrote the quote and went back to reading. I didn't feel at ease though, there's something about a dirty room. I read what was left of the preface and folded clothes.
Anyways. A little more on my day. Race back to about 10 am.
I drank what was left of an MD 20/20 (yuck, only kiwi lime isn't so bad) and yes, I do drink in the morning. Although, I promised my self yesterday that I wouldn't drink anymore. I'm trying to start living a little less recklessly than how I have been doing. That and come on, I need a little discipline in my life.
SIDENOTE: (these sidenotes are bad habits, I do this in my journal alot) I HERE BY PROMISE MYSELF NOT TO DRINK ANYMORE. OR ELSE... I WILL PULL OUT AN EYELASH FOR EVERY BOTTLE/CONTAINER/GLASS/ETC.
I picked up/dropped off Jennifer and Jessica at school, and since I've convinced myself I need to start thinking about school, really yeah. I wondered if I could talk to an adviser in their high school. I go to the front office and ask for a "Mr.Strait" who from what they told me, has a funny laugh and a cluttered office with diet cokes everywhere. I told them to refer me to the least funny looking, funny sounding man, because I had just drank. I told my friends this, not the secretaries. I go up to the front desk, and they give me a weird look because I'm not in class.
"I don't go here."
I'm saying this while holding an empty binder.
"I just need to talk to Mr. Strait."
So they send me in. I'm trying to sober up a little. Just so I can get a little out of this conversation, it's about my 'future' after all. They were right about the diet cokes. I shook his hand.
"Hi, I'm Caroline. I don't go here but a few people referred me to you."
He lit up. No, we didn't smoke bud. Although... that would've made for an interesting SAT conversation. He smiled. Beamed, practically.
I noticed he looked like a potato when he got up to hand me about fifty packets. Said something about registering online, then sat back in his chair. I kept looking at him. He seemed like he was melting in that chair. Melting into him self. He actually looked kind of like Jabba the Hutt. With glasses and a button up.
You can imagine. I left though and left a little more motivated than how I walked in.
I needed fiction books. The last books I've read were either references, biographies, how to's or journals. Seriously, from books on how to knit, to philosophical accounts on love, which just left me more confused and guarded. Too much reality including what's going on with me currently. I need some type of escapism that isn't harmful to my well being. I always loved reading fiction. I can't really remember why I stopped.
No more drinking. And that's that.
I have a friend who just left for Europe. Lucky. I didn't get to see him as much as I would've liked before he left thanks to my mother being heartless, and tmobile for screwing with your service, hah. And now I feel even more sad because he was stuck in an airport so he texted me and I missed it because of a cigarette. I sent him a text telling him to be careful, but not too careful. Today after I spoke with the Jabba the Hutt adviser I went back to Jennifer's house to play the piano. Her family has a nice grand piano, that her, jess and I really wish for her to inherit. I wanted to call my friend up and play piano for him. Actually I just wanted to leave it in his voicemail, because I feel that it would've been most appropriate. I didn't do it though. Because I felt that he would answer and well, like I said, drunk piano playing is voicemail material. It was a nice little jam session with my self though.
Oh yeah favorite thing today. Piano playing of course! And the fact I've been alone for most of the day. It really is nice.
I'm starting to read This Side of paradise by F. Scott Fitzgerald.
Only, I'm not reading it NOW because I kept getting distracted.
My room is a mess. I was on my bed, finishing the Preface, you know where they tell you about the author, his parents, crazy wife, mental breakdown, and ultimately (at least this case) his death, and I didn't feel at ease, yknow? I looked over to my right and there's jeans toppled on top of my journal. Which I had been looking for earlier, because I wanted to note a Oscar Wilde quote. "Experience is simply the name people give their mistakes." Well, I put the book down, picked up my journal, wrote the quote and went back to reading. I didn't feel at ease though, there's something about a dirty room. I read what was left of the preface and folded clothes.
Anyways. A little more on my day. Race back to about 10 am.
I drank what was left of an MD 20/20 (yuck, only kiwi lime isn't so bad) and yes, I do drink in the morning. Although, I promised my self yesterday that I wouldn't drink anymore. I'm trying to start living a little less recklessly than how I have been doing. That and come on, I need a little discipline in my life.
SIDENOTE: (these sidenotes are bad habits, I do this in my journal alot) I HERE BY PROMISE MYSELF NOT TO DRINK ANYMORE. OR ELSE... I WILL PULL OUT AN EYELASH FOR EVERY BOTTLE/CONTAINER/GLASS/ETC.
I picked up/dropped off Jennifer and Jessica at school, and since I've convinced myself I need to start thinking about school, really yeah. I wondered if I could talk to an adviser in their high school. I go to the front office and ask for a "Mr.Strait" who from what they told me, has a funny laugh and a cluttered office with diet cokes everywhere. I told them to refer me to the least funny looking, funny sounding man, because I had just drank. I told my friends this, not the secretaries. I go up to the front desk, and they give me a weird look because I'm not in class.
"I don't go here."
I'm saying this while holding an empty binder.
"I just need to talk to Mr. Strait."
So they send me in. I'm trying to sober up a little. Just so I can get a little out of this conversation, it's about my 'future' after all. They were right about the diet cokes. I shook his hand.
"Hi, I'm Caroline. I don't go here but a few people referred me to you."
He lit up. No, we didn't smoke bud. Although... that would've made for an interesting SAT conversation. He smiled. Beamed, practically.
I noticed he looked like a potato when he got up to hand me about fifty packets. Said something about registering online, then sat back in his chair. I kept looking at him. He seemed like he was melting in that chair. Melting into him self. He actually looked kind of like Jabba the Hutt. With glasses and a button up.
You can imagine. I left though and left a little more motivated than how I walked in.
I needed fiction books. The last books I've read were either references, biographies, how to's or journals. Seriously, from books on how to knit, to philosophical accounts on love, which just left me more confused and guarded. Too much reality including what's going on with me currently. I need some type of escapism that isn't harmful to my well being. I always loved reading fiction. I can't really remember why I stopped.
No more drinking. And that's that.
I have a friend who just left for Europe. Lucky. I didn't get to see him as much as I would've liked before he left thanks to my mother being heartless, and tmobile for screwing with your service, hah. And now I feel even more sad because he was stuck in an airport so he texted me and I missed it because of a cigarette. I sent him a text telling him to be careful, but not too careful. Today after I spoke with the Jabba the Hutt adviser I went back to Jennifer's house to play the piano. Her family has a nice grand piano, that her, jess and I really wish for her to inherit. I wanted to call my friend up and play piano for him. Actually I just wanted to leave it in his voicemail, because I feel that it would've been most appropriate. I didn't do it though. Because I felt that he would answer and well, like I said, drunk piano playing is voicemail material. It was a nice little jam session with my self though.
Oh yeah favorite thing today. Piano playing of course! And the fact I've been alone for most of the day. It really is nice.
Tuesday, October 13
wet and warm
I've been in and out of the bath tub. Sometimes up to three times a day. It brings up so many emotions for me. Soothes others. It's nice.
Caroline: I'm so tempted to drink the rest of my MD and bathe. I love being in the water.
11:48pm
Eric: do it, i hate it lol i love my warm dry bed
11:48pm
Caroline: WHAT why!? oh, I do too. But I love the water more! Especially now that I dont give a fuck about my hair. I love falling asleep after a bath.
11:49pm
Eric: hah i know aht you mean, if you take a real hot bath, it will knock you out!
11:49pm
Caroline: Yes! that's what I want! It's so nice. You're toes get this weird peanut feeling.
AND I CAUGHT IT! I CAUGHT IT! I caught the very second where my pillow and comforter turned from cold and generic to comfy and cozy and warm. OR in other words when my body temperature adjusted. It was ground breaking. I promise. Look for it the next time you sleep. Especially if you've missed it for your past life time.
Caroline: I'm so tempted to drink the rest of my MD and bathe. I love being in the water.
11:48pm
Eric: do it, i hate it lol i love my warm dry bed
11:48pm
Caroline: WHAT why!? oh, I do too. But I love the water more! Especially now that I dont give a fuck about my hair. I love falling asleep after a bath.
11:49pm
Eric: hah i know aht you mean, if you take a real hot bath, it will knock you out!
11:49pm
Caroline: Yes! that's what I want! It's so nice. You're toes get this weird peanut feeling.
AND I CAUGHT IT! I CAUGHT IT! I caught the very second where my pillow and comforter turned from cold and generic to comfy and cozy and warm. OR in other words when my body temperature adjusted. It was ground breaking. I promise. Look for it the next time you sleep. Especially if you've missed it for your past life time.
re-reading/finishing
I'm rereading/finishing my own books.
That's what I'm doing. Or at least trying to do.
Break your bad habits.
Empowering.
It really is.
The reason for this is that I FINALLY got my paws on a library card! Although the selection in the area is a joke.
Well. One step at a time.
I will quote something from my journal because a friend found it interesting and perhaps you will to.
"The next time I have sex I want it to be like Radiohead's House of Cards. I know, it's a stretch. Shut up." Then I drew a daisy.
Another thing I'm doing is writing down favorite things of the day.
For example today was "Reading and writing in the dark. Not getting carded to buy alcohol. And Radiohead." Obviously for the latter. I felt guilty reading back on the sex/radiohead combo. After all, I wrote it in church. Yeah yeah, mind in the gutter. It's okay. I'll live with it.
Goodnight.
That's what I'm doing. Or at least trying to do.
Break your bad habits.
Empowering.
It really is.
The reason for this is that I FINALLY got my paws on a library card! Although the selection in the area is a joke.
Well. One step at a time.
I will quote something from my journal because a friend found it interesting and perhaps you will to.
"The next time I have sex I want it to be like Radiohead's House of Cards. I know, it's a stretch. Shut up." Then I drew a daisy.
Another thing I'm doing is writing down favorite things of the day.
For example today was "Reading and writing in the dark. Not getting carded to buy alcohol. And Radiohead." Obviously for the latter. I felt guilty reading back on the sex/radiohead combo. After all, I wrote it in church. Yeah yeah, mind in the gutter. It's okay. I'll live with it.
Goodnight.
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