oh lately it's so quiet.

for part of yesterday, and so far, this morning... i've been feeling a bit more re-energized with myself, my outlook, and my need to sing loudly in my car. i'm not really sure what it is.

yesterday, we started our new system at work. which means, i get to wear an apron. yes. and it is wonderful. yes. who knew that something so small would give you such a boost like that. ah...

today, i have my pottery class, because on thursday, we're going to philly. not sure how it's going to go. but hopefully i'll get to talk with my classmates today about it.

also, read othello last night for class. ohmygoodness. so many emotions. we're discussing it today, i have no idea what to say... it was just BOOOOOOOM!

i don't know how much longer i can stand this... coming home every night without any recognition of human existence. with no compassion.

completely exhausted, and crying into my pillow because my life isn't where i want it. my relationships aren't what i want them to be. my outlook isn't where i should be.

this isn't living. this isn't existing.

i can't pretend to be alive anymore.

worries.

i was listening to talk radio the other day, which is either one of the best inventions, or the worst. there's all of this talk going on about tiger woods, and jesse james. pretty much, the story is that these married men, decided to have numerous affairs outside of their marriages. the radio host's theory was that men, are better at compartmentalizing things, than women are. so they can have their married life, where they are head over heals in love with their wife. and also, have these affairs that are -in their mind- not "affairs" but instead, encounters that are completely separate. sort of like how men are better at solving problems because they can look on things rationally, instead of putting their emotions into it, the way that women do. my first immediate reaction, was, we better not let men get a hold of this information, because then that will be the excuse for everything. oh honey, it doesn't effect my relationship with you at all, because i love you, that other thing wasn't in any way connected. it's just how i compartmentalize things sweetie. you're the one for me. (the ONE for me)

is this what our men have come to? that it's completely impossible to have a relationship without infidelity? false. because it's happened. relationships have survived without extramarital businesses. so apparently it's possible. just not for the man of today? no?

this absolutely terrifies me. like this is a warning of my future. i'm going to wake up 30 years from now, finding out that my husband has been having affairs, and i'm going to confront him. and he's going to laugh and say, but babe, it's just separate. and walk away while i'm having a mental break down.

it's not okay to give ourselves excuses to behave badly. it's not okay to say, well, i can sleep with her, because it doesn't mean anything. it's not okay to make someone trust you, and then abuse it. and what i'm worried about, is that for the past couple thousand years, all we've been doing, is finding the loopholes, and getting away with murder.

handcuffs.

i have great respect for houdini. even more so, now that i have watched the history channel special on him. apparently, after his mother died, houdini became really anti-spiritualism. (as in, calling up the dead...) he felt like the mediums were taking advantage of the individual's loss and using the tricks to completely deceive them. and of course houdini is the master trickster, so he very quickly was able to recognize and pick them apart. he had this whole campaign against the mediums, and would trap them. and expose them as frauds. which is really quite amazing. and he knew that when he died people would try to bring him back, so he made this code with his wife, and said. if you are able to do this, this is what i will say, and if i don't, you know it's fake. which i thought was -strange, definitely, but it shows some very specific planning and insight on his part. anyways. thought that was interesting....

shakespeare.

the first day of my literature class, at least the first one that i attended, my professor explained to us that we were going to have to recite a poem. after dreading the day these were due for the past month or two, it finally came. today was the day. there were four choices. of those, i picked shakespeare, and memorized it last night. today, i was thinking, wouldn't it suck to go first. because then that person would be stuck sitting in the class, listening to the 25 other people try to get as many points as they could... so i was reciting this in my head, the whole morning. finally got to class. sat down. and my professor was lecturing us for about 20 minutes (which is just the perfect amount of time for one to stress out in anticipation of future embarrassment) then he slowly walked to the back of the room, "and the first person is.... Carly" really? gah! and BOOOM! I started freaking out. and i walked up there, and it took me a while to remember my first word. and then it took me a while to remember my second line. and then it the third, and fourth... i stumbled through the whole thing. i didn't mess up, i was just slow. so i ended up getting full credit. but it was a rough ride. and then... right when i sat down, the whole sonnet went right through my head no problem. no errors. face palm. yarg. and i had to listen to everyone else. say their poem. :/ sigh. oh well. it's over, i'm done. and now...... yay nap.

saturday night fever.

uhm. okay.

just watched -kind of- (i read the summary) and saw some parts of the beginning and middle. and honestly. i'm not that impressed. i don't get what all of the hubbub is about. it wasn't a very good movie.

oh my goodness.

kitchen nightmares.

so much drama

so much -i can't take my eyes off this-

really?

i have, a dentist phobia. he has "fixed" this tooth, two times

before, and yet still, there is a problem? when you fix it, it's

not supposed to be broken. that's how that works... but it's

not okay for me to say that maybe he's not doing it right?

no? it's not okay for me to say that maybe he missed

something? that's not okay?

get off your effing high horse.

Who does your dishes when you wake up in the morning. You’re too busy to rinse out your mess. Or when you get home and are too tired to notice the pile. You say you’re working on important things. You’re inspired. Sometimes you’re tired… other times you just don’t want to get your hands dirty. Who will do your dishes when you’re out of town. Or when aunts come to visit and eat lasagna on your porcelain… or after that late night stress binge. Or all of those containers you used when you had the urge for pancakes?

ah. spring.

this is the time of flip-flops and short skirts, light jackets, and picnics. also, after sporadically shaving my legs over winter, we are back to the once a week routine. bleh. so in order to take advantage of this lovely ritual. i am planning on wearing a skirt tomorrow. but then the weather was all -i'mma electrocute your hopes and dreams- and i was all, oh no she diniinnt.

my morning, was really gross today. i woke up tired, and went to my class. where i forgot to do the reading assignment, and was freaking out that i would have to fail my quiz. but, luckily, my professor just decided to yell at us the whole time. and get angry because we do not measure up to his standards. see, i would normally, just shrug this off, and accept that he is really looking out for our best interests. but... okay starting from the beginning. i go into the class, and he hands out our multiple choice part of the exam. and then proceeds to go over every question, and comment. i am very annoyed. then he gives us our essay final. that has our extra credit question in it. while we were taking our multiple choice exam, he gave us this sheet for extra credit, and called us all up to the front to answer the questions about an object. the object was an indulgence. and we were supposed to answer questions like, what is it, when was it given and why, did he have to pay for it blah blah blah. and apparently there were only two people who got all 5 questions right. i got 4 because i didn't bother to answer the what is its purpose question because it didn't specify if it was talking about past or present... but my professor started yelling at us about how we weren't very good students if we couldn't take the 5 easy points that he was giving us. and then he started yelling at us about our essays. the previous class, he gave us the five possible essay questions. he told us that there would be three on the test, and we would have to pick one. so today, he got angry that people chose the easy question -myself included. telling us how you never want to answer the easy question, you want to answer the hard question. and then decided that it would be a good idea to insult our opinions of school. that this wasn't high school, and that we needed to step up to the plate, and have standards. we need to accept responsibility for our academics. and then went on the if you want to get good grades, you need to do this this this, and this. if you want to pass this class, you need to read the book. you need to study lecture. which is all fine and good. the first 30 times he gave it to us... i understand that people learn by repetition, but really? do you just forget that you tell us these things? i've heard all of his lectures at least 5 times. he just kept going on and on and on, and getting louder and louder, and way more offensive. and then this quiet girl tried to ask him a question, she tried to confront him, because he basically was calling all of us ignorant. she told him that she felt like he was attacking her personally because she answered the easy question, and she got a c. and he basically ripped her head off, screaming and yelling all the more. i was really upset... he kept telling us how this was college, not 13th grade. really? this is bcc. this is where you go, when you don't have enough money to go anywhere else, this is a stepping stone... not the real deal. this isn't 13th grade? no? then why do you keep holding my hand? why do you keep telling me the same information over and over again? why do you give me EXTRA CREDIT? why did you give me the essay question before my test? hmm? because if you really wanted to make sure that i was learning, wouldn't you restrict the amount of help that you're giving me? honestly, all i'm doing is regurgitating the information that you force feed me, and i'm passing your class right? why do i need to try? why should i try if you're handing me my grade? if your standards are SO HIGH why are you working at a community college? are we burdening you by paying to take your class? hmm? this is comparative religion! this is a class you take to get more credits! i seriously doubt that if someone goes into an interview and they're checking the classes, they're going to be like, "oh no, i'm sorry... we can't hire you, because you didn't take comparative religion. sorry.... you fail at life"

i answered the easy question, i got a c. i'm not really too ripped up about it. i know full and well what kind of student i am, where i stand with my grades. i don't really have the motivation to do anything else. and i'm sorry if that's difficult to understand. do i deserve to be yelled at? no. did i deserve a c? no. i may not be the best writer, but i answered the question, all parts of it. he took off a whole letter because i didn't elaborate on one specific sentence. i can understand a few points. but a whole letter? he took off another letter because i had the word "undetermined" in place of a phrase he thought was more expressive. and a point or two for various other unspecified reasons. tell me that's fair.

do you know what really grinds my gears? my professors will start talking, and they'll say one of those phrases with the curse word in there. like "what the hell?" or "oh shit" or you know... whatever. but instead of being honest about cursing in the classroom, they whisper it. because somehow that makes it waaay less obvious.

milestone.

last night, i had a conversation with my father, that wasn't terrible. it should be noted. this is the first time, in a long time that we have actually talked. he didn't yell at me. or belittle me. or anything like that. it was an actual conversation. and he only monopolized it a little bit. but i actually felt like he was a person.

in other news. i think i may have found my calling.

in other other news. i completely broke down at work today... i didn't get to bed last night until around 2. and i woke up at 7, so i was feeling pretty tired to begin with. the whole shift, i was sluggish, and trying not to interact with the people more than i needed to. i didn't want to look angry or upset, and have them get the wrong impression. but, i was walking around, and i just got this huge overwhelming feeling of emptiness. of this terrible feeling of loneliness and abandonment. i couldn't handle it. i had to take a few minutes to collect myself. and then peter called, and it all came out. it was a 2 second conversation. but i couldn't stop. and then. it was gone. just like that. and i'm fine. not exactly the most sociable person at the moment. but, i think i'll be okay.

it's here

it's here, and i've been waiting for the past 3 weeks. it would have been here yesterday but no one was here to answer the door. i've been up for the past 3 hours. and i'm panicking. because i just want it. it's so silly. soon. it will be here.

my sister's birthday was on tuesday. we had to celebrate on monday night because mom and i were both working tuesday. birthday's aren't really a big deal in my family. if we don't forget. we don't really bother to remember. my mom does this thing where she'll offer to cook a meal, whatever you want to eat. and a cake. (sometimes it's just the cake) but then she'll complain about how much you're making her do. and if you don't say how much you love it, if you don't tell her how good it is, she'll whine. and she'll be sluggish when it comes to the next thing that you ask her to do. (she's really good at making you feel guilty) my sister has four birds. she's had them since she was in kindergarten. they were especially for her. because my brother and i had the cats. monday morning when she woke up, one of them was dead. so of course the whole day was trash. that night, we had her dinner. and my dad was late. because he had forgotten to get her presents. so he went out to get her two barbies. except he didn't tell anyone that he was going to be late. so we had the dinner ready for 5:30, when he gets home. he didn't get home until 7:20. we were just waiting around for him. and when he got there, he was in one of these really abrasive moods. pushing everything in everyone's faces. before we cut the cake, he had a phone call. he left and talked on the phone while we were about to cut her birthday cake. he missed it.

There's this place near where i work, and it's called Artrageous Creations. it's a studio where you go, and buy one of the ceramic pieces they have available, and you paint it. their studio is yellow and covered in flowers, and all of these plates and cups and statues. there are just so many different things. it's adorable. yesterday, i wrote my sister a note, and told her that i had a surprise for her. i picked her up early from school, and drove her down. i kept telling her there was a surprise, and i wasn't going to tell her. when we finally got there, she got to look at all of the things, and i told her she could pick whatever she wanted. anything. she picked this cute winged fairy sitting on a stone. (i picked a holey sushi bowl. it's the one with the hole for the chopsticks. it's adorable) and we got to go over to the paint station, and pick as many different colors as we wanted. she got reds and browns. there were these paints, that had these specks in them, and when they fire it, they kind of explode, so you end up with this beautiful rich color with these speckles... i got a deep reddish maroon color, and a powder blue. and then a dark blue for my elephant. and we sat down. and got to paint. it was so much fun. we were just sitting at this adorable table. talking and painting these pieces. after we left, i told her we could go wherever she wanted to eat. (i wanted to take her to one of those cute sit down places. nothing fancy, but just have the two of us sit down, and order off the menu.) but she was telling me that she doesn't like to eat at sit down restaurants because then everyone can see her eating, and it makes her feel gross. so we went to mcdonalds. through the drive through. she got a happy meal. and we both got shamrock shakes. (my first time ever having one. they're amazing)

and we came home....

she seemed really excited. i really wanted to make it up to her. she's 10. how awful would it be if she looked back on this as the shitty birthday.

we pick up our pieces next wednesday. we're both freaking out :)

que?

whenever people ask me who i am. my first instinct is to say, "carly". that is who i am. but that isn't really what they mean. right? they want to know what i am. that's harder to answer...

trained

i was taught to think of sex, as something dirty. as a sin. as something that, if i ever did, or if i ever wanted to do, god would strike me down. dead. one of the things that we don't realize as we get older, is how literally we used to take things when we were younger. for a time, we don't know how to reason, or now to question. we know that what mommy says is right, is right. and what she says is wrong, is wrong. and that is our whole world.

my parents used to refer to sex as "special loving" they used this phrase because one day our guinea pigs started to get a little frisky, and my brother and i of course had to ask. to their credit, we were young, and they probably thought it was a little too early to explain things to us. (although that kind of thinking never stopped them from explaining anything else to me. but, whatever.) i have come to hate this terminology. and i really wish that they hadn't used it to symbolize sex. because love is supposed to be a pretty great thing in and of itself. your parents are supposed to love you, and that is always supposed to fix everything. when a child has no knowledge of sex, and you throw this foreign term at them, they don't think about sex, they think you're telling them that you love mommy or daddy more than you love them.

i was used to feeling like my mother loved other things more than me. you spend your time focusing on what you love. i don't remember my mother ever playing with me. she would send me to my room, or ignore me while i played in the living room. mommy why are you watching those soaps. mommy why are you watching football. mommy why are you going to work. and yet i idolized her. i would go to her closet and wear her shoes, and try to walk down the stairs to show her. i always fell.

i have a fairly strong moral compass. now. i didn't always. when i was younger, i used to get in trouble a lot. because i didn't understand why things were "wrong" or why i wasn't "supposed" to do this, or that. things didn't stick for me. when we moved to tennessee my dad started getting more and more stressed out. i think i've told this story before, but no matter. my parents didn't think it was necessary to tell me a specific age that i would be allowed to have a boyfriend, or that i could date, or start to like boys. they never said anything like that. and so, at the ripe age of 9, when i decided that i was ready to have my first kiss, i didn't think anything of it. but when they found out, all of the sudden, i was supposed to have magically known that was unacceptable. my dad was so angry. he sat me down in my room. (i started escaping to my room when i got to stressed out, so it doesn't surprise me that he would violate my sanctuary, and just be stationary in a place that was safe for me. so i couldn't escape, and i had to talk to him. and even when he left, i would feel like my room was against me. maybe he didn't do it on purpose, but it felt like it) he yelled at me about his mother, and about all of these other women who had gotten pregnant, and who were all over the place with their man-lovers. my dad doesn't really yell, but he gets really loud. and he was just getting louder and louder, making sure that i knew it was wrong. it was wrong wrong wrong.

if you keep going like this, by the time you're 13, you're going to be a slut. you're going to be all over the place with so many different boys, and no one is going to want you. and there's a chance you could get pregnant. and if you get pregnant, there is no way you are allowed to come and live, in my house. if you think you're old enough to have sex, i think you're old enough to think about finding a new place to live.

no one is going to want you. i am not going to want you. god won't want you. i was 9. all they had to do, was tell me they didn't want me to kiss anyone. set an age limit. you're not allowed to date until you're 17. or something like that. but it was like, i found this box by accident one day, and when i decided to open it, it exploded.

i thought this was normal. and everyone knew that you weren't supposed to have sex. when i would find out that people i knew had started, it would completely change my opinion of them. i was disgusted with young married couples who were pregnant. because in order to get pregnant. you need to have sex. and sex isn't okay even if you're married.

this was how i thought. all the time. even up until my senior year. i hated talking about sex with pastor dave in leadership bible, because he's a pastor. pastors aren't allowed to talk about sex. and i kept getting so angry with myself, because i couldn't understand why i hated it this much. why i was so uncomfortable with this concept. there's nothing wrong with it. and when i started becoming aware of why i was like this, why i was this person, i was so disgusted with myself. so angry, and ashamed.

it's been a year, and i still haven't completely gotten over it. it's kind of an interesting thing to have to re-learn. sex is not synonymous with sin.

melt my heart to stone

"and i hear your words that i made up, you say my name like there could be an us. i best tidy up my head i'm the only one, in love. i'm the only one in love." (melt my heart to stone by adele, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1eT4jCoWI4A this part starts at 0:56.)

i can't remember the actual month that we went, but around the end of my senior year we took a trip to the art museums in DC. there were so many things that struck me at the time, like how much the louise bourgeois exhibit impacted me. that was where i got my first taste of dubuffet and fell head over heels. even before i saw the sculptures. there was also this one piece that i found really quite fascinating. but i forgot to get the name of the artist. the other day, i found a picture of a piece that i was 100% sure was his. his name is Ron Mueck. and he makes these sculptures of people. they're huge, but perfectly proportioned, and they're rather magnificent. not just because they look real, but because they are real. he pays so much attention to detail. not only in features and textures... but the actual surface looks like skin. he must have put so many layers on them. there are all of these veins and pores, the skin isn't just a solid color. there are gradations in value. and it's kind of unbelievable that he would be able to master it. it kind of just makes me wonder what happened to him, to make him work on things so meticulously, so passionately.

i guess that's really all i have for tonight.

cleaning bug

i keep trying to clean my room. but everything is already clean. there isn't anything left to rearrange, or put back in it's place... or hang up, or put in the hamper, or pack. or dust. i've done everything already. i kind of want to mess something up so i can fix it. literally, not figuratively. so i guess really, all i need to do is brush my teeth and go to bed... but

gah. i want to clean.

smidgen.

sometimes i forget how to do things. like how to hold a piece of paper with my left hand. or how to put my foot on the brake peddle. or how to drink something. or how to blink.

and don't laugh okay? because it's true. it happens to me all the time. like an epidemic. and when it does i have to concentrate really hard on how to remember. but for a few seconds i'm going really slow. sometimes it helps to try with the opposite side. like picking up something with my right hand and then mimicking with my left.

i dropped a glass today. and i dropped one last night. last night i was really upset with a few of my co-workers, because i didn't feel like they were doing their job. raman and i were running around doing everything and the other one's just kind of stood around and twiddled their thumbs. so i was in the back trying to dry the ice cream bowls. and i was fuming. i was really upset, because it was busy. and time was taking forever to pass, and i kept feeling like they were belittling me. and i just, i guess i didn't understand. and i was getting stuck in this awful train of thought and it just slipped out of my hand. and i freaked out. i jumped, and i covered my face, and i just stood there. i was so ashamed. and then i remembered how to move, and i went to go get the broom but my boss was like, no let someone else do it, because it will go through your shoes. i kept trying to do something because there was so much, and no one was doing anything, and i was freaking out, there were so many times when i was seconds away from breaking down.

but i don't know why i broke one today... it just fell out of my hands, and i kept trying to catch it. but it was going in slow motion, and i was moving too fast. and then it just hit. and it broke. but i cleaned it up, and i moved on.

recently

i've been around all of these strangers. all of these unfamiliar faces. and i can't help but think of them in some of their most intimate moments. i'm not really sure why... just the dumbest stuff. like meeting the love of their life, or learning that their grandfather has cancer, or finding out that their child has a disease. or going to the bathroom, or making dinner for their significant other on valentines day. even having sex.... and i try to shake these thoughts out of my head, but they just pop in, uninvited... and i have to get myself to think of other things. and every time, i feel like i'm stealing a piece of their life that i was never meant to see.

there are many things about the jewish faith that i find interesting

especially the idea that when people die, they are okay with saying

"i don't know what's happening to them, but i'll find out one day"

there isn't this urgency to figure out if their loved one is in heaven

or hell, or if they're just sleeping, or what have you.

which is something that i find extremely contrasting with the

adventist point of view - which is the one that i have had the most

experience around.

there seems to be this trend going on, in the sda circles, or this

need, to know everything. we know how to explain this verse to you

or we know what this means, or we can tell you if this person is the

spawn of satan, or we can tell you if your great grandfather's cousin who

immigrated from austria, is going to be in heaven based on a half true

account of his life, and the paper he signed when he got off the boat

we can tell you this. because we know.

i grew up in a house with people who were smarter than me. my

dad still believes he has the key to the universe. my brother refuses

to accept any opinion but his own, my sister only sees in black and

white, and my mother is too tired to say much of anything. there have

been so many pointless arguments between us, just because

we haven't figured out how to say, "you're right" or, "i can see where

you're coming from" i used to get so frustrated with them, until

i realized that i started doing the same thing. who am i to judge?

i stopped asking my dad questions when i realized that he would

just make me feel dumb. people stopped asking me questions when

they realized that i would try to make them feel dumb. i'm trying to

learn. honestly... but can i blame them for this part of myself?

there was this attitude that WE are perfect, and everyone else

just doesn't realize it yet.

there was the same attitude towards the church. my dad has not

had too much luck with teaching. because he likes to ruffle feathers

he likes to make sure the people know how smart he is. so when

he starts belittling the people in higher positions, they get angry.

and we end up moving. we moved when i was 7, because he would

have gotten fired if we stayed. we moved when i was 8 because he

couldn't even last a year in a different school. we moved when i was

11 because he decided that he wanted to pick on his boss's son.

he got fired when i was 13 because he had to make the pastor angry in

march (the pastor was planning on leaving in august). he didn't get tenure

when i was 16. and then he stopped teaching. i never once heard him say

"this is my fault" no. it was always the churches fault. how is that

supposed to affect the children? i went to sabbath school with the

idea that my friends were out to get me. i think, that if there was something

like this, with a pattern... at some point you're going to need to say,

i'm wrong. this isn't my calling.

my family will pick on my sister, because she's young, she's arrogant,

and because she doesn't know how to ask them to stop without being

in their faces (which of course eggs them on, especially my brother)

at first it's all fun and games, but then she starts taking it seriously

and when it's all said and done, she ends up crying her eyes out,

and locking herself in her room. i remember doing the same thing.

she's going to look back on this when she gets older, and say that

the family tortured her. and they're going to look right back at her

and say it's her fault.

i reject people who say they have answers. i reject religions that

say they can solve my questions, my problems. that they can

turn my life around. i reject people who seem to think that i need

their input in places i didn't ask them to look. i reject arrogance.

sometimes, it's not about the answer. i want the freedom to

have my question. i want to know that there are some things that

just can't be answered. i want to believe in something that

i don't quite understand. i refuse to accept that life is some giant math

problem, and i just need the right formula.

:{D

i've been trying to get nathanael to grow a mustache ever since i can remember. and so this is a letter i wrote to him. that he can fold over, and put right under his nose :{D hahahaha. i'm so excited!