Month: October 2015

Can’t Help Falling In Love

I believe in love. Perhaps not love at first sight, perhaps not soul mates, but I believe that it is possible to fall deeply in love with another person, no matter how long you’ve known said person. I also believe that there are varying degrees of love: I love Garrett as a partner. I love Caitlin as a little sister. I love Grace as a best friend, practically a sister. I love Carver by default, because he is Garrett’s twin and no matter how annoying he can be, his emotions and actions affect my relationship- even if he doesn’t mean for them to.

It’s this that has been causing a lot of pain recently. I hate to throw Carver under the bus, but he and his girlfriend have been having issues and while I try to be compassionate, it’s frustrating to see Garrett so upset and so angry over something neither of us can control. I’m good friends with Sophie now, and I care for Carver as if he were my own brother (and he is just as obnoxious as mine), but their problems are affecting what little time I have with my boyfriend and it’s ANNOYING. When Garrett gets so pissed off that he breaks a pencil and cuts his hand, I can’t continue to stand back and let this carry on as it has.

Relationships are all or nothing for me, and this has caused me a lot of pain in the past. However, I don’t foresee this happening in the near future with Garrett, so I’m going to continue to worry about him and get angry when someone upsets him. Even if that someone is his brother and one of my good friends.

Sorry for ranting about people you probably don’t care about. Enjoy the video as retribution 🙂

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Love Harder

Three letters.

Three notes

So full of honesty

That I nearly choked on the strength of them

While I was pouring them

Onto those clean sheets of paper.

I love the number three;

I think I may have mentioned that,

At some point or another,

Though I can’t remember for sure.

Things have been like that a lot recently.

I keep finding that the little memories

Are slowly slipping away from me.

You’d think I would mind:

You’d think I’d object to losing

A second with you,

Even if the seconds I’m losing

Are ones already spent in your company.

I don’t, though.

I’ve found that I don’t care

If I forget some tiny details,

Because I remember the emotions.

I remember how it feels

To be curled up against your side,

Even if I can’t remember our conversation.

On top of that, I’m fine with replacing

The old memories with new ones-

Each sweeter than the last.

I’ve never been one of those people

Who puts everything into a relationship.

I’m always too afraid

To fall as hard as I’m ought to

Into arms that might not care

As much as they pretend to.

With you, though, with you

I can’t help but give up everything,

Can’t help but give you my entire being

And every mistake and heartbreak

That I’ve accumulated over the years-

As well as a lifetime of pent-up love

That now I bestow on you.

Hello

OUR ONE ACT PLAY ONE FIRST PLACE AT REGION!!!

Today was our competition: we performed at eight in the morning, on home stage, and at 3:30 were called up to receive our FIRST PLACE TROPHY. On top of that… I WAS THE RECIPIENT OF BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS!

Today has been fantastic.

We beat out four other schools, including our huge One Act nemesis (who will go unnamed less someone from that school chooses to harass me for kicking their asses). I’ve bawled my eyes out on two different occasions and almost puked right before we went on, but when you weigh that against the amazing oneness I felt with the rest of the cast when Logan got onto Allstars, I won BSA, Luke got Best Actor, and we WON…

New memory to add to the list of favorites: when the timekeeper called our nemesis for second place and we all gripped each other’s hands tighter and burst into tears because we knew, we knew, that we’d won first place.

We have a tradition of going to Applebees after our last musical performance in the spring, and whenever possible we also go after winning region, if we compete on home stage. It’s an absolute BLAST. We were all surfing on the high of our win and everyone felt so connected, and so incredibly overjoyed. Garrett and his twin, Carver, showed up and I got to spend one of the best nights of my life with my boyfriend. 🙂

AGH I still can’t process how amazing today was…

Alive

Wake up, get ready, go to school, do work, do work, do work, eat lunch, do work, do work, go to One Act practice, workworkworkworkworkworkworkworkworkworkwork, go home, do homework, take a shower, go to bed, repeat.

Oh, how I long for One Act to be over so I can relax and actually get some schoolwork done… God, you know you’re stressed when HOMEWORK seems like a reprieve.

Honestly, I just want a solid twelve hours of sleep. Twelve CONSECUTIVE hours of sleep.

Who’s with me?

Hush, Be Still

He wraps his warm arms

Around my shaking shoulders,

Sharing his heat with me

As we hide together

Under a quilt sewn

By someone long dead.

I can just make out

The bright glittering

Of his dark blue eyes,

Can barely see the curve of his lips

Just before they descend

Upon my creased brow.

“Hush,” he mutters,

“Hush, be still.

Horrors felt shall soon disperse

Amongst those who deserve

Our terror more than us.”

Unable to calm myself,

I curl closer to his chest

And let the steady rhythm

Of his thumping heart

Lull me into a fitful sleep

Made sweeter by his presence.

Settle Down

My parents, younger siblings and I went apple picking today, something we haven’t done in a while. Certainly not in three years; we haven’t gone and picked apples since we moved.

I’m typically a fairly predictable person: I don’t want to go outside, I don’t want to associate with anybody, I just want to stay in my bedroom and read/write/be generally antisocial. I enjoy my life as a hermit, thank you very much.

Apple picking, though, brings out a different Carissa. There are quite a few things that make me react as drastically as the pristine perfection of a nice, gritty apple plucked from a bowing tree, but few have the same nostalgic affect (effect? I don’t know…); I have more than a handful of bubbly, happy memories of reaching ever higher for that absolutely gorgeous red apple, biting into the crisp white flesh of an unwashed fruit, surrounded by towering trees that dwarf my small frame……

I must admit, though, that this time was a slight disappointment to those memories.

That’s not to say that the apples weren’t delicious, that I didn’t thoroughly enjoy myself. I did. However, the apple farm (is that what they’re called?) has become industrialized, marketed, whatever you want to call it, since the last time we visited. They rely on dumb tourists now, who want to watch pig races and milk cows and taste-test cider and ride ziplines and maybe pick a couple apples for the hell of it.

We went to pick apples because it’s fun to feel self-sufficient, to wash and polish those imperfect perfections rather than buying some waxed mess from the supermarket. I mean, it’s not as though we aren’t going to actually USE the apples; my mom plans on making apple cider, apple crisps, apple fritters, apple pies, apple juice… But this particular apple place (B.J. Reece Orchards, in Elijay) had only one tiny little portion of their orchard open, and the apples there were either too small to bother with, too high to pick, or splattered on the ground. Luckily, we managed to get a peck of half-decent apples, but the rest we just bought pre-packaged in their apple house.

Downsides to this trip: we drove a few hours to pick apples for about thirty minutes, they did not even have Granny Smith apples (at ALL!), and it was warm for October. And my siblings were extremely obnoxious in the car, which caused a headache and a bruise on my ribs.

Upsides to this trip: there were multiple, but most importantly: APPLE DONUTS. On top of that, we bought delicious apples, cold apple cider, raw peanuts (we make our own boiled peanuts now- yum!), an enormous cabbage, a trip into memory lane, and the realization that not every good experience ought to remain untainted by reality, because sometimes disappointment is liberating.

If the good is not quite as wonderful as we remember, is not everything better than it feels?

Save the Man

Darkness

Darkness so absolute

The sun strains to break free

Of the black bonds that hold it.

Darkness so complete,

So consuming,

We hide beneath our blankets

And hope we’ll be saved.

We won’t.

For who can save themselves

From a foe with no fears.

No regrets.

No sorrows.

A foe so indifferent

The evilest of men

Cowers in its sight.

A foe so disgusted by us,

The stain of humanity,

It picks us off

One.

By.

One.

The darkness slips into us,

Tainting our souls,

Creating monsters,

Shadows,

Black reflections of what we once were.

There’s something about darkness

That wears us to the bone,

Stripping away years

Of carefully constructed walls

And allowing the poison to seep in.

Seep into our dreams,

Our nightmares.

There’s something about darkness

That draws us in.

Who can save us from the evil?

And the burning

Of a soldier who just wasn’t quick enough;

Of a baby who just wasn’t ready.

The burning of past, present, and future:

Because somewhere, everywhere,

There’s always something burning.

Burning.

Drowning.

Drowning in a sea of iniquities.

Save the man

The man who told his ailing wife

That to die would not be such a terrible thing

If they were to do so together.

So that night,

Under the stars they danced to,

They do.

The next morning,

With the daylight dew;

Three bullets-

Two bodies-

One love.

Policed declared it suicide,

But those of us who know

(Who know the darkness)

We called it beautiful.

Should I Stay or Should I Go

We’re having a Sadie Hawkin’s dance on Halloween and I decided to be a gross sappy girlfriend and do a gross, sappy invitation for Garrett. I have been working for literally hours, but finally…

Picture0001 Picture0002

YAY!

I still have to write my words along the side and whatnot, but the worst is over. Now I think I’m going to go to bed before I decide to do anything else crazy. Or my hand falls off. (It really does hurt. I’m a perfectionist AND my colored pencils weren’t sharpened AND my sharpener was broken. Though admittedly I did take a break to watch X Men: Days of Future Past. Good movie, I’d recommend it for anybody.)

I hope that doesn’t constitute as complaining… oh well.

I’m still extremely proud of myself.

Willow

I’m one of THOSE people… you know, those writers who start writing a book then get discouraged and/or start a new story and give up on the first. At least THIS time I have a pretty good excuse: my mom got pissed off because I curse (a lot…) in Existentially Fraught and I’m forbidden from writing books with curse words. And since half of the story line in EF revolves around said cursing… -.-

Anyway, I’ve started a new book called Reliquit, about a girl who’s run away and meets this man who helps her accept her past, yada yada yada. (It’s not romance, I swear. She’s 16 and he’s like 24 or something- not entirely sure what age I’m going with for him as of yet.) I’m not sure where it’s going, but I like the beginning and I’m incorporating a few of my favorite things: Latin, guitars, cats named after ancient philosophers, and road trips.

That’s all I have to say. I just wanted to share.

Afterlife

OMIGOD GUYS I’M NOT GOING TO COMPLAIN RIGHT NOW BE PROUD OF ME!

Anyway, I just want to express how hard the reality of all this *waves hands noncommittally* hit me like half a minute ago.

I was looking at my blog’s stats and finally comprehended what the numbers were telling me: my first post was 22 days ago.

TWENTY-TWO DAYS.

Here are more numbers for you: 25 posts, 130 views, 67 visitors, THIRTY-TWO FOLLOWERS.

Now, I might be freaking out for no reason: for all I know, that’s pretty typical for blogs on WordPress. I’ve only ever used Blogspot before, and I didn’t get noticed AT ALL. I was just another blog in an enormous blogosphere (that’s a thing, right?)- and just a kid on top of that, which meant not a Mommy Blogger or Foodie Blogger or Video-Gamey Blogger or DIYie Blogger or any of the other “eeeee” bloggers that spent half their lives living and the other half editorializing that living.

Basically, I want to say thanks to all of you lovely people who read my awful poetry and put up with my endless complaining.

You’re why I keep posting 🙂

(Well, that and I have no life… but we’ll just nicely overlook that unfortunate fact for now.)