I just had a total mental breakdown that began with this photo. That goopy snot dripping, staccato breathing kind of sobbing consumed me. I found it in a folder of old pictures dating back to when I was born until about 6 years ago. I down-arrowed through 312 scanned photographs until every bit of nostalgia had oozed through the computer screen, into my brain, and dribbled out of my heart. As I absorbed every detail in every image, I felt the inner tape reel pick up right where it had left off when the shutter of the camera had clicked. The smells, the sounds, the feelings had all come rushing back in an instant.
These feelings scare me. Right now these pictures are alive because I re-live them, but when I’m gone, those memories die with me, and all that’s left are pixels on a screen. Isn’t that incredible to anyone else? Pixels! Dots of color arranged in a certain pattern, that when looked upon from a distance, portray a moment in time, a piece of history, a fraction of my life. But once I’m gone, they dissolve back into meaningless color dots, made of atoms and nuclei. And that scares me and I’m not okay with that, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
Times like these a quote from the tv show, Mad Men, plays over in my mind: ”Nostalgia - it’s delicate, but potent. Teddy told me that in Greek, “nostalgia” literally means “the pain from an old wound.” It’s a twinge in your heart far more powerful than memory alone. This device isn’t a spaceship, it’s a time machine. It goes backwards, and forwards… it takes us to a place where we ache to go again. It’s not called the wheel, it’s called the carousel. It lets us travel the way a child travels - around and around, and back home again, to a place where we know are loved.”
a chance at a breathtaking piece of folly
the real me, unedited.Just Every So Often
The way the light is hitting my window and cascading down onto my floor, and the way the cool air is prickling my skin, and the way the faint smell of autumn wafts past me—it all reminds me of him.
Suddenly I’m not in my bedroom at my mother’s. Suddenly I’m not 24 and skinny. Suddenly I’m not alone. I’m in his bedroom at his parents, I’m 20 and plump, I’m wrapped in his sleeping arms, and I’m happy.
These days my mind has stopped placing me in such derisively taunting nostalgia-wrapped thoughts. It’s realized that I can no longer function down that rabbit hole, and it has remained reluctantly dormant.
But once in a while—just every so often—my mind gets restless living in my current life, and needs to stir up trouble. So here I am, pushing the covers off the bed that I purchased, glancing at a good-morning text from the current boyfriend, turning off my alarm for the gym, and then—just ignoring it all and falling into the rabbit hole instead. All these things are symbols of my New Good Life: good job to purchase nice things, good man to say nice things to me, good body to look nice. But once in a while—just ever so often—I’d give it all up to be 20, broke, plump, and in his sleeping arms again.
Alice Ozma and Eva
I don’t know what made me do it, exactly. Perhaps I was just one degree too cold, or the 12 page index I was designing started swimming around mockingly on the screen, or maybe the picture of my grandfather in his wheelchair made me rethink my 8 hour stint glued to my own office chair.
It could have been any or none of those things, but before I knew It, I had grabbed my purse and keys and found myself in the driver’s seat of my Civic. I let the heat drill into my chilled slightly-goosebumped skin, and the silence of my car fill me with peace.
I pulled out my nook and read about 6 pages, just enough for a short vignette from The Reading Promise. It was a glorious escape and I returned rejuvenated and ready to attack the rest of my day.
I think if we get too wrapped up in the routine of our life we forget to step back and enjoy the little things. Even if it is just reading a few pages of a great book in a stifling hot car.
Top Ten Favorite “Why Do I Have a Blog” Quotes
10. “Doing laundry” in 2012 just means dropping things into machines that do all the work and it’s still overwhelming to me.
9. “I can’t believe I’m just allowed to walk around with these ovaries and a functioning uterus.”
8. So I tried lying to myself by looking in the mirror and saying “this is really fun and I’m glad it’s happening to me.”
7. It’s just as creepy as it sounds and I’m not going to try to make it sound any better.
6. “I jerked off to your pics so many times that my hand fell off. Now I’m on welfare.”
“That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
5. Michael Fassbender grinned, nakedly. “I killed all of the bugs for you, Caragh. All of the bugs are gone now.”
4. If you’re not asleep within 15 minutes smoke marijuana or masturbate. Or smoke marijuana and masturbate. Whatever. No one will know. EXCEPT GOD who is watching your sinful sleepy ways always.
3. I think if I was in the same room as Michael Fassbender my ovaries would probably fall out of my vagina and bounce like basketballs across the floor and attach themselves to his square and manly jaw, so it’s probably a good thing that we don’t run in the same social circle.
2. Fuck off clamstrip!! (technically not said by Caragh, but the entire post made me die laughing)
1. I think someday this will all be gone, like it never happened, and I don’t know how to get over that.
This moment just broke my heart. Don and Peggy just stood there for what seemed like hours, caught in an invisible rush of nostalgia. It’s easily apparent how deeply affected Don was by Peggy’s news, as we see him in a very rare moment of emotion and (dare I say) weakness.
This entire episode pulled at my heartstrings in other scenes, also, as we see Stanley Cooper Draper Price (Harris?) moving into the most questionable realm of morality yet—and that’s saying something.
I’m Alive
I didn’t even realize I had an inbox message until tonight. How long has it been there? I haven’t put the effort into this blog that I once took such pride and care in, so I don’t even check it every day. And I rarely get messages…But thank you for your kind words and acknowledgement of my title :)
I realize the last few posts have been quite depressing, but in reality those are just passing moments of distress. Unfortunately I don’t feel the overwhelming need to expel my positive thoughts into a blog as I do when negative ones come ‘round.
I’ve just received my master’s and continue to have a steady job and my mother is recovering and I’ve even made love. The last few weeks have been emotional, confusing, exciting, disappointing, and relieving. And I wouldn’t have my life any other way. I feel privileged to have the pleasure of experiencing so many different sensations, because in the end, that means I’m alive.
And I’ll take that over anything.
Always living my damn life for everyone else. Can I just do what IIIIII want?
I’m slipping away
I was doing so well, so positive, so forward. I have a good job, good friends, good family. The only thing I was missing was that last piece of the puzzle: a boyfriend. I know it sounds superficial and all that, but honestly, it’s time. I’ve been single for two years now. Previously, I had been in relationships for 6 years straight. Now I’m sick of it. I’m sick of everything about being single. I decided to change that. I went after someone I was interested in, he reciprocated interest, I was on Cloud Nine. What do I find out? He’s got a girlfriend. Jesus Christ, can I catch a break?? I lay low, thinking “don’t look for love, it will find you.” I focus on me, thinking “if you love yourself and create your own happiness, love will find you.” I say fuck it, and make a move myself thinking “shit, you have to make your own fate, don’t rely on the universe.” Welp, none of that helped. I’m still where I was. Why? Why do some people have men crawling after them? Why is it me that watches everyone else? What am I doing wrong? I lost weight, got healthy, became positive, worked hard, and still nothing. While other people just exist, and have men flock to them. Must. Be. Nice.
This endeavor I set out on last weekend to finally make my own destiny with a man ended up failing, and now I’m just spent. I’m tired of being alone. I’m tired of it! I’m worthy, damnit. I’m worthy of someone wanting to be with me, wanting to touch me and love me. Jesus I sound like a desperate high school bimbo. I don’t care. And when things can’t get any lower, HE asks for naked pictures. Great, make me feel even shittier. “You’re not good enough for a friendship or a relationship, just for me to jerk off to your tits”
I don’t know what to do anymore. I have no drive no motivation nothing. I honestly am just slipping away I just can’t.
Well, it seems to me that the best relationships - the ones that last - are frequently the ones that are rooted in friendship. You know, one day you look at the person and you see something more than you did the night before. Like a switch has been flicked somewhere. And the person who was just a friend is… suddenly the only person you can ever imagine yourself with.
Gillian Anderson (via foxlad)
Storge – an affectionate love that slowly develops from friendship, based on similarity
(via itsinthestars)
(via itsinthestars)
These 29 minutes are more important than tonight’s episode of Your Favorite Show.
These 29 minutes are more important than stalking your ex’s Facebook.
These 29 minutes are more important than Snooki’s front page article in the tabloid.
Turn yourself off from your social life, and live 29 minutes in real life.
(via thekampage)
