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the arctic hotel

22 Aug

“static silhouette somehow.”

– “Rome”- Phoenix

I am currently sitting in a room with textured white walls, boring paintings of roses in vases and outdated 90’s light fixtures. You guessed it; I’m in a hotel room. My mother has blasted the air conditioning to the “Alaska” setting, because Ohio weather does this weird thing where it stays hot at night. As this rather scatterbrained and unclear intro may have indicated, I am not home in my bedroom with the slight slant, surrounded by a wall of mountains in cold Upstate New York. I have traveled down to the flat (yes, the rumors are true. It’s flat, but then again, I live in a mountainous state) and warm, if a little stuffy, state of Ohio.

My parents and I hopped in the car and drove the seven hours to visit family and look at colleges for me. We just got back from having dinner at my father’s cousin’s house, and it was one of the most relaxing and laid back evenings I’ve ever had at a distant relative’s house. They spoiled us with yummy appetizers and sandwiches, and there were kids running around and everyone was just interesting and lively and down-to-earth. Once sufficiently full, we caught up about our respective crazy family members, i.e, my favorite uncle and favorite uncle’s crazy ex-wife. I was thrilled to see these people, and even more thrilled to hear that when they last saw me, at age 10 (blonde and blue-eyed), I was writing. I thought my writing phase began much later, and when I was told that I had been writing since then, even if it was just rhymes and stories about haunted houses… I don’t know. I feel like it renewed my faith in myself and my writing. I’m not going to keep exhausting myself with the “I’m a WRITER, I need to WRITE all the time” mantra.

Whoops, little rambly again, but you must be used to that by now. I lied on twitter, saying there was no blog today, I am working DILIGENTLY on a blog that will be well-written (in my opinion, and hopefully others’) and read through by several other people, considering the piece is rather… delicate. I am expressing an opinion I don’t think many will agree with, nor support, and I really hope that the negativity in the entry doesn’t cost me any friends. And if you would like to read it and give constructive criticism, or even your straight up opinion, say so in the comments or reply to me on twitter. I’m off to read The Hunger Games because it’s positively brilliant.



Here’s a short cheesy story.

“Something is wrong with me,” she said softly, her voice calculating and her eyes dull. Blonde hair swinging in her face as the fire crackled and cast a warm glow over her tanned skin.

“What?” I asked, trying for the life of me to figure out what could possibly be wrong with her.

“I’m hurting. It feels like my entire body hurts like it’s burning, as if fire is pulsing through my veins. I feel like I’m being electrocuted over and over, like sparks are flying everywhere. It’s as if I’m alive and the only reason I feel it is because I’m in pain.” Her shoulders were lit a hazy brown-orange, the yellow lace strap of her tank top tangled in the mess of her long locks, turned golden and shimmery in the light of the fire.

“It’s the drugs, Sara,” I said, taking a long drag from my cigarette. “You’ll feel normal once you sleep it off.”

“But I don’t want to sleep it off,” she said, standing up. Her legs were dirty from sitting on the grass and there were goosebumps scattered across her skin. “I want to feel this pain forever… because it makes me think that if I hurt this much, nothing can ever hurt me like it again.”

“Things will always hurt you, Sara. No matter how much pain you’ve felt, things will always end up hurting you.” She came over to me and sat down close, and we were almost touching.

“You see, it’s not painful, really. It’s just a nagging ache that feels good. Like… like I’m stretching in the morning after the perfect sleep. You know?” She said, her eyelids were dropping down, the high was obviously setting in. I laughed.

“You’re so baked.”

“Mhm. But… this is the best feeling ever! Michael, I… I want to feel this way forever.”

“You’re going to go broke buying that much weed, babe.”

“Michael!” she said, but she whined my name in that way of hers.

“What?! I’m just saying, this is nothing but a high. No good feeling is free my dear. A fact of life, a fact I want you to learn.”
She looked at me, I knew because I saw her hair fall off her shoulder and I could smell her perfume and shampoo hit me with the faint smell of smoke from the fire and cigarettes. I looked at her, her brown eyes were glossy and had spider-web like crimson lines, the faint freckles across her nose were a little more obvious and her small, young face looked at me with an expression I had never seen before. She was serious, in her own Sara-way, but she looked older, and I realized now she’d caught up to me. We were on the same page, and staring down the same road. The fire popped and smoke came at us. I put my cigarette out, any excuse to look away, and I felt her hand rest on my leg. 
Her hand crept up to my own, and she slowly and gently laced her fingers through mine. Her hand was lightly there, not pressing into me, not squeezing my hand. I squeezed her hand tighter, letting my warmth flow through her and then she leaned her head on my shoulder. She shifted over closer to me, pressing into me, our body heat flowing through each other and I felt the pain, the ache, the burning fire that she felt. It seemed as if hours, days, weeks had passed since I spoke, but it was only seconds. Sara sighed and looked at me, then she smiled slightly. Her dark pink lips parted slightly, as flames dancing around, their silhouettes shimmying across her cheeks.

“Michael,” she whispered, and my name had never sounded so good. “you’ve taught me a lot, but this feeling is freer than anything.”

“How so?”

“This ache… I love it. My heart seems like it beats a hundred times faster, my mind won’t stop turning… you know what that feeling is? I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

“It’s love.” I said, without even thinking, and I knew I couldn’t take it back. I squeezed her hand tighter, hoping she wouldn’t let go. She smiled again, and turned to look at me.

“Why are you always right?”

“Because I am.” And then she kissed me.


hating fictional characters and journaling

7 May

“An old fairytale told me
the simple heart will be prized again.”

“The Frog Prince” by Keane

I know that it has been a LONG time since I have last blogged, and I have absolutely no excuse for that. I could say it was because I was busy, my dog drooled on my laptop, I had writers’ block, my great-great-great-aunt’s sister Mary’s husband’s cat, Frosty, died, and so on, but I will come forward and tell the truth: I a.) forgot about blogging b.) got a crush on an unattainable boy (just my type) and was subsequently distracted by that (i’m 15, 1 guy has shown interest me before and he ended up stalking me. and he only liked me because he assumed i was easy. moving on) c.) started reading more d.) started a journal which was more of a form of catharsis than anything because I can write everything and anything down without feeling completely inane or cliched or censored (i.e. I could use people’s names in my journal, here, not so much). But anyway, I’m back and possibly here to stay.

Starting with my new reading interests. I have just finished Sloppy Firsts by Megan McCafferty and am now onto Second Helpings. I quite strongly hated Jessica Darling 75% of the time in Sloppy Firsts because she was so whiny and narcissistic it was sickening. Also, for most of the book NOTHING HAPPENED but her constant whining about how her best friend is gone, she hates her other friends, her parents, her job, her town and so on. Now, if I had read this last year, I know that I would have loved it. I would have jumped on Jessica’s hate bandwagon before you could say  “STUCK UP”, but I’m not as cynical as Jessica or 9th grade me anymore. Granted, I am still angsty, self-righteous and a complainer and I relate to the character a good deal of the time, but I don’t have quite as sharp a chip on my shoulder as she does, nor do I want to. All in all, the book was very good, the character, if not entirely likable, very well developed and I do recommend it.
Hmmm… what else has been going on in Caitlyn’s world? I am starting to worry more about testing, college, etc. My state tests are coming up, and I think I will do pretty well on them, provided I study, review, rinse and repeat. I also am starting to worry about the SAT. Tomorrow, after my job interview, I will be dragging my dad around town and making him purchase me an SAT review/practice booklet thingy, so I have something F-U-N to do this most likely boring summer. Due to my lack of friends who aren’t a.) super busy with their shows and whatnot or b.) super busy with their oh-so-important boyfriends, I will most likely be lonely and bored this summer, spending my days with characters from classical literature, modern literature and fluff along with my parents, and, hell, I might even throw in a few films as well, if I get rebellious. (whoa, cynicism overload). Well, after this surprisingly-easy-to-write-blog, I will leave you. and p.s. I MADE THIS FOR YOU.

Books finished this year: 12
Blog soundtrack and/or song of the moment: SOTM- “If It Kills Me”- Jason Mraz


old lady nail polish, my friend is a princess and my secret desire to open a coffee shop

16 Mar

(notice what i did there? ^ The picture doubles as a quote. lyrics from Breakdown by Jack Johnson)

Hello my lovely lady lumps.

Today has been a very good day and since last night/this morning I have been in the mood to blog. Maybe I’m trying to prepare for BEDA, but I actually feel like I have a bit to talk about. So, time to explain the title of this blog. A. I have a pretty taupeish-pink color nail polish that my friend addressed as “old lady nail polish”. Whatever, I like it. B. That same friend put a beaded necklace around her head and when asked why she said she was wearing a necklace on her head she answered, “because it makes me look like a princess.” Not all of my friends are dumb, I swear. (XD i luff you steph). C. If you follow me on twitter (which you so should), you would know that I have recently become addicted to the Canadian drama Being Erica, which you can find on Hulu and in the second season of the show there is a coffee shop called Goblins with an awesome sign that I could not find online. And I want to rip the show off and open up a coffee bar called Goblins.
More about Being Erica, the title makes the show sound deliriously stupid, which it is not. The show follows Erica Strange, a thirty-two year old woman falling into dead-end jobs and bad relationships. Her rationale? Bad choices, bad decisions. Solution? Therapy. Not your average therapy, no. Therapy that involves time travel, fixing your regrets and magic. The fact that the Erica is a quick tongued, witty and gorgeous girl is only one good part of the show. Her Lorelai Gilmore-like personality and charm adds into the fact that traveling into her past gives her a hell of a lot more dimensions. The only downside to this, is that the other characters in the show go slightly undeveloped, while Erica is a three-dimensional, average person who happens to travel through time. I just finished the second season (literally like less than ten minutes ago. I came back to writing this blog after I finished. SO GOOD). I am really looking forward to the *possible* third season.
Okay, moving on to make it seem like I don’t just sit around watching shows on the Internet, I will talk briefly about my schoolwork. I have a project for a class due Thursday, a rough draft of an essay due Thursday and I have done about no work. I couldn’t work on the project because I don’t have the passwords for my school’s account for the databases I’m allowed to use (in other words, Wikipedia is NOT okay) and my outline for the essay has not been approved. But anyways, the creative component of the project is going to turn out really well because it involves a video and the use of some AWESOME music. I mean, I’m using Marauders’ Map by Ministry of Magic, how awesome is that? ANSWER: VERY.

Books read this year: 7
Lisztomania by Pheonix and Better Together by Jack Johnson


In the next ten years…

1 Mar

I’m 15 now, in ten years I’ll be 25. This is what I want to accomplish between now and then.

1. I want to go to college and study creative writing, professional writing or some sort of English.

2. I want to study abroad while at college.

3. I want to join the Peace Corps for a year.

4. I want to work for Care

5. I want to publish a book.

6. I want to travel to Europe. I specifically want to see Italy, Greece, France, Belgium, England, Amsterdam, Ireland and so on.

7. I want to buy a house.

8. I want to meet my friends from the Internet IRL.

9. I want to meet some of my favorite authors.

10. I don’t want to fail at this stuff.


note: i will post a real blog soon. i just need to get over this writer’s block nonsense.