The Things I Should Have Said

For everything I keep inside my head. And some of the things I don't.

Sunday, January 28, 2007

I've been formulating posts in my head for days and daily I come on and try to make myself write something.

It just never comes out as anything interesting. And I just feel stupid. I feel horribly vain when I want to try and stay modest.

I'm a pretty uninteresting looking person. Brown hair, round face, big brown eyes, (I may get around to posting a picture someday) still, there are not very many special things about the way I look. And none the less, I've been getting attention from some of the boys...men...guys?-The people in my life. And one of those boys I've like for a long time. Part of me thinks that he may just be mocking me. That when he says I'm pretty he is just kidding. And yet, I can't stop thinking about him. I look forward to going to school so I can see him and because of that I feel completely idiotic.

I have millions of teenage flirty stories to share with you. I've been driving all of my other friends crazy with them. I'll write about them all in my next post. I'll write all about my first boyfriend, my gay ex-boyfriend, Paul, Creepy Phil, Jason, and you can tell me about the people in your life.

Valentines day is coming. I wonder if I will get the chance to celebrate this year.

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Wednesday, January 10, 2007

Disclaimer of sorts . . .

I'm sitting at my kitchen counter chewing on the toughest cheeseburger I've ever sunk my teeth into. It's rather disgusting, but when drenched in Ketchup almost anything tastes better. I've been busy all day but, I've taken a break to post a small update.
I feel I've let the real reason I've started this journal go. Not that I don't like what I've done with it or that it really matters at all, but I really started this as a place for everything I don't tell people. Not a very honest idea, but this is the place where I want to be completely honest.

So, this is a disclaimer of sorts. Just for me. And you. I do this in every journal. Even the ones I keep under my bed. Everything you might be offended by or bored by or . . . anything. I hate to alienate people because I may offend them. So here's what you may need to know:

*I have no religious affiliation. I'm slightly agnostic. I am, however, very open minded and interested in everyone else's religious ideas. I love nothing more then a healthy debate.
*I love to hear about other people from other countries, cities, anything. Makes the world a more united and smaller place when I can relate to someone so far away.
*I whine. A lot. About school, and people, and how I want to help but can't, and life, and homework. And boys. I'm sorry about that. But, I do.
*I'm pretty liberal in most of my opinions. Go gay marriage. Pro-choice. And so on.
*I can be overly vague. Although it's probably on purpose.
*I make spelling mistakes.
*I go on tangents, I write random fiction, I sound too vain, I contradict myself, I plan on posting my random photography. I love to know what you think. Good bad or in-between.
*I have promised not to censor myself.
Also, my name is Caity. I thought if we're going to be friends, you should at least know my name. What's yours?

Well, I thought I had more to say then that. Maybe I'll add more later. Anyway, onward to today's post:

Finished my ridiculous essay for English that's been waiting over my head for weeks. It felt good to print that out and hand it in. Even if she doesn't take full credit for it, I did it and that I am proud of. I still have work to do, but I feel content that I've finished what I have. Which is rather lame because I should just be expected to do that work, that should just be how life is. Exams are next week and I'm amazed how calm I am about them. I'm going through this Zen faze where I just keep thinking how everything is already in the past and I don't want to change it. I'll get the grades I get and know I probably deserve them because, while I've been working hard and been very busy, that effort hasn't been focused at school. I'll take life as it comes and enjoy it that way.

I'm afraid my goldfish is dying. Ricky O. Bob is one year, two months old and he's stopped eating. I take good care of him but, I'm afraid this is the beginning of the end.

In broadcast journalism today, (the class that is the death of me) we did a presentation for our quarter projects. Now, understand that this class is filled with talented people and run by an idiot. We all do little things to annoy her. It's our silent unity that I love about that class. I also love how I've connected with those people. I love how I have conversations and laughs with people I wouldn't have shared more then a smile with. All because I was in the video where we only had one take and I made a news story up off the top of my head about ancient manuscripts. Upon watching it, I don't think it was at all funny except for my very serious "news reporter face" I had even when talking about the first ever German Bible (i know) and the book on ancient rock climbing and the Book of Life. Not funny, but it somehow got me a reputation of being "sweet and entertaining and photogenic". Which I accepted.

(edited:)

So during our presentations, we had to write critics on everyone's projects. And my presentation was awful. I accept it. I mean, they like me in that class and so we just kinda laughed our way through it. But, I fear what they wrote about it.

Anyway, there is this boy who sits next to me. We've been friends for a while, but he didn't always sit there. He moved recently to be closer to another one of his friends, but we laugh together all the time about the videos or our journals or our teacher's obsession with his hair. Anyway, after my presentation, I wrote my critic of myself.

It simply said: Caity: Did she do any research at all?

Because that fit the theme of my critics and he showed me his.

He covered my name with his finger and it said:

Deliberately placed finger: Love Virgin Suicides. [one of the movies I had to write about] Caity's so nice to me!!?scribble

He dictated that to me and I just laughed. He set it down and got up to hold someone else's project and I saw what he had been covering.

It said, Caity: Pretty girl.

For some reason, it made happy all day. He's a nice guy.
I've also decided I want to make my journal more multimedia. . . friendly. So, I'm going to start posting a photo of the day. Or of the post. . All taken by me unless otherwise stated.


Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

A photograph from London I'm rather fond of. I thought it was particularly funny since there were several offers from several attrative men to go get drinks after whatever we finished doing. And they were all so surprised we weren't 18.

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Friday, January 05, 2007

Burn the Past

“Do people even use these stairs?”
“Not anymore. After the fire, they had to redo the interior of the buildin- Don’t step on that one, Riley! They just kinda left these stairs untouched.”
“What?” Cole sheepishly acknowledged the step I was about to sink through. The carpet had melted away and the wood beneath that had crumbled to near ash. I gingerly steeped over it pausing to reach my hand out to brush the charred walls. “I was just about to tell you how much I liked this wall paper," I half heartily joked as black ash crumbled to the floor. Cole grabbed my hand.
“Don’t touch."
My fingers retreated into my pocket. With his verbal guidance I made it up with rest of the stairs alive and stopped behind him at a black crème wall chaste and untouched by the flames.
“Okay? Now what?”
“Shh.” He lifted his hands to the ceiling, his long fingers searching for something. I watched him with interest. His eyes were closed in concentration and his lips moved, counting out numbers silently. Then, he pushed up suddenly on one of the ceiling tiles that I hadn’t noticed existed until they disappeared. Fresh air and moonlight flooded the narrow corridor.
“You’re really going to like this.”
Behind me, the black stairs fell to darkness after the first turn. I couldn’t believe I’d followed him up here. I turned back and he had disappeared, except for his hand which hung over the edge of the ceiling tiles. I reached up for it, then paused.
“I’m not sure I want to go up there.”
“Why? Do you not trust me?” His head slid into view, his dark hair flipped forward and hung wildly.
“I trust you. I just. . .I just don’t want you to get hurt trying to pull me up there.”
“Really, why don’t you trust me?” Several valid things popped into my head each involving varies degrees of illegal activity. I chose to not mention any of them.
“We had to sneak past people to get up here. I was expecting you to hand me a blindfold and throw me in the back of a black unmarked car.”
“That would have been a little unconventional. And ridiculous. Come on, Riley. Please?” His face pleaded with me. I was noticing how the wrinkles around his mouth framed his smile and how his nose crinkled, when his head vanished again. He shuffled around and then he slid, feet first, to the ground beside me holding in one hand a rope ladder too long for the seven foot distance from me to the roof. He presented it to me.
“What’s that for?”
“In case there is a fire.”
“Ironic,” I mentioned softly taking in the state of the building around me.
“Close your eyes, okay?”
“While I climb the ladder?”
“Yes.”
“Right.” I muttered sarcastically. “That’s safe.”
My eyelids fluttered closed. Then, wrinkling my eyebrows, I opened them again watching him skeptically. He said nothing, but there was something about the look on his face that was reassuring. I had just snuck out of my roommate’s birthday party- his ex-girlfriend,- up several flights of stairs crumbling beneath our feet. If I was in danger, there was no going back. I was safest right where I was with his hand placing mine onto one of the ropes.
He helped me up the ladder until the tantalizing warm air of the evening washed over my face. My eyelids still fastened shut, I felt the ground and hoisted myself the rest of the way onto the gravely rooftop. Lacking upper body strength, I rolled over like a beached whale and grimaced as each tiny rock burrowed into my skin. I laid still, my face to the heavens. I heard him gracefully slide beside me.
“Just breathe,” He said. And until that moment I hadn’t realized how relaxing and simultaneously exhilarating it was to be laying under the stars doing nothing, thinking about nothing, and just feeling.
“Is this what you do with your time?” I mumbled softly.
“Yes,” He chuckled.
“Just…find rooftops, and lay there?” We shared a chortle both knowing very well that was not how he spent his time.
“My apartment has a balcony. It’s close enough.”
“Mmm,” I took several deep breaths. “Why is something this simple so amazing?”
“Depends on the company.” I heard the rocks crunch as he shifted. His hand grazed my forehead and I opened my eyes. He was leaning over me and, against my will, my heart beat a little faster. He lingered for a moment.
“Come on. You haven’t even seen the best part yet.” He jumped up and looked down at me, his hand extended. He was like Tom Sawyer, always onto the next adventure, showing off all the while. Beaming gently, I let him pull me up. Like a child, he slid one hand around my eyes. Started, I pulled away slightly, then relaxed into a smile. With his other hand on the small of my back, our feet crunched loudly on the tiny pebbles littering the roof as he led me to what I knew was the edge of the building. With a flourish he removed his hand and instructed me to open my eyes. The entire city of Los Angeles was spread out in front of me, twinkling in the darkness.
With a barely audible gasp, I searched every inch of the endless lights in front of me. The clouded sky above was a hue of orange as the bulbs of the city reflected off of the rapidly approaching masses. A light breeze infused with the scent of gardenias ruffled our hair and blew away all hesitation. In awe, we both stood in a content silence.
“I wanted you to have it,” He muttered softly beside my ear gesturing towards the view while watching for my reaction with earnest. My face slid out of a smile. He looked slightly put out. I took a moment to watch him.
“You’re so interesting to me, Colton. You seem so childish and eager and spontaneous. But, there’s so much more I don’t know. I can’t really place you.” I laughed, but his face lost all of it’s infantile-like glow.
“I’m not childish. I’m usually very serious. I just, for some reason, act differently when I’m around you,” Frustration sat in every syllable.
“I don’t mean it as an insul-”
“What about you, Riley?” He daringly trudged over to the rim of the rooftop and flipped his legs over the edge so they dangled freely in the air. “Why are you so cautious? You don't do anything out of turn. I haven’t seen you take any risks, not in the way you act, dress, anything. You’re almost boring.” In an attempt to prove him wrong, I marched over and slid beside him on the slender lip of the rooftop. I tried to ignore the heavy nervous pounding of my heart every time my eyes glanced to the cars hundreds of feet below.
“If I’m boring, Cole, don’t spend time with me.” I answered simply.
“Really, Riley. Why are you so careful?”
“There’s too much to lose in being stupid and daring. I’ve had to learn that from everyone else’s mistakes.”
“You have to learn from your own mistakes,” He stated as if this was the motto he lived by.
“And I have! I’ve made plenty of my own. But, it’s everyone around me that influences me the most.”
“You-”
“ Do you have any brothers or sisters Cole?” I cut him off and he retreated into silence. “ I have two older siblings. My brother is 26 and he has three beautiful children,” I took a moment to think of each of their round faces and happy laughter with blue eyes so unlike my own. “Well, had. It turned out they were living in his car and he couldn’t afford to feed them all. So, now they’re in lovely foster homes across the country.”
“I’m sorry, Riley.”
“I saw it coming. My brother doesn’t know how to think of anyone but himself,” We sat in heavy silence each of us considering our own families.
“And you have another sibling?” He finally asked.
“My sister.”
“What happened to her?”
“She made some terrible mistakes.” I took a deep breath. Cole was watching me with sympathetic interest. My eyes blurred over with warm salty water. “She abandoned me, her family, in the worst way she could. I haven’t seen her in two years and I never will again,” My stomach filled hot rage and I swallowed my tears. I refused to let myself cry about her anymore. “My parents gave up on them and focused on making sure that I wasn’t a screw up. So, I learned that I needed to be careful and observant and not too daring and I’ll get along just fine.”
“It’s all for your parents? You can’t live for someone else.”
“If you could have seen everything they went though, you would do anything you could to keep them happy. Besides, I moved here didn’t I? And in doing that, in losing me, it killed them. But, you’re righr. For once in my life I wanted to live for me instead of taking care of everyone else. And this is where I wanted to do that.”
The wind was growing stronger bringing in a chill. I slid off the edge of the roof turning back towards the door in the ground we’d crawled out of. Cole followed suit and I slid closer to him.
“Why does everyone move to L.A.?” He asked softly staring at the Hollywood sign in the distance.
“Because it has potential.”
“What do you mean?”
“A person hears so much about this city, and then they come here and find out that it’s just another home, with the potential of being amazing hidden somewhere within the maze of downtown. All of my life, I’ve wanted to perform. And I always have been. Until I came here and no one seemed to want to watch anymore. And it kills me to see people like you, up on stage living my dream. It especially hurts when I know that I could be just as good or better then the people who take everything they have for granted!”
“Riley, it just takes a lot of hard work.”

. . . . . . . . .

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

Around every corner, yesterday lurks. . .

My grandparents had been dying to buy me something for Christmas. I don't think they would have let me leave until they got to spend some money on me. So, we inevitably went shopping. I didn't want any clothes, although I did end up buying some, of course. I was on the look-out for a wallet. Seems simple enough to some but my taste in wallets is very specific and honestly I had already found true love in my fading old companion. I knew, though, that I had to get a new one once money started slipping out of the well worn holes.
Nothing I saw suited my tastes. They were all too big, to brown, to many fold out pictures (those are enough to scare away small children when they cascade attacking out of a wallet) The wallets were too big at the Totes and More and they were too expensive at Chanel.
Anyway, this is not at all the point. I bought a wallet at Target. Seven dollars. I don't like it partially because it's too big and doesn't have a pocket for my lucky birth-year change and fortunes cookie fortunes (I don't really believe in it but it's become comforting at auditions that they're there. Yes, lame.)Anyway, today I was mournfully cleaning out my old wallet (for the first time in 3 years) to put everything into my new one and this is what I found:

*My drivers license where I skipped a letter in my signature. People say that they're all supposed to be hideous pictures but I kinda like mine.
*15 dollars.
*My six, seventh, eighth and ninth and eleven grade school IDs. I've lined them all up on my desk to compare. The transformation's impressive but subtle. I've only added the most recent one to my new wallet. I used to get mocked because of my six grade "lumberjack" picture (I don't know either. I didn't look like a lumberjack at all) (Except I was wearing plaid)
* 14 receipts from various coffee houses, convenience stores, banks,movie rentals, book stores and other locations (three from other states). Some of them were so old I couldn't even read what they said. Seriously, it was the case of the disappearing receipts. Only one of them was useful to me and has been placed in the new wallet.
*Instructions on how to work an Digi Pet Game that I gave to a friend as a gag gift. I hoped she figured out how to feed it. . . .
*Four different cards all saying that I'm CPR certified. The oldest is from 2002. I've found it necessary to add both the most recent one and the first on I've ever been issued to my new wallet. Yeah. Okay.
*The combination to a lock I can't find that went to a locker I no longer have.
26 4 22 Odd. My current locker combination is 26 12 2. Well, maybe not that odd.
*An identification card that I'd filled out with neon green gel pen.
*A picture of my best fried for part of middle school and all of elementary school. On the back, are the simple letters BF surrounded by a modest heart. Honestly, I didn't know this picture was in here. I have to talk about her for a second because I honestly didn't know this picture was in here. And I haven't thought about her for so long.
I've been lucky to grow up in such a diverse atmosphere. I'd like to think that I don't know a hint of racism because I've had a friend from every religion, race, upbrining, hue and social status. Her name was Sarah and I was 7 when we met and she didn't tell me her real last name until I was 13. She was Arabic and when I was younger I always wondered why her mother covered her head in a scarf. I wondered why she didn't eat pork, fasted during the fall months and she taught me so much. She wasn't my middle eastern friend, she was my best friend Sarah. And if this sounds at all racist to you, by any streach of the word, I don't mean it that way. During middle school we'd started growing apart but were still very friendly towards one another. On September 11, 2001 Sarah approached me crying in search of an old friends shoulder. Her father was stuck in New York and they hadn't heard from him since that devastating plane crash. Over the next several weeks (Her father made it home safely in four days) poor Sarah, and her entire family started getting dirty looks in the street. Kids at school ignored Sarah and her sister, her mother stopped going to the grocery store and students in her father's class (he taught physics and astrology the university) stopped coming. While some thought the tragic events on September 11th united our county, I only saw how it pulled us apart. Anyway, that came to pass and Sarah and I faded apart and I haven't seen or talked to her since sometime in eighth grade. Despite writing that whole last passage in past tense, I think she's doing fine. I hope she's doing fine. I'm putting her picture in my new wallet.
*My Debit and bank cards.
*Four gift cards- one has expired.
*My library card.

It's amazing how much you can learn about a person my the contents of their wallets. That's probably not true for many, but I was surprised about the memories that evoked.

I would begin to tell you about my vacation, but I'm failing English. I must finish that essay and make the butterflies in my stomach go away.

I can't explain to you how un-happy school makes me. It's my fault, I'll do anything to avoid it. But, it's coming down to the last two weeks before grades are due- the time when I fix all of my grades at last. I'm nervous that I can't save all of mine this time. And I'm only half upset about that.

Someone needs to hit me with a reality stick. Really hard.