Home

What is home?

   Home is defined as where one lives permanently. For someone who has moved a lot in her life, I feel like that isn't true for me, cause I haven't lived anywhere permanently. Home is that place that gives you warm fuzzies, the place where you go to when you're upset, the place that is filled of stories about you and what Little You was like. And there are quite a few of those places for me. I mean...let's just walk through that a little.

I lived in four different towns in Arkansas. The one I spent the most time in is Fort Smith, Arkansas. I remember playing soccer at a park there. I remember playing games in a grove. Everytime I visit there, I drive past old schools and old hangout places.

I lived in Virginia Beach, and it grew on me. It was that awk middle school age, but I made two or three really good friends there that I still talk to years later. I would love to just stand on the beach and listen to the seagulls for a while.

Never my home. HATED living there.

Sigh, my last residence. Fell in love with theater and frozen yogurt while living there. I miss it a lot, the food, the people, the weather (compared to here!), and the again the people. I loved going on a walk and running into like five friends. I didn't want to leave Cincinnati.

I wonder what I will write about this place.

 

Over and out!

Love,

Cailin

 

Video of the Day:

This song kinda inspired this post.

Shoutout of the Day:

To a friend of mine who is having a rough time. I'm praying for ya.
Cailin



AP Lang Bit

    We need to Care.

 

     Now, that's not the best title, but give me a moment to enlighten you. When I first attended Eaglecrest, it was one of the hardest school relocations I've ever had to go through. At my old school I was at the top of my game socially, rarely felt alone, and I liked it that way. I'm an extrovert and people jazz me up. When I had to move I was sad, but ready to see what this new place would bring me. I wasn't going down without a fight.

Well, let's just say EHS metaphorically broke all my ribs and dislocated my shoulders.

     School became a somewhat torturous activity. I walked around school with my head held high, but not feeling the confidence I pretended to have. Why? Nobody cared. Nobody cared about the girl who sat in the corner and waited for everyone to leave so she could eat without feeling self-conscious. Who wilted when people stared at her, when the only person who sat by her was doing it for a psychology experiment. I was desperate, I walked up to people I didn't know, would talk to them, they seem cool. The next day, it was like I had never spoken to them. My presence wasn't acknowledged.

    Thankfully, this isn't the end of the story. I eventually made friends and don't worry about the things I did back then. Moral of the story is that if I was in a different place, if I wasn't as stubborn as I was to make friends, something bad might've happened. I might have done something I regretted. I might have given up. And why would that have happened?

Nobody cares. That message is screamed at you through the halls. In the lunchroom. In class.

    Is this the message you want to send? Is this what people want to think of the student body when they leave EHS? I'd bet good money that my audience that I'm writing to doesn't want people to think that. Then, make the change. Set a trend. Sit by that girl wearing funky boots and ask her how she's doing.

Care. If you don't, God knows no one else will.

I Don't Like Liking People

  So, this has nothing to do with Valentine's Day because Valentine's Day is my birthday therefore it can do no wrong. This is just a Cailin's-gonna-rant-and-hope-nobody-sees-this-post-that-I-know. Let us begin.

    Once upon a time, I like a person. So I try to act cool, tell myself I don't like him, and remind myself every couple minutes that ninety percent of teen relationships don't work out. He probably likes someone with bigger tits than mine. While this thought process is successful, it's only successful for a short time.

I then decide the best thing to do is hide my feelings and not accept the fact that I like him.

 

   Thusly, I take a metaphorical shovel and dig a great big metaphorical hole and bury all those feelings in the bottom of my heart. And I refuse to let myself fantasize about any sort of 'us.' This is a very effective, if not emotionally draining method. So effective actually, that I don't notice when it quits working. It quits working:

 

When I blush or try to get said male to laugh.

When I look at facebook pictures and his face is the first one I see.

When encounters with said male are the highlights of my day.

When he smiles and I get these butterflies.

Damn those butterflies.



   When I get to the point where I am tired, a tad hormonal, and emotionally kaput, I realize the fact for what it is. That I like this individual. And he probably doesn't like me back.

 

  So I let my heart break and it whithers up and I just sit in a ball wondering why God made people, and why I'm not a hermit. And I vow never to find myself attracted in a romantic fashion to any individual.

I'll let you imagine how effective that is.



Over and out.

Love,

C

 

Video of the Day:

Warning, I found this song relatable but depressing as all get out. Listen at your own risk.

Shoutout of the Day: To my boys who had a gig I couldn't go to. I'm sorry. One of these days one of us will be filthy rich and will have the means to transport me to see y'all. I love my big brothers.:)