Music & Lyrics

As hard as I try, as long as I wait, I cannot wake myself up. I think it’s my lack of sleep. I feel like I’m constantly living in the Twilight Zone. Like I’m not really here. Like I’m watching a movie. As if everything around me is just a projected image on the screen in front of me, none of it is real. The coffee is never strong enough, the air is never brisk enough, the sun is never bright enough, and the pain never hurts enough to bring me back down to earth.

I feel most alive, and most awake when I’m listening to music. There is a core connection between me, music, and lyrics. And it is a beautiful thing. Unfortunately, I have zero musical ability at all. And this really puts a strain on our relationship. But that is okay. I can occasionally spit out a poem that I think “hey, that could be a song…” but moments like that are rare. I was never meant to compose or perform songs. But I feel like if I did, I would feel so very alive.

Music makes up my whole being. It explains the world to me, and allows me to be a part of it even if just for one songs length. Music understands my hardships and struggles. And I can sing along with music about them to sad melodies, and it makes me feel better. Music is the best friend any one could ever ask for. Because I find that it is the only thing that can console you in exactly the way you need to be consoled. In the most perfect way for you. It always knows exactly what you need. And it doesn’t mind if you cry.

But the very best music is Jesus music. Because the music is beautiful, and the lyrics even more so. Together, the music and lyrics about God are a toxic combination for greatness. Because absolutely every inch of the song was composed for his glory. And I think that is simply amazing. If ever there was a time I have felt truly alive or awake, it was while I was listening to a great Jesus song. They put me deep in thought while the notes seep into my skin, and I feel rejuvenated. I think if I could harness the power of those songs, if I could find a way to keep that with me throughout the day, then I would no longer feel like I’m always living under a fog. I’d be able to feel alive always and jump into the movie, and quit being a bystander during life. Because precious moments are being sucked away from me while I sit there and observe. Things are happening while I just watch. This life is short, and I can’t afford to lose any more time.

Put Some New Shoes On.

Watching everyone I know break their commitments all around me, makes me very tempted to break mine. It is so, so likely that I will.

And that is a scary thing.

Because getting sucked into things like this, are just not good. And even though I know this, I would do it anyway. I so would. But that’s just me for you.

It just makes me feel like it wouldn’t matter if I did, because no one else is keeping up with theirs. So why should I? Not to mention, who would even care? Who would worry? Who would try to talk me out of it? Who would be brave enough to travel that road with me?

I’m having a hard time coming up with a name.

Because it is a touchy subject that people like to ignore and pretend like it isn’t there. Because it is so common, but so not ever addressed. Popular, and taboo. All at once. I don’t think anyone really knows what to do with it. I sure don’t.

All I can say, is thank Jesus for Frontier Ranch in a like 2 weeks. I so need a refresher. I so need to get back in line with God. Because I so feel like I’m getting drug away from him. Like people are sucking me down the drain away from him with them. And I do not like it. I do not like it at all.

I was happy about the person that I was becoming, but I really feel like I’m slipping back into the old Caitlin’s shoes. And I am SO SO SO not happy with that. I just. Don’t want to go back there. I don’t want to be sad about the things she was sad about. I don’t want to get angry about the things that bothered her. I don’t want to do the things she did. I don’t want to feel the way she felt.

I DO NOT WANT TO FEEL THE WAY SHE FELT.

I need to avoid her stinky old shoes, and put some new shoes on. I need to get back in line with Jesus, and start reading my Bible again. I was getting so good with that. I don’t know what happened. I just let myself go. In more way than one, and that is how I got to where I am now.

And I really need to fix that. Along with 5000 other things.

*Sigh*

I’ll make it happen.

Food.

I suffer from food.

Food attacks me.

It stares me down.

It mocks me.

It tempts me.

It breaks me down.

It makes me cry.

It does horrible, horrible things to me.

I. Hate. Food.

I am at a place where I can find no happy medium with food. I either eat way too much, or I eat way too little. And neither is good. Neither is doing one good thing for me.

I hate talking about me and food’s issues with people. Because people either a) get mad at me, or b) throw me a pity party. I don’t want a pity party. I’m not looking for one. I do NOT want people to feel bad for me.I just want to get to a happy place with food again. Because we can’t keep up this unhealthy relationship.

This all goes back to my insecurities, which are very ugly little nagging voices in my head. I think it’s really them that I have the bad relationship with, not food.

I HATE THIS BATTLE SO MUCH. Because I feel guilty for having these insecurities. I feel so, so guilty. Because I am bashing God’s creation. It’s like when someone tells me that my writing is lacking creativity. Even a minor criticism to my writing makes me want to ball myself up with my notebook, and never let anyone ever see it ever ever ever again. And that happens to me with just an ounce of criticism. And here I am, SCREAMING at God, telling him just how horrible his creation is. He stitched it together all wrong. The pieces are mismatched, and it is just terrible. And he should start over.

Who am I to tell God that what he made is wrong?

Who am I to completely hate what he has given me to live in?

Food is a gift from him too. A creation from God, another one, that I hate. It really makes me feel like a terrible person to think that I am seriously bashing God’s figurative writing. Only a jerk does that.

I just prayed a big long prayer. Asking him to take the hatred of food from me. I asked that he would place a want in me to have those thoughts gone. Because believe it or not, I find some sick sanity in having those gross thoughts in me. I like beating myself up. I like thinking I need to improve myself.

I don’t like thinking I should be content with what I have.

I do not, I do not, I do not.

But I need to.0

So I am asking God to help me want to get rid of those thoughts.

Because food is not my enemy. (I don’t really believe that yet)

Food, is my friend. (Gag here, no pun intended)

And I really need to learn that.

Pray for me?

Contradiction.

I’m sitting here. Contradicting myself. I’m reading a portion of the book Cold Tangerines online. And it is so good. And it makes me feel good. But at the same time, I am almost brought to tears. I can feel them in my eyes. Not because I am overwhelmed with how great Shauna Niequist’s writing is, but because mine is simply never going to be that good. It’s almost a jealousy thing, I think. I don’t even know Shauna. But I want so much to write a book as good as hers.

My writing can be similar to hers sometimes. It’s quirky, and not very conventional or professional. But it is no where, not even close to as good as hers. I have very very very little faith that it ever will be. I have very very very little faith that I will ever write anything worthy of being published. And even if I did, I have very very very little faith that anyone will read my book. Because it askdfksdjfakld. I’m self bashing. And I’m sorry.

I am contradicting myself because the portion of the book that I’m reading says this:

“To all the secret writers, late-night painters, would-be singers, lapsed and scared artists of every stripe, dig out your paintbrush, or your flute, or your dancing shoes. Pull out your camera or your computer or your pottery wheel. Today, tonight, after the kids are in bed or when your homework is done, or instead of one more video game or magazine, create something, anything.

Pick up a needle and thread, and stitch together something particular and honest and beautiful, because we need it. I need it.

Thank you, and keep going.”

So I am a contradiction. Because I’m reading a passage about pressing forward and continuing with my hobby (which is writing) but I’m getting angry while reading it. Because I can’t get my writing to sound like hers. I’m never going to get it to be as neat or cool or fresh as any of my favorite writers. So it’s frustrating me to read this passage that is bubbly and fun.

And my words are not.

But Shauna is telling me to keep writing.

But I don’t want to.

That’s a lie.

I do, but I want my writing to sound good. I want soothing rows of black and white to fly onto this computer into complete perfection. But that is not the case. I can’t get it to sound good. And it’s times like this that I want to end my writing career (for good this time).

Just because nothing sounds right.

And nothing sounds real.

And none of it sounds good at all.

And I am upset about this.

I’m sorry, blog world, that I am a giant contradiction. I really wish I wasn’t.

In My Opinion,

I think life in this world is a scary thing in a scary place.

“Clean Your Room, Caitlin!”

When my room gets messy, it gets real messy. I don’t like it. It bothers me. But this alone is not enough for me to just clean it. Because I have to be in a certain state of mind to clean my room once it gets bad. I don’t think I could ever explain to someone why that is. Usually the motivation comes to me on a night that I can’t sleep. But I cannot, cannot, CANNOT just clean my room. Especially when someone says, “Clean your room, Caitlin!” That just makes it ten times worse. It really does. That makes it like a giant “Do Not Press” button. It only makes me want to press it, meaning, it only makes me want to leave it messy.

This is because I am a teenager. And I have raging rebellious hormones and such. Yay, genetics.

But when I am feeling frisky, and ready to clean, I go about it very strategically. First I clean out all of the trash, then I fold my clothes and do the laundry, then I start putting things away, then I make sure everything is nice and tidy (clear desk, clear dresser, organized makeup area, etc.), and then I bring in the cleaning products and wipe down everything and vacuum and stuff, and finally I will make my bed.

Sometimes, if people are coming over, or if my room is really bothering me, but I don’t want to really clean it, I shove all the stuff into a corner and I make my bed. Making the bed always makes the room look cleaner, even though it’s really not.

My room cleaning issues and my mind issues are very similar.

Because, when my brain gets cluttered and stressed and messy, it gets real, real bad. My mind is my mental/figurative/whateveryouwanttocallit room. And I don’t like cleaning it out. I really have to get myself in the mood to do some mental cleansing. But then God comes along and yells, “Clean your room, Caitlin!” and I just roll my eyes and press the “Do Not Press” button. Because of my hormones or whatever.

My dad often says “When it becomes trash…. THROW IT OUT!!!” Now, he thinks I do not grasp this after 17 years, but the funny thing is that I do. He just doesn’t grasp that I am a teenager, and I don’t always do what I’m supposed to do. Again, yay genetics.

But I feel like God says this to me too. “When your thoughts become trash… THROW THEM OUT!!!” And believe it or not, I know this too. But this is harder to do than making yourself get up to throw out real garbage. Because we all have trashy thoughts that we think aren’t that bad…

Oh, it’s okay if there’s a few soda cans in my room.

Oh, it doesn’t matter that I’m thinking hateful thoughts about that person.

But it does matter. Maybe not the soda cans. But trashy thoughts are never acceptable…

I go through a very similar process of quick cleaning my mind as the one I use to quick clean my room when I’m going to be around people. I shove all of my trash into a corner of my mind, and I polish my appearance. Because when you look good, it makes you seem sane. Even though you’re not.

But I need to get a more strategic plan, of throwing out my trashy thoughts as they come at me. Not waiting until they’ve piled up into an unsightly mess. Because that just causes stress all over, and God is not pleased when this happens.

I should probably do that with my room too, whatever.

I also need to learn to quit with the false appearances. It can’t be healthy to pretend like I’m okay when I’m not as much as I do. Maybe I could get help if I actually told people what was wrong sometimes?

Maybe.

Scrambled Eggs

I am at Panera. And I feel like my brain is a couple of scrambled eggs. I mean this for the scrambled part. Not so much for the eggs. Maybe it’s because I just ordered a bagel sandwich and it came with an egg on it… I don’t like eggs. So I just plucked the sucker off and ate the rest of my sandwich. So now I am just inhaling the aroma of the egg that is sitting next to me.

I’m trying to write a book. I’m trying to write said book right now, to pass the time. That is proving difficult. Because my mind is currently in a frying pan somewhere, being scrambled. And rescrambled. And scrambled again.

Little things are distracting me, and then my mind wanders down the rabbit trail.

Little things are bothering me, and I’m fed up with being upset about them.

Is that weird?

To be upset about being upset?

Probably.

Anyway, my thoughts are all over the place. I really can’t keep them in one spot long enough to get more than a paragraph out at a time. And this is a problem. A fault of mine, indeed. All because my mind has turned to scrambled eggs.

It could be from the lack of sleep I’ve been having recently. And the headaches. Mhm. That’s probably it. I’ve been going on like, 4 hours of sleep a night or less. And this really is a problem. No sleep causes my headaches to be worse, which causes my brain to go into the frying pan. Which causes me to get absolutely nothing accomplished.

AND I CAN’T DEAL WITH IT ANYMORE!!

Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.

See, scrambled. I’m a complete loon today. Daniel’s about to come and hang out with me. (I figured that out as of 2 seconds ago, literally, midblog. Are you impressed?) And he’s going to laugh at me because I’m so crazy.

WHATEVER.

:)

Crumbling Castles

There once, was a princess. She lived in a castle, like all princesses do, and she spent her days doing princessy things. She wore fine dresses, and ate fine meals. She slept on fine mattresses, and had lots of fine things. The princess lived a world that could only be dreamt of. And she was happy living there.

You see, she came from a world that was not fine. But when she finally found her kingdom, it was quite an escape from her horrible past. The people there loved her, and they served her. They treated her like the princess that she always thought she ought to be.

But eventually her castle and dresses and  meals and mattresses and things were not enough. She was content in her kingdom. But there was something missing. And she didn’t know what that something was. She couldn’t figure it out. The princess became very sad trying to figure out what it was that she didn’t have. She would stare out of the window of the tallest tower in her castle for hours, searching the roaming hills of her land for what it was that was not in her grasp.

And that’s when it hit her, she could not find it while she stayed in her tower; she had to go look for it herself.

So the princess packed her bags, and bid her followers farewell as she set off into her land to find what was missing.

She walked for days, and days, and days on end. And the weak girl had nothing to show for her troubles. She began to cry. She would never find her answer. Never! And so she started running back toward her castle, determined never to leave it again, she would not be disappointed again. But the princess’s eyes were too blurred by her tears that she did not see where she was going. She did not see the river up ahead. And her cries made her deaf to the rush of the river.

She tripped. She fell in.

It was the end. She knew it was. And she was okay with that, she welcomed the oncoming current, and she embraced it. Who needed a perfect world if it wasn’t perfect after all? She felt herself slipping away, but before she entered a complete black, she saw a face. A beautiful face. Then, nothing.

She woke again, to her dismay. Coughing up mouthful, after mouthful of water. Not very elegant. Not in the presence of a prince. A prince? Yes, there was a prince, and she was in his arms. A classic end to a damsel in distress movie. He saved her from her watery grave. Which she was not thankful for at all, until she saw his face.

Him.

He was what was missing. Her journey was not for nothing. She found him. Or rather, he found her.

They were perfect together. They went back to her kingdom and her perfect world was euphoric, beyond perfect. All because of him. All because she found what was missing.

Perfection never lasts for long, not even in a fairytale.

He stayed for the whole day, the prince, he made the princess the happiest she’d ever been. She was so fixated on him, on loving him, that she didn’t notice when he turned against her. He was so slick, so sly. Never actually a prince, he was a villain the whole time! But she never saw it that way. He was her perfect prince, who completed her perfect world.

Until the clock struck twelve, then he turned on her, he revealed his lies to her, and broke her down bit by bit. He smiled at her while she cracked down to nothing. Then he turned and left. Leaving a broken princess in his wake.

The princess was broken, indeed. She cried, and cried. Watching her perfect world peel away from her. She watched it all fall away, piece by piece. It was literally unraveling, with spots of the world she originally came from showing through here and there. But there was nothing she could do to stop it. Her world was crumbling, whether she liked it or not. She watched as her memories ran like paint down a wall into puddles on the ground that soon seeped in, and were no longer concrete; they were gone.

Everything. Was gone.

The princess surveyed her surroundings.

But she was not a princess; she never was. She was just a girl in high school with a broken heart.

The End.

[P.S. There was a happy ending to this story, but it didn’t sound right, so I cut it off here]

One More Round

I did it! I came up with a blog title. And I’m happy with it. It’s not as clever as I would have liked, but it suits me, my life, and what I’m going through right now.

My inspiration came from the song One More Round by BarlowGirl. It’s a song I hear frequently, but I never have listened to it, until earlier. I was thinking about how certain events in my life are like entering a boxing ring. And I keep on losing. But then I was reminded of some things by reading through a letter I’d written myself. That sounds weird, whatever. It was necessary. And I was reminded of how powerful and big our God is. And how he will never fail us. We cannot lose with him on our side. We might think we are losing, but we are losing only to humanity. We are not, we can never lose to God when we’re following him. When he’s in the ring with us. He will always dominate.

The song just describes my spirit. Especially when I’m in awe of Jesus. Which I should be in more often. So that’s why when I thought of my life as a boxing ring, and I was reminded of how great God really is. I had the thought, “I won’t lose the last round. I’ll come out kicking and screaming.” And the name of the song popped into my mind. One More Round. If you read the lyrics, it’s really a great song. And I think you’d understand how it suits me so. Seriously, look em up.

But I know that victory is when
I’m pushing through the pain
that tries to feed me lies
that I wont reach the end

I don’t think those lines will speak to you like they did me. But you’d have to hear how often the devil is whispering in my ear to understand why they absolutely feel like me. Those lines feel like me. If BarlowGirl, or whoever hadn’t written them, I would have.

There was a reason I was never content with any of the blog names I tried to come up with. There’s a reason I chose a temporary name. It was so I could have this moment. This moment. I am so thankful for the clarity in my mind right now. I am so thankful that it is my birthday when I am having this moment. Better than any birthday present I could have asked for. And from the most important person.

So my blog is now called One More Round. And I’m ecstatic about it. But if you don’t like it, that’s a tragedy. But I don’t care.

Good night, blog world :)

Too Bad.

I’m so confused.

I have everything a person needs to successfully sustain life.

But I feel like I am missing something vital to my health.

My heart is telling me that is a person.

HELLO, CAITLIN. YOU DO NOT NEED A PERSON. DO NOT FIND YOUR WORTH IN PEOPLE. FIND YOUR WORTH IN GOD.

*Sigh* If only it were that easy for me to believe. Too bad it’s not. Too bad I’m dumb and can’t get that through my skull. Too bad no one wants me anyway. Too bad I’m really insecure and tend to believe things that aren’t true. Too bad I push God away too much. Too bad I can’t figure out how to find my worth in God. Too bad.

I’m going to be 17 in 29 minutes. Weird, weird, weird. I should still be lying about my age to the ticket people at the movie theatre. “How old are you?” “Uh, 13”. Yeah. I should still be little. I still feel little. In a way. But then again, I have changed so much since then. It’s a little strange to look back on it.

But I can’t stop this aching feeling. The aching of not having enough. I’m alive, I have a roof over my head, I have this fancy new laptop, I never go hungry, I have clothes. So what? Why am I not happy with this? Why can I not be content with God? Why do I feel like our newly attained relationship is dwindling?  I’m losing focus. And that is just too bad.

I feel like things will get back on track when I start writing my book. And I can’t explain to you why that is. It’s just something that I need to do for me. And I’m very excited for it.

I’m sorry this is full of scattered thoughts. I’m a very scattered person right now.

The end.