My Future Husband

Tight Pants for Jesus, Weiners, Lunkers, & Shlumpadinka Pants

Vogel Family Definitions: (two of many)
What is a lunker?

• Andy's definition: a large catch when ice fishing
• Dawn's definition: something you would flush down the toilet
• Dad's definition: A Christmas miracle (defined as he walks out of the bathroom)
• Dictionary's definition: something unusually large for its kind

What is a weiner? (pronounced vwee-nar)

• My definition: A part of the body that Jack is hoping to lose if he keeps being so annoying
• Mom's definition: a zesty holiday sausage
• Dawn's definition: a saucy delicious naughty at holiday time
• Dictionary's definition: frankfurter

Christmas Eve begins with Dad pulling on his Tight Pants for Jesus and singing the Tights Pants for Jesus song.  Our family of giants pile into the car and complain as it seems to downsize every year.  Marielle sings church songs a la Vogel style (For the lamb who was slain, we forgot his name, bahhhhhhhahhhhleluiah bahhhhhleluiah) during the half hour trek that brings us to Normandale Evangelical Lutheran in Edina, MN.  For once, we roll into the church parking lot a half hour early (truly unheard of when you have Jill Close as a mother) and sit there being oh-so-twenty-first-century as we ditz on our smart phones for the next fifteen minutes.  Dad being the polite little Christian that he is insists that the whole family sit in the back since our church appearances can count for about three days a year and we should give the good spots to the people who actually go to church on a regular basis.  Not only that, since the majority of our family is over the six feet tall and you can count on Auntie Dawn walking in with the processional anthem, it is best if we keep our distractions to a minimum in the back.

I'd like to say that our family really gets the most out of Christmas Eve service, but really we spend that hour and half drawing funny pictures of Santa Claus and Jesus on the offering envelopes, singing the carols in goofy voices, and scoping out the hottest boys during the readings.  Jesus is my homeboy, but sitting in an uncomfortable pew in uncomfortable clothes for that long is just not my thing.

As soon as the service is done, we pile back into the car, complain about the lack of space, and Marielle sings until we end up back hope.  The whole family pulls on their shlumpadinka pants and cozies and we gather around the kitchen counter in silence as we stuff our faces with the fat and cholesterol and sodium-filled snacks.  In true Scandinavian style, Christmas Eve dinner is a real Mexican fiesta... okay that isn't Scandinavian I just liked the sound of saying that.  So we ate queso, and guacamole, and tacos, and talked about corn in our poopies and wore our hair in doinkers which I'm too lazy to explain right now and debated the meaning of the word squishitate etc. etc. etc. blah blah blah.

I'm bored of this blog post I've been writing it for like three days now and I am so not in the mood anymore but I am posting it anyway because I already wrote a crap ton.  Oh yeah, I am pretty sure I heard good ol' Catholic Grandma Bette fart for the first time ever.  I'm afraid to even use the word "suck" in front of her.  She would be mortified if she knew what I heard slip out of her backside on Christmas. muahaha!

This morning kind of sucks.

Caroline + Risk Is A Dangerous Cocktail

Risk tends to watch me staring anxiously off the edge of the cliff and shoves me over whether I want to take the plunge or not.  Sometimes it's good, I hit the water below in a nice smooth dive and am filled with the exhilaration of the thrill. Sometimes it's bad though, and I hit the dried up ground and must figure out how to pick up all the broken pieces of who I was.

My heart dictates what risks I am willing to take, with no say from my mind.  Feeling is different for me.  It's like taking the curling iron that most people just need at medium temperature and cranking it up to maximum heat.  The curls are a whole lot better, but the burn hurts a whole hell of a lot more.  I don't tend to focus on the disciplinary consequences but how hard of a hit the consequences take on my emotional well-being.

There never seems to be a middle ground for me.  I'm all in or I'm all out.  It's why I can get cautious at times.  I want to believe that I can trust everyone, that I can trust them to never hurt me, trust them to understand who I am and how I work, but that isn't how life works in reality. I have to constantly remind myself how quickly and hard my heart can break.

Risks are scary because the outcome is the unknown and there is nothing more terrifying than diving into the unknown with no grasp on if you will be okay or not.  The idea of risk likes to sit in the pit of my stomach and gnaw away at my reasoning.  That's when the reasoning has to stop, the thinking has to stop.  I just have to do.  Have to be.

If I have learned anything in the past year it is that everything will work itself out in the end.  If it hasn't worked out yet, then it's not the end.  Marilyn Monroe said, "Sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together."  Sometimes pieces of life don't work out so the next piece of life can. It is about reminding myself that risks are worth taking if I plan on living my life to the fullest.  I'd rather regret a risk I took that didn't work out in my favor than regret a risk I didn't take and forever wonder what the outcome would have been.

Roflcopter

 

Marcel the Shell

 

Jenna Marbles: Justin Bieber's Tricks for Picking Up Chicks

 

Jenna Marbles: Sarah Palin

 

Grinding Scarred Me

 

Miss Swan: (900)HOT-SWAN

 

Miss Teen South Carolina

 

Harry Potter Puppet Pals: Wizard Angst

 

Double Rainbow

What I Discover On the Internet Instead of Doing My Homework

Okay seriously if this doesn't put a smile on your face it is time for you to see a therapist.

Grown men in costumes terrify me.  I watch too much crime television.

<3

I have lots of favorite words but 'hope' is definitely near the top of my list.

Just some good ol' warm fuzzies

Merry Christmas Everyone

Things I've Learned (Both Easy Way and Hard Way) And Other Things I Knew But Have Just Been Reinforced Lately

I actually have no recollection of what the capitalization rules are for titles.

I am an analogy addict.  I am addicted to analogies. They are the only way I know how to explain my life accurately.

Everything happens for a reason.  But it actually does.  I use this explanation for everything.  Especially things I can't figure out.  I hate (yeah I just bold, underlined, and italicized that for emphasis!) not understanding situations.

Cheeky underwear does not suit me.  Sorry Victoria's Secret.

I do not throw up often, but I do throw up easily.

My attempts to hold grudges fail me miserably every single time.  Like I said, I just can't help but love everybody.  This is why people (*cough* boys) should stop hurting my feelings.  Because as much as I try and hate them, I CAN'T DO IT.

Sometimes, it is okay to watch Gossip Girl instead of doing my homework.

It is really hard to keep people I love out of my life when they really want to be in it.

Purple is a great color.

I need to wear a belt more often, I feel like I give a crack show everyday to WHS. Yikeees.

People aren't always going to listen to what I have to say. I guess that is okay....

The self-improvement section at Barnes and Noble is my new fave hang out.  But seriously, I felt so inspired.  I'm such a sucker for that kind of stuff.

Rolling around in a giant bucket with my best friend and laughing hysterically will give people the impression that we are really freaking drunk.  We're really just being ourselves.

I shouldn't text/tweet out of anger. I WILL REGRET IT WHEN I AM NOT SO MAD.

I HATE WINTER. (Cards I just filtered so much right here you should defs be proud of me)

I seem to be the only single person who isn't feeling sorry for themselves that I don't have a boyfriend.

I wish I was as good at expressing my happiness through words as I am at expressing my sadness through words. Shmeh.

Life is never going to deal me any of the cards I expect (yes yes I know how cliche)

Eating that sundae is never going to be worth it.  Allergic reactions are so much worse than that ice cream was good.

Telling random people I don't know what I love about them never hurt anyone.

Boys usually side with their best friend, Dick.  Especially when they are drunk.

My dog and I do like each other sometimes.

The Packers are the greatest team in all of sports history. God bless the U.S. and amen.

Taking risks is what life is all about bitches!

This blog is getting really long and pointless now... 再见！我爱你!

I Just Love Everyone Right Now

Feeling sorry for yourself.  We're all good at it, me especially.  My goal is not to come off hypocritical in this next post because God knows what a downer I can be.  All I'm trying to say is that there is a lot of reasons to look at life with the glass half full rather than half empty.

Now lately there have been plenty of new relationships blossoming and the news of these relationships have been smothering any WHSer's Facebook Newsfeed in the past week.  Along with these relationship updates have been a series of angsty, pity-fiilled tweets attacking these love bugs for their happiness.  For people who feel like they deserve someone to like them, I can honestly not think of anything that is more unattractive.  I'm a firm believer in self-fulfilling prophecies and if they don't believe that any guy is ever going to like them, then I can almost guarantee no guy is ever going to like them.  It's not that they should go out and make it their prerogative to find a guy but at the same time sitting on their can sulking in their sorrows isn't doing them any good.

I know I have had my fair share of pity parties, anyone who has read my previous blogs knows that.  What really gets under my skin about all of this is how people handle this in relation to others.  I' m the queen of pep talks, I love making people feel better about themselves.  But when I spend a good chunk of my time reminding you how beautiful you are and then you respond with a message shooting it down, don't expect a response or sympathy from me. I can only play the violin at your pity party for so long. 

Following is a happy list, because lately I have just been SO HAPPY!

THINGS I LOVE THIS TIME OF YEAR OR JUST RIGHT NOW IN GENERAL:

1. Skipping through the aisles at Target wishing everyone a merry Christmas in a British accent.

2. Buying things for anyone in everyone.  I just don't feel like spending my money on me lately.

3. The smell of the Christmas tree when I'm being a load and sitting in my family room all by myself.

4. My fuzzy socks that keep my feet toasty warm in the winter.

5. Gazing adoringly at Neiman Marcus shoes that cost more than I have in my bank account (Okay I actually hate this but I love the shoes so I had to include it).

6. Making friends with whoever I meet, I just can't help but love everyone lately.

7.  My Bels sisters, I couldn't ask for a better group of people to call my family.

8. The smell of gingerbread cookies cooking in the oven.

9. Knowing that I will get to spend time with my family in less than a week and a half.

10. Knowing that I will get to see my best friend in LESS THAN A WEEK!

So to my beautiful wonderful friends, this is not meant to be a rant.  I just want you to be happy.  Boys are not the key to happiness.  Just living life the way you want to is.  The good stuff will come with time.  It always does. 

Hope

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

My faveskis poem by Emily Dickinson.

I was hoping I would have time for a happy post tonight but unfortunately I don't.  So here is a picture of someone who makes me happy.  Her name is Megan.  I told her I was going to blog about her, so here it is Megan! Thanks for having the biggest most loving sweetest beautifulest (is that a word?) heart of anyone I have ever met.  I couldn't have been more blessed to get placed next to you in choir this year <3

The Good Samaritan

Going to work with my dad on Christmas Eve is what I look forward to the most on the jolliest day of the year.  Not opening presents, or sitting by the fire watching Christmas movies, or eating delicious food (okay maybe eating delicious food tops it), but sitting in my dad's office building trying to find ways to entertain myself.  One Christmas Eve a couple years ago, I plunked myself down on the floor of my dad's office and rummaged through his desk while he made phone calls and did whatever work wealth management advisers do on Christmas.  In one drawer, I came across mugs overflowing with spare change that he had collected over the years.  Having nothing better to do, I organized the coins by value and counted how much money my dad had stashed away in his desk, forgotten for all this time.  It totaled over $200 dollars.

Being in the Christmas spirit, I hauled a small child sized bag of that change down to the first Salvation Army bucket I could find and spent the next half hour putting each and every single one of those coins in.  I think the bell ringer almost passed out in amazement.

Since then, I have given a few dollars and cents here and there, but nothing substantial.  I guiltily walk by the the bell ringers every time I see them, knowing that I have so much more than any of the people the money would go to help.  Sometimes I'm too cold, or too selfish of my time, or just too uncomfortable to contribute.  I think about how great I felt, using something that wouldn't make a difference to me to completely change a complete stranger's Christmas.  I could spare a few seconds and get that feeling again, but I don't.

Changing a complete stranger's day is one of the easiest things you can do.  It is one of those situations that can always be a win-win, leaving them maybe with a full tummy for once and you with a good feeling from helping someone out.  It's not hard, yet we rarely do it.  We choose to ignore what we can't see always but know is always there.  Why? Why do we choose to avoid something we know that will make us feel better about ourselves? It is a question that we must all answer for ourselves.  We all have our reasons, but they all have one thing in common.  They are selfish.  One minute of your time and one dollar out of your wallet barely phases you, yet it completely changes some other person's life.  Why isn't that enough? 

Just A Happy Reminder

Compassion is not a character trait like a sunny disposition.  It must be learned, and it is learned by having adversity at our windows, coming through the gates of our yards, the walls of our towns, adversity that becomes so familiar that we begin to identify and emphasize with it.

Barbara Lazear Ascher

Back To December

"Don't marry me, I'm useless."
The words my six year old cousin has scratched above the picture of me he has drawn.  The last word echoes over and over again in my head.  Useless.  Now he doesn't even know what the word means, he just thinks he is going to get a good laugh out of me.  And laugh is what I do.  Because I'm not about to scare the naive young thing by breaking the dam holding back a wave of emotions that he just took a hammer to.

Last year I wanted to die.  A year ago from next week I was going to kill myself.  I hate saying that.  Usually I can't say it. I'm cringing as I force myself to write those words.  They scream selfishness and embarrassment as they glare back at me from the page.  I'd much rather say "I was going away" or "I didn't want to be here anymore," but those phrases are vague and avoid the real truth.  It has taken me almost a year to admit to myself.  That I was ready to end not only my pain, but everything that was me, Caroline.  It didn't just hit me all of a sudden.  It was a process that gradually began to eat away at my inner being until there wasn't anything left.  I slowly retreated into the shell that I was becoming, like a dead body that decays until all that is left is a carcass.

Then there was Danny.  He was a real shit.  I wasn't exactly sunshine and rainbows myself though.  I clung to him with every piece I had left, subconsciously believing that maybe, just maybe, he could fix my pain.  If our relationship was a house, we took every flammable material we could find then covered it with gasoline and threw matches at each other, all inside this house.  How we both made it out alive, I don't know.  He was definitely closer to the door than I was.  We made it out with burns and injuries, but there was nothing left of that house but ashes.  Nothing to be salvaged.  It was my last straw.  The end of Danny was the end of me holding myself together.  It wasn't that I couldn't live without him.  It was that the one thing I still had hope in was over.  The only thing that knew the pain I was in was gone and I took it as a sign.  This monster living inside me, killing me, was going to scare away anyone that knew about it.

The pain that took over me at that point is indescribable. When I think of that night I envision acid and the devil surging through every vein in my body, torturing me.  My insides begging to come out of the body-fortress holding them in, with no chance.  Because it wasn't actually happening.  It was all in my head.

I stopped eating for a month.  I couldn't eat for a month.  Anything I tried to eat would just come back up.  So I decided I didn't want, nor need, to eat.  I dropped twenty pounds.  My pelvic bones jutted through my skin and my hands and wrists were nothing but skeletons.  My skin grew grey and gaunt.  I thought maybe if I just starved myself long enough I would disappear. Evaporate into thin air.  When everything else was out of control, I felt in control of something.

I got help.  Recently in a talk with the school counselor, she asked me how I did it.  To tell you the truth, I have no freaking idea.  When I look back at last year, all I remember is hell.  Each day, each hour, each minute was a challenge.  But somehow I did it.  There are no tricks to overcoming depression.  I still struggle with it every single day.  There are times when I look in the mirror and I see that girl from last year.  Empty. Ugly.  Useless.  But then there are days, most days, when I don't.  I look in the mirror and I see a strong, determined, confident, beautiful girl staring back at me.

It scares me.  Knowing that I'm entering the months of seasonal depression.  Knowing that the only vitamin D I will be getting will be in the form of the pills my mother shoves down my throat daily.  It scares me because all I want is to be happy.  This time around I know I'm going to be okay.  But I want to be more than okay, I want to be happy.  This is the time where I must remember all my blessings.  I have more help than I could ever imagine.  I have the most beautiful and loving family and friends that are ready to stay by my side and hold me tight in every tumble I take.  I'm succeeding in school, and I have learned to accept my abilities for what they are instead of pushing myself to be more than I could possibly achieve.  And I laugh again.  I laugh and I smile and I no longer have to be the friend that is always dependent on others.  I can now be the friend that knows exactly what to say when someone else is hurt.  I can be the one who holds it together when someone else is falling apart.  I get to be the funny girl with the weird jokes and the obnoxious laugh and not the girl who sits in the back of class, silent, singing softly to herself so she doesn't begin to cry. 

Yesterday morning, as I leaned over my backpack, holding my water bottle between my legs, and wiped the leftover tears from my eyes, Max Hanson looked up at me and said "Your vagina............ is wet."  I instantly choked on a laugh in my shock at his completely outrageous, hilarious, violating comment.  I don't know why, but in that moment as I laughed with Max, I knew, no more tears today.  How could I be upset when Max was sitting next to me cracking inappropriate jokes that really, should not be coming out of anyone's mouth? 

I'm still to scared to say some of this out loud.  Some of this I have never told anyone.  I don't want to.  These words are every raw wound I have in my body.  Some have healed up over time, forming scars where there was previously blood.  I'm writing this because I don't want anyone to feel alone.  I don't want anyone to feel how I did, like no one else in the world understood or knew what I was going through.  I held everything in for so long, and it destroyed me.  And it was almost impossible to put myself back together again. Call me Humpty Dumpty if you will. I did it though.  I have something to live for.  I have so many things to live for.  I wouldn't change one second of it.  I know who I am because of it. I found my true self.  And I am a better person for it.

My Heart Is Remarkably Similar to a Jenga Tower

As I write this, I have a dog's butt wiggling in my face, two different aunts sitting on top of me, and a killer stomach ache because I ate a mountain of ice cream even though I know it makes me sick.

Okay so it is the next day and none of this is still happening (except the stomach ache--blugh) but I enjoy the picture that went along with that last part so I'm not going to delete it.  This post was originally going to be about what I am thankful for, but, it turns out, I learned something more significant (well, significantly cheesy, if you will)about myself.  Since no one actually really reads my blog, I can feel like I told someone about it without actually really telling anyone (just because I said that TONS of people are going to read this.... hehe jokes).  To the self-proclaimed ice queen, cringe as much as you want, but props to me for blogging outside of it being an assignment.

The scenario is this: My anxiety is raging as the whole family and I sit around the dining room table playing a game of Jenga. If you don't know what Jenga is take a look at the photo to your right.  A tower is built up and everyone takes turns pulling out a block from the tower and then setting it on top.  The person to make the tower fall loses.  In short, it is incredibly tedious and nerve-racking if you are the competitive sort.  As I watch the tower become more fragile, teetering back and forth with each pull, I realize I'm watching a real-life scenario of my heart.  CRASH. The tower refuses to support one more tug and it collapses. Jenga.

My heart started off as this sturdy tower.  As life goes, shitty stuff happened, and people or things took my blocks and pulled them out.  At first the missing blocks didn't make much of a difference, but as time went on I began to wiggle and wobble back and forth precariously because my support was diminishing.  And then one day, he decided to pull the last block holding my heart together.  Or actually, I think he decided to take his fist and shoot it right through that heart of mine.  No longer was there a tower, but bits and pieces of blocks scattered across the table.  So what did I do?  I did the only thing I could.  I picked up those blocks and I put that tower back together.  All sturdy and new... well almost.  Those blocks still have dents and bruises and those blocks still remember the last time they were pulled apart.  So I keep going and going every day and people pull at my blocks and I can't stop them because it isn't my turn.  I rebuild and I learn.  I strategize on how to protect those blocks from getting pulled. How to keep the dog from chewing on the pieces that have already been taken.  And I remember, that even if my tower falls again, I can still rebuild it. Always.

We're Not 'In a Relationship,' But We Seem To Have a Relationship.

one. It can be classified as a connection, association, or involvement.  A connection between persons by blood or marriage.  An emotional or other connection between people.  Or a sexual involvement.  While all of these different facts make up a relationship, they have one more thing in common: They all require living things.  If you really thought about it, would you consider yourself to have a relationship with your favorite chair or your favorite food?  Or would you be more inclined to say you have a relationship with your mom or your dog?  When it comes down to it, a relationship requires two beings linked together in some sort of way.

Sometimes you have to get to know someone really well to realize you're really strangers.

Mary Tyler Moore

two. In my mind, I thought relationships, as in "We're exclusive" and "We have feelings for each other," was more than sitting in the basement and making out.  I thought it was what I had with, we'll call him Conrad Dobler (My dad's nickname for 'THAT boy').  My idea of "going on a date" was going and doing something fun together.  We watched movies that we both really wanted to see.  We placed bets on our one-on-one pick-up basketball games we played.  And he kissed me.  And not in an “I want to get in your panties” sort of way but in a respectful “I’m doing this being I like you” sort of way.  And apparently that relationship we had was just a friendship.  Excuse me for getting the wrong idea.  So really what is a relationship?  Because I have plenty of relationships with people, heck, I have a relationship with every single person I know.  But my real question is, what makes two people “In a Relationship,” as we call it these days?  Because that relationship I had sure as hell wasn’t like my relationship with any of my other “friends.”

I think a relationship is like a shark. It has to constantly move forward or it dies.

Woody Allen

three. In relationships you have two options.  You can either choose to put yourself first, or you can choose to put the other person first.  For a relationship to be truly successful and healthy, both people must put the other first.  Unfortunately this is not the natural inclination for most.  Putting the other person first isn’t always the easiest choice, most of the time it is the hardest.  People act selfish and cowardly.  They think only of how the relationship is benefiting them and ignore how it is hurting the other person.  Anthony Hopkins once said "Some of the biggest challenges in relationships come from the fact that most people enter a relationship in order to get something. They're trying to find someone who's going to make them feel good. In reality, the only way a relationship will last is if you see your relationship as a place that you go to give, and not a place that you go to take." Relationships are about give and take.  They might not always be what you want them to be, but for them to work it is a necessity that both parties involved give more than they take.

Personal relationships are the fertile soil from which all advancement...all success... all achievement in real life grows.

Ben Stein

four. Relationships begin by meeting.  Meeting by chance or meeting by plan.  A bond is instantly formed, sometimes wearing away over time or growing stronger until it reaches a point where it will never be broken.  With each subsequent meeting, the relationship is enhanced and defined.  The definition of each different relationship is unique, because of every relationship is different, like the patterns on your skin or the sequence of your DNA.  Each enhancement can be positive or negative but nevertheless it still engraves the relationship’s definition even deeper into stone. They make up who we are. What relationships leave us with is a broad range of feelings.  They can make us unbelievably happy or unbelievably sad.  Sometimes we’re proud, guilty, brave, disappointed, resentful, strong, or a whole long list of other infinite possible feelings.
 

Our greatest joy-and our greatest pain comes in our relationships with others.

Stephen R. Covey

five. Family.  Friends.  Lovers.  These are really the three main types of positive relationships.  Family includes the relationships you don't get to choose.  They are instilled from birth and never vanish.  It is the only relationship that is capable of unconditional love.  Friends are the relationships you get to choose.  It seems like friendships are typically the easiest relationships to have because for some reason they bring out the best in us more than anything else.  Relationships with lovers are the most volatile.  They evoke the most intense emotions in us.   We hurt the most for them and we care the most for them yet they seem to last the longest.

You can kiss your family and friends good-bye and put miles between you, but at the same time you carry them with you in your heart, your mind, your stomach, because you do not just live in a world but a world lives in you.

Frederick Buechner

six. It smells like your boyfriend’s cologne.  It sounds like your friend’s favorite song.  It feels like grandma rubbing your back until you fall asleep when she visits.  It tastes like your aunt’s turkey on Thanksgiving.  It looks like the picture of your first time on the Wild Thing with your brother.  The five senses of relationships are defined by the reminders of the people in our life.  It’s when you rub your own granddaughter’s back years later and remember your grandma, when you look at the picture and remember your brother, when you sit down for Thanksgiving dinner and remember your aunt.

ANSWER KEY:
1. Definition
2. Narration
3. Argument/Persuasion
4. Cause/Effect
5. Classification/Division
6. Example

If Music Be The Food Of Love, Play On

Music.  Sometimes it seems like it is the only thing that understands me.  There are all these songs out there that describe exactly what I'm feeling even when I can't.  I was thinking about rhetorical analysis, and I realized songs are arguments wrapped up in three minutes filled with voice and style and tone. Basically like an argument burrito.  Everything really is an argument.


If you think about it, music could be the most effective argument there is.  It's pleasing to our ears, we want to hear it.  The lyrics are packed with events or feelings we can relate to, building the argument's believability/credibility.  They pull on our emotions.  We laugh. We cry. We smile. We rage.  And all of this we do with music. 


Looking through my iPod I noticed the majority of my songs were about love.  I think plenty of people could look through their own playlists and say the same.  Why?  I think people's lives are centered around love.  Giving it.  Receiving it. Losing it.  Sometimes we have no idea how to put it into words and when we find that perfect way to verbalize it we want to scream it to everyone so the whole world knows or we just want to keep it to ourselves as our own little secret.   


Love is all about support.  Loving means supporting.  Losing love leaves you in need of support.  Music offers us a different kind of support.  It supports us by finding our feelings, even if there are no words.  It supports us by showing we aren't alone. 


It all ends up going back to being an argument.  Music is about love.  Love is about supporting.  Good arguments need support. 

Hey Sexy Lady, I Wanna Get To Know Ya

When was the last time you turned on a mainstream music station or television channel and didn't see something to do with sex or alcohol?  For me, I can't even remember.  When we walk into a store, go to a school dance, or simply sit at home and watch TV, there is typically some type of song that involves getting really shwasted, getting lots of poon (action), or grinding hard booties.  If Pitbull and Britney have sex with lots of people, that means it is okay for me to do that too, right?  These musical "artists," whether we want to admit it or not, are our role models.  They are the people we look to for examples.  It isn't because we think they are really awesome people and should follow in their footsteps to lead a good Samaritan life. It's because in our eyes, they are success.  They make all this money by taking their clothes off for the camera and singing about it.  We think "Wow. That sure is much easier than doing my homework!"  I'm not trying to say that we see all these nakey, thrusting bodies and think that if we take our clothes off and get kinky we will be really successful in life too.  That is not the case.  What we see is what used to be risque.  But then these "stars" came and pushed the envelope (dying metaphor, I know) and they got away with it.  People said, "Hey! They're cool!" Gradually, people began to accept the shedding of clothing and movement into highly explicit lyrics.  No longer was it taboo to get drunk and hook up with some random guy.  So now we are at a point where chicks go naked in the slammer (Lady Gaga and Beyonce -- Telephone), men sing about the lack of respect they have for women (E=MC Vagina), and those intimate details from last night? Yeah he told everyone (David Banner -- Play).  These videos are supposed to be entertaining and funny, but really, would you be able to watch them with your grandma?

Consider the possibility that these desensitized values were here in the first place and these artists just came along and broadcasted them.  In all reality, this is highly unlikely.  The music business is all about the future, finding what type of music is new and innovative.  What haven't people seen or heard before.  They've created this acceptance of degradation.  The media is the necessary tool for spreading far and wide this new frontier of sexuality. How else would a whole ideal be so omnipresent in our country and accepted?

Food Snob... Kind Of

Salutations! A warm hello to everyone!

SO the goal of this blog post is for my inner voice to be heard... If I only I had time to blog when I actually had things on my mind that I wanted to blog about.  My brain is kind of spastic and I can go from thinking about garbage trucks to Mariah Carey (okay so I guess those are kind of similiar) in like a millisecond. Yeah, THAT fast.

To the right you will see my dinner last night.  I'm getting giddy looking at it.  Seriously, if you haven't tried it, you are missing out on something better than true love.  Maybe I should tell you what it is... this glorious creation sent from Heaven is the BLVD Royale burger with cheese.  That is, stacked with american cheese, caramelized onion, frizzled onion, on a pretzel bun.

Something to know about me: I love good food more than I love cute boys.  THAT IS SERIOUSLY SAYING SOMETHING.  Unfortunately for me, really spectacular food is hard to find in this place we live in called the Twin Cities.Therefore, I feel the need to share with everyone some of my favorites.

• Pepito's Restaurant
• Broders'
• Chino Latino
• Jake O' Connor's
• BLVD Kitchen & Bar
• Black Sheep Coal Fired Pizza 

I have really only barely touched the surface of my food obsession for you dear followers (aka Ms. Cardona and my dad) but I hope you enjoyed your little glimpse into my wacked out brain.  According to spell check, 'wacked' is not a word.  Well you know what I say about that? 'Wacked' is a word in my world.  Okay back to my purpose, I'm starting to get a handle on this whole blogging thing and saying "Fuggit! I'll say what I want!"  I don't need to be so concerned about embarrassing myself on this thing because, hey, no one even reads it anyway! So here you go:  I love food!

Holy Fuzzy Socks

It's like when someone tells you to put on your "thinking cap." I just put on my fuzzy socks.  Yeah, they don't have magical powers or anything but I'm a creature of habit.  Everyday after school when I get home, the first thing I do is change into comfy clothes.  This means putting on my fuzzy socks of course! My sisters and mom think they are embarrassing and told me not to wear them around the guy I like.  So I wore them on my date Friday night.  I'm all about staying true to myself, and hey, if he doesn't appreciate the socks then he isn't worth it anyway.  NOW that I have gotten completely off topic about dates and boys (don't be too surprised) maybe I should get back to my writing process.  Okay so next, I check my Facebook and Twitter about a gazillion times until I can convince myself that nothing exciting has happened since the last time I refreshed the page 30 seconds ago.  Nothing exciting is going to happen in the future.  So I go and stare at the pictures of hot guys that I creep routinely for another good five minutes and then it is time to GET DOWN TO BUSINESS.  I need my cup of water because for some reason my mouth always gets really dry when I write for a long time, which speaking of, I'll be right back, got to grab a cup of water.............................................................  I'm back.  Oh my god get ready for this because Ms. Cardona taught me it..... I just write.  If I think about it, I'll get about one sentence written in two hours.  I just write whatever comes to my mind.  Sometimes it doesn't come out in full sentences.  A lot of the time it should be in its own paragraph, maybe its own paper.  But that is the beauty of copying, and cutting, and pasting.  I just spew my ideas.  Then I can go back and say "I can develop this" or "I could write a paragraph focused solely on this."  From there I fine-tune. Clean up the rough edges.  It is still rough, REALLY rough.  But I'm going somewhere, and I know where I am going. Soon enough, okay no, lots of time later, I have a finished product that hopefully I'm proud of.  If this class has taught me anything it is that there is not time to worry about grades.  The only thing I can worry about is doing my best.  So maybe my best is a C, I can live with that knowing that I did my best and I least tried to figure it out.  It still sucks, but life goes on.  It isn't like I'm not going to go to college because I got a C on my rhetorical analysis paper in 11th grade.

Rhetorical Analysitis

Hello fellow bloggers! This will be my first (and hopefully only) blog from my phone! Anyways...

My brain is being taken over by rhetorical analysis. I swear it is like a virus that is rapidly multiplying and eating away at my insides until everything around me has been completely rhetorically analified. I am turning into a rhetorical analysis robot.

On Friday, I had my first college tour in Madison. Sitting there, I started twitching at every logical fallacy and rhetorical appeal that spewed from my speaker's mouth. And then to make things worse, I started processing to what extent the devices he was using were effective. I thought this weekend was supposed to be a break from school, but apparently it is stalking me everywhere I go.

I know the fact that I'm noticing all of this should make me feel like I'm making progress but really all I feel is even more lost. I recognize all this rhetoric like its screaming my name in a silent room but it is still beyond me how I'm supposed to put my thoughts into words that make sense and explain the point I am trying to make. I read one sentence of my rhetorical analysis essay and I see five different devices. How am I supposed to pick which is the most effective? How am I supposed to organize a paper that isn't just a jumbled bunch of thoughts?

I need to take a step back and utilize my thoughts. I need to acknowledge that I know what rhetorical devices are and how they appear because that is an accomplishment in itself. I need to sit down and have a good long review session of everything I have learned in class so far. Then I will be able to breathe and say, "Hey, I can do this!" And then maybe, just maybe, rhetorical analysis and I can be friends again.

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Bad Stuff, Don't Do It.

Okay so I know if someone gets me started I could go on for forever and ever. I'm going to try and condense it.

The dress code.  If someone looks like they are going to work the street after school, I get it.  But are you really going to make me change because my shorts are a little shorter than my fingertips? Hello! I have really long arms!

Grinding.  It's straight up raunchy. Okay so this is coming from the girl who is uncomfortable with holding her boyfriend's hand in public, but still.  Would you give your boyfriend a handie in front of everyone at the dance? I would hope not.  I don't see the difference between a handie and grinding when it's just your butt doing the same work. 

Sluts.  I hate how all these girls think they have to advertise their vagina like it's a festival.  We are in high school, there should not be ANY kind of festival going on down there.  You should want a guy to like who you are as a person, not for your goods.  If he doesn't see how beautiful you really are, it's his loss not yours.  Move on

Texting.  I'm definitely guilty of this one but I have to say it.  If I'm trying to have a conversation with you, put the phone away.  It's disrespectful and it seems like you could care less about what I have to say.

PDA. STOP PRIVATES ARE FOR PRIVATE TIME ENOUGH SAID.

Fake girls. Stop talking behind my back and say what you have to say TO MY FACE. I wish girls were like boys where they just punched each other when they were pissed.

Lying.  I don't care if the truth hurts.  It hurts more to know you lied.

People who hate on the Packers.  It's just unattractive.  Yeah, I don't like the Vikings. Do I need to go around broadcasting it and trying to make people feel bad about liking them? No.  If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it at all.

People who are overly sarcastic.  It actually hurts my feelings.  You can joke around without being mean and it is a whole lot funnier.

People with gross hair.  Brush it. Wash it. Do whatever you need to do so it doesn't look like something is living in there.

Pimples.  I know this is so gross, but when people have big juicy zits that are about to blow you just need to pop it.

Taylor Swift Haters. She is brilliant. Just accept it. 

Okay so this could be so much longer but I don't need to be in a rant-y mood for the rest of the night so I'm going to stop where I am.

Congrats, You Don't Have a Life

In middle school I was really smart.  I didn't have to try that hard and I knew I would still get an A.  I watched as my friends struggled with school and I didn't get it, it was just so easy to me.  Then came high school.  Suddenly classes weren't so easy.  I actually had to study for my tests and my homework took a lot longer than 20 minutes.  Everyday I felt like I wasn't good enough, like I wasn't smart enough.  Because school was harder, so was planning my social life and playing sports.  There wasn't time to hang with friends after school and on top of a long school day I had basketball for two hours afterwords. I saw Two Million Minutes for the first time last year in Honors Communication.  Watching it for a second time made just as mad as I was the first time I watched it.  Here I am, working my butt off, and Robert Compton has to come along and throw it all down the shitter.  I'm happy as I am, and I don't want to be like any of those Chinese and Indian kids.  My life is about so much more than school.  There is plenty of ways I can be successful without secluding myself to my household trying to become some kind of genius. I mean, what kind of life is that? The beauty of America is that we have the freedom to do what we want.  So our kids aren't as 'smart' as the kids in India and China.  Not everyone can be.  In those countries, if you aren't smart enough to get a good job your life is pretty much down the drains.  Sports are a huge part of most Americans lives and this is portrayed as a bad thing.  I don't see how sports can be so bad when they give kids opportunities they can't get with school.  Sports keep kids out of drugs. They get people to work together.  There are kids who aren't smart enough to succeed in life but they are athletic enough to make it to the pro level.  No one's life should be defined by their intelligence level and how hard they study.  Life is about things you don't learn in school.  Are you going to look back on your life and think "Wow I really liked that girl because she was so smart," or are you more likely to look back and think "Wow I really liked her because she was so nice?" I'm proud of the people in my country.  So we are different than India and China. Big deal.  I'm not giving up my life and who I am as a person for a couple extra hours of studying. No thank you.  We all have the freedom to work as hard as we want.  People will be who they want to be, if that's a Yale graduate, great, if it's singer, that's great, too.

Thanks Steve

Thursday night my dad threw a pile of papers at me with a single instruction: "Read."  Anytime one decides to take on the challenge of printing from our devil printer, it is for a very important reason.  What followed was the text to one of Steve Job's most famous and influential speeches, his Commencement Speech at Stanford in 2005.  As soon as Mrs. Cardona announced in class on Friday that our blog posts could be on anything we wanted, I knew immediately that this speech is what I wanted to write about.  So sitting down this morning to write, I realize, oh crap, it's a speech.  And then not only, "Oh crap, it's a speech," but ohhhhh crap, there is a video that goes along with it.  So I'm guessing right now Mrs. Cardona is thinking "Yeah Caroline! More practice for rhetorical analysis!" And I'm thinking "Really Caroline? Look at the hole you have dug for yourself. You think your weekend will be brain-pain free without any of that silly analyzing Cardona is always making you do and then you have to go and find a speech to blog about."  I've decided however that maybe, just maybe, I can use this blog post to somewhat, hopefully, redeem just a little bit of my dignity after butchering my Jesse Jackson analysis paper in class on Friday.  
Ever yelled at your computer and then awkwardly realized nothing was going to happen because, well, it's a computer?  I'm definitely guilty.  The biggest thing that Steve Jobs did WRONG was his failure to make eye contact with his audience.  The majority of the speech Jobs stared down at his podium, reading off his script. This is BAD BAD BAD! If I have learned anything in this class it's that if you are looking to put someone to sleep, just read off exactly what you have written down.  I was so disappointed when I watched this video because the transcript was SO good and Jobs's delivery and body language was atrocious.  Okay, that is all the hating I will do on Steve Jobs because he is Steve Jobs, basically the creator of the modern world.  As follows are my two favorite quotes from the speech:


"Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart."


"Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary."


I know these two quotes are the reason my dad gave me this speech to read and they relate to two major periods of time in my life. 


When I was five, my dad was diagnosed with cancer and it almost killed him.  When that kind of thing happens, it really changes your perspective on life.  Last year, I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder.  The last thing I was thinking about was being positive.  Jobs's speech was just a reminder of how important it is to be happy. It is okay to be selfish sometimes.  You have to do what is best for you and you can't be afraid to take risks.  Life is short and you only get one of them so you have to make the best of it.  I know everyone has heard this same kind of thing a million times, but when you have faced death or hit rock bottom because you are so sad, these kind of words really stand out.  My dad was saved, and rededicating his life to being happy was the choice he made.  As my parent, he is teaching me this same life lesson.  Be brave and be true to yourself.  As Jobs's says, "There is no reason not to follow your heart."

Rhetorical Analysis

On Wednesday, Obama spoke to students across America on the topic of school.  He stressed the importance of today's students as tomorrow's future.  "Whether we fall behind or race ahead in the coming years is up to you."  He places a lot of responsibility on students but because of his delivery it does not come off as telling them what to do as much as it comes off as encouraging students to WANT to be the best they can be.

Obama's speech was well-written but it didn't appear as he had rehearsed it over and over so many times that it lost its meaning.  Rather than reading off what he had to say, he spoke as if he was talking to one individual person, giving them advice.  He chose diction that students would be able to understand and want to listen to.  He seemed comfortable, using hand gestures to emphasize his points.  His words were delivered with feeling, like he really believed in what he was saying.  This all emphasized his credibility. 

Obama does a good job of gaining trust with his audience.  He relates to all kids and teenagers when he acknowledges that they have "a lot on their plate."  He knows that friend, family, and money problems are omnipresent in student lives and the influence of online social networking sites is more powerful than ever.  Because of these appeals, the audience is more likely to listen to him since it feels like he knows what else is going on in their lives but is still able to apply his advice.

The logical appeals Obama used his speech strengthened his argument strongly.  He brought up the fact that the U.S. went from having the highest proportion of college graduates to the population to be being ranked sixteenth.  This creates competition, making students want to work harder to be number one.  He stated that in the next decade, more than 60% of jobs will require a college degree.  The main purpose of these statistics was to encourage students even more to work in school by showing how it will pay off.

America, the Hypocritical

1935 Germany: Marriages between Jews and citizens of German or kindred blood are forbidden. Marriages concluded in defiance of this law are void, even if, for the purpose of evading this law, they were concluded abroad.
1911 Nebraska: Marriages are void when one party is a white person and the other is possessed of one-eighth or more negro, Japanese, or Chinese blood.

I don't understand.  I don't understand how anyone with a conscience can argue that because of someone's skin color, or religion, or sexual orientation, they don't deserve equality.  I don't understand how our country can stand up and say that Hitler's discrimination violated human rights when parallel laws in America were enforced long before and long after Hitler's Nuremberg laws.  How can Americans criticize the Germans for their medical experiments on Jews but defend the fact that it was okay for them to extract cells and experiment on blacks such as Henrietta Lacks and others?  What is even more confusing is that racism is still alive and well today in America.  This summer some family friends came up to visit from Arkansas.  Collette, the guidance counselor at her children's school in Little Rock, told me that she heard from white parents regularly complaining about "those black kids" causing trouble and how they wanted them removed from the school.  It's not just in the South either.  The other day I was brought to tears as my black friend told me about the horrendous comments he gets every day for the color of his skin.   I don't understand that a country that started as a refuge for those who were discriminated against, that fought for independence and equality for all people, and throughout its history has fought for the equality and freedom of other people around the world, can't even represent and fulfill its "so-called" values.  I simply don't understand.

The Fence Post That Had Scrambled Eggs For Breakfast.

What if Annie Dillard read William Kennedy's story about eggs? She would tell him "All things in the world were interesting, infinitely interesting, so long as you had attention to give them."  I wonder if Annie Dillard's advice would lead William Kennedy's story about eggs to become interesting.  So then I thought, "What is the most boring thing I can come up with and make it interesting?" The first thought that came to mind was the ever-cliche phrase associated with boredom: "watching paint dry."  I immediately pictured a white fence, freshly painted on a bright sunny day.  Though it was a satisfying image, what made it interesting?  So then I thought what if one fence post grew legs and a face formed, smiling at its new-found abilities and laughing at all the other fence posts that could not do anything except stay stuck in the ground?  The fence post would hop away dripping paint as he found his way to the same diner that Kennedy's man ordered scrambled eggs at.  The fence post would then slip onto the bar stool next to the man eating scrambled eggs and ordered the same thing.  The counterman would be so shocked that a wet fence post was sitting at his counter that he would forget to even recommend the goulash and serve the fence post the scrambled eggs he had ordered.  The fence post would eat, pay, and leave, leaving a big white-paint-fence-post-butt-mark on his stool. This image, unexpected, yes, but still boring and forgettable.
Reading all these short stories just emphasized the most important thing about writing that I have learned in AP Comp in two weeks: that writing requires emotion and personality.  Eudora Welty says a writer should not write about what he knows but what he doesn't know about he knows.  So combine this with Annie Dillard's advice and you have the ultimate guiding light of writing, right? Mix emotion and Welty and Dillard all up like it's my grandma's stuffing on Thanksgiving and shove it up that uncooked turkey that is a piece of paper, just waiting to be filled with interesting.  Kennedy knows the man went to the diner to eat eggs, but why? Would he go there every Sunday for breakfast eggs with his Pa, but now Pa is gone? Then make the reader feel his pain and sadness.  Why did the counterman want the man to order goulash instead?  Had he slaved over it all morning, perfecting it, just hoping someone would order and praise it? Then write about that.  Writing takes time, you have to go beyond what you know to find what makes it interesting.  The writing that sticks with people is the writing that makes them feel.  You want them to cry, and laugh, and scream at your words because that is what makes writing memorable, and that, is what makes writing interesting.

Why I Write

If George Orwell was to ask me "Why do you, Caroline Close, write?" I wouldn't be able to answer him right away.  When it comes down to it, there is not one single reason why I write, which I think is the same for almost everyone.  Sometimes, writing feels like a requirement.  I have to write for the teacher when I'd rather tell him/her in words or I have to write my point down in words because I don't know how I would say it out loud.  I think the main reason I write though is what Orwell has coined "aesthetic enthusiasm."  When I write, its all about sharing what I think is important in the world.  Writing is my way of remembering without missing out on any detail.  Writing is my way of telling everyone exactly what I think without them having to know at all.  Writing is my refuge from the storm of my emotions when I'm afraid they might take over.  Writing is my passionate love affair with words that makes other people on the outside cringe and it is the evolution of me as I grow, learn, and mature.  I write because sometimes there is no other way to express me.  Writing makes me feel smart, passionate, and proud.