Stressful Thinking

Have you guys checked out the Blackberry Q10 yet? It's a beautiful thing, and I want it as opposed to the crappy Huawei Ascend I am currently in possession of. I know I probably sound bratty, whining about owning an Android that crashes every app and has terrible internal storage issues and doesn't support my music files, but we're all entitled to our own opinions. (This is relevant, just wait.)

Fact: I am not one to stress. I always take a breather and figure things out.

Fact: I have been stressing more and more lately.

All my life, money has been pretty tight. It's unfortunate sometimes, but at least I know a little bit about how to be good with money. Ever since I've gotten my job, I've paid for the things I've needed and wanted to make things a little easier for my mom. A cell phone and service, my coffee habit, and the obscene amount of hair mousse I need to tame the beast that would otherwise be an Afro atop my head. From toothpaste to school supplies, I cover most of my own needs. On waitress's pay, what's left over after needs isn't a whole lot.

Another fact? I have been worrying myself sick over budgeting the things I'll need this spring. Cap and gown. Senior yearbook. Portraits. Invitations. A graduation party. College books. A laptop. And then there are the things I need from day to day. The thing that tops my list right now (that Blackberry Q10 and a contract plan). After all of this, there's no money or time of day for any of the other things I want (like vocal lessons, or new shoes, or better headphones). I generally budget, but it's getting extreme and I have to make some crucial decisions now before I come up short when college rolls around.

Another peak in my stress today was my Anatomy homework. I'm sure the questions asked on our lab assignment were basic follow-up questions after a lab, but I couldn't answer them. I even had a hard time with the vocabulary. I thought "If I am having this hard of a time with high school Anatomy, how am I supposed to handle college courses?" What if I end up wasting my money on classes I can't pass? Truthfully, the science assignments stressed me out so much that I bought a cone of Buttered Pecan Blue Bell and closed every book I had. I just sat.

If I learned one thing today, it's that ice cream relieves stress. If I learned another thing, it's that I should listen to that little voice in my head. The little voice that is telling me not to worry. I kind of believe it.

Are these big girl problems?
Cayla xx

P.S. I couldn't post last night because Blogger wouldn't open. I wasn't neglecting anything, guys. Promise.

I Had a VERY Emotional Experience

If anyone's disappointed that I didn't write last night, don't be. I'm not. I feel like it happened for a reason. Like I fell asleep before I remembered I had a responsibility because something amazing was going to happen the next day. It's like God knew. What I'm about to tell you is fresh. I'm still crying about it, although not sobbing as I was thirty minutes ago.

When I came into work, I was not feeling one hundred percent. I was hormonal, PMS-y, and angry. I wanted to curl up into a ball and wallow rather than work my butt off all night. While I was sweeping the dining room upon my arrival, the restaurant's phone rang. I didn't even try to sound happy. "Thank you for calling Little City Grill. This is Cayla. How may I help you?" Not chirpy. Not sweet. It was slow and monotonous as if to say, "Please hand up and never call back" to whoever was on the other line. I felt bad when it was my mom on the phone.

"Hey, Cayla, it's your mom." She told me she was going to send a woman to my job to eat, and to get her whatever she needed and foot the bill. She said she'd pay me back later. I was sure it was someone homeless or malnourished, and when ten minutes passed, I was afraid this woman was dead on the side of the road.

When she finally got into the restaurant, she was terrified. If she was so afraid, I wonder what possessed her to trust my mom to come to my job in the first place. She was carrying a forty-four ounce cup of water that my mother bought her, and she was unsure of what to do when she came through the door. I sat her down and gave her a menu. She told me she couldn't read, and asked me if I'd read it to her.

I had already cried when I got off the phone with my mom, and I was trying not to when I was taking her order. She kept asking if we had mashed potatoes, and I knew she was hungry. (I mean really hungry.) I told her our chicken fried steak was good and got her two orders of mashed potatoes. By then, my heart was broken.

She told me that she had been walking four days and nights, trying to get to Austin. She said she was in a bad relationship and her ex beat her and left her for dead. She said that a nice couple picked her up and drove her here from the next town over and gave her five dollars (the same five dollars my mom told her not to spend at the convenience store before she sent the woman to me). She said all she wanted was to get a job in Austin and start her life again.

She ate, she was so polite and nice, and she didn't ask me for anything. I kept waiting on her anyway. I kept trying not to cry in front of customers, but I couldn't control the tearflow and had to go to the employee bathroom to get my emotions under control.

My coworker and good friend, Dylan, called the police and EMS. I was so upset with him. I didn't want this sweet 47 year old woman to go to jail for being homeless. She never asked for anything, and hadn't done anything wrong as far as I had seen. A beat later, the dining room was swarming with officers of the law and medical proffesionals. I was overwhelmed.

So, of course, I called my mom. She left her job to come see me and she took me outside and told me that it was okay. She hugged me and let me stain her work-shirt with tears. She patted my head and rocked me back and forth and kept saying "Oh, it's alright, baby. Hey, it's going to be okay." I wish I could have held it together, but my mom certainly helped me from falling completely apart.

The woman kept saying to my mom and me, "Are they going to take me to jail?" It's a funny thing when a seventeen year old encounters a situation like this. The woman was not mentally sound. She was paranoid. I have never in my life met a person like this. I didn't start crying again, much to my surprise. I took a deep breath and reassured her. What I said was true. They wanted her off of the streets and they wanted to help. I asked the officers if they could notify me of her well being when thing turned out for her. I wanted to see the ending, and I prayed for the best.

The officer said he found her mother and would even drive the woman to her mother's house if it meant she'd be off of the streets. When he told her this, she said she didn't want help. She said not to bother her family. At that point, my mom made me leave.

Well, I just called our police department, and they told me she left. That because she refused help, there was nothing they could do. I cried some more.

While we were there, everyone in this tiny Christian town said "God brought her to Thrall for a reason." Truthfully, after learning she refused help, I wonder what that reason is.

Life is a tearful mystery.
Cayla xx

This just in, the police officer from the Grill followed the woman and got a call from her niece. Apparently, she has a brain tumor and she missed an appointment to get it drained. She started wandering and wasn't in her right frame of mind because of the pressure. She's spending the night at Seaton, and tomorrow, her family is getting to take her home. The police officer stopped by my mom's job because he saw me crying and he wanted to follow through. That meant so much to me. I'd lost hope for her and had a hell of a day and just when I felt more like wallowing, I'd gotten great news. The officer thanked me and said that keeping the woman at the restaurant and Dylan calling the police probably saved this woman's life.

I still feel really good. Now I get why God put this woman in my life. To show me my own compassion and to help someone. To impact my life in such a way I'll never forget.

This was a crazy, emotionally draining day.

Peace out, homedog.

I Cried Tears of Joy Today

Hey, guys! I see that some of us are back for another sarcastic, well worded teenagery blog post. May I just say, "Thank you"? Anyone who reads this rocks. Anyone who reads it regularly has my gratitude.

So, tonight, I'm not going to write about boys or potheads or deep philosophical things. Tonight, I'm going to wing it, which isn't saying much, considering I always do.

Today, I woke up on the wrong side of bed. I even felt Moody walking to the store and getting my coffee. I was being that outwardly mean, hide-inside-of-my-shell Cayla that I try so hard not to be. In art today, I actually asked one of my friends "If you're embarrassed that we're immature, why do you even sit with us?" I didn't have a filter, and as soon as I thought it, I said it. As soon as I said it, I regretted it. I apologized and told her I didn't mean it and that I was being pissy. Luckily, she understood. (I don't have very many moments like this, but to be my friend, you can't take it too personally when I do.) I even told an athlete in Government yesterday that high school was going to be his "glory years" and I felt terrible about that immediately as well. (Thumbs down gesture) I've got to watch what I say or I'll push all of my classmates away again this year. Can't have that, now can we?

Today, when I was working, I got a wonderful surprise. I saw my ex-coworker's son and daughter playing on the porch of the restaurant, and I was instantly ecstatic. Stacy was back. Stacy and I waitressed together when I first got my job, and she was the one who trained me. I was glad to learn that she was about as fun-loving as I am, and we instantly became friends. Unfortunately, when the summer started, she moved to Dallas and I hadn't heard much from her at the time.

Today, I saw Mariah and Isaac and literally walked out of the dining room, into the parking lot and started hugging Stacy and crying. I have missed her so much since she left. All I ever talk about at work is what Stacy and I used to do, or how much fun she and I had. When I pulled away from the hug, I laughed because she was crying too. She chuckled, wiped her eyes and said "Man, Cay. You've got me crying too." I knew Stacy missed me a bunch, and I'm getting to hang out with her and the kids tomorrow before I work. (Is it weird that she's twenty-eight? No, not really. This is me, guys.)

I'm completely looking forward to being able to hang out with a great friend of mine. I'm looking forward to my classes tomorrow. I'm looking forward to my morning coffee and smiling a lot and making my friends laugh. Today was a great day, despite my negative attitude this morning. But I guess we have to accentuate the positive, or how would we survive?

This one made me smile the entire time I typed it,
Cayla xx

P.S. A customer saw my Texas State University T-shirt and thought I graduated last year. I said "If I graduated last year, I would have been one of the few that didn't go to UMHB (University of Mary Hardin-Baylor)." He looked at me and said "Oh, I know who you're taking about." OKAY, I can't have a crush on a guy without the whole town knowing, even if I crush quietly. Sad, yes? Not as sad as when I asked him if there was anyone that didn't know and he replied "No, not really."

P.P.S. I actually talked politics with a customer, so when he "checked-in" on Facebook, he said that he's glad he can have intellectual conversations in addition to good food. You're welcome, sir. Just doing my job.

P.P.P.S. I have to wake up super early, so goodnight. Hope you all enjoyed.

Set Your Goals Acoustics, Lunch Tables, and Crack Coffee: The First Day Of Senior Year

Guys. First off, I just spent about an hour downloading Paramore acoustics that I didn't know existed. I even managed to find one by Set Your Goals, and I know I'm gonna love it. They just can't make bad songs.

On another note, today was the first day of my last year in high school. It's early on to say this, but it's pretty bittersweet. I'm excited to be graduating, but skipping town is going to be hard to do. I feel like a lot of us felt that way today. I do, however, think today set the tone for my year, and it's going to be a good one.

When I got to school, I got there with a cup of coffee, like I always do. Much to my surprise, Mrs. Strnad (I gave up my off period for her yearbook) told me I had to drink it before I got into the classroom. (I used to drink coffee in yearbook all the time last year.) Anyway, I ended up finishing the coffee in three painful gulps, and got an instant stomachache and the shakes. ("I know what Cayla did this summer!" Crack. Get it? Crack? Because I was shaking? Okay, nevermind.) I got into the class and saw Eli, one of my best friends. I hadn't seen him all summer and I'd forgotten how much I missed him. We sat next to each other, and I spent the whole time cracking jokes and making him laugh. I couldn't help but think "It's good to be back" during the entire duration of the class.

I met my new history teacher, and he's super laid back. He was calm the entire class, and spent the first day talking about himself and getting to know us a bit. I found out he's an Aries (it wouldn't be a day if it didn't involve astrology.) He was a cool dude, and I'm pretty sure I won't have any trouble with him or his class. (Not to say I'm over Coach Fowler leaving right before my senior year, because I'm not. I wish she was teaching me again this year. Also, isn't it funny how one Aries teacher is replaced by another Aries. Yeah, he'll fit in nicely.)

Pre-AP Pre-Calculus was difficult, just as I thought it would be, and Mr. Van Gendht tried to teach us on the first day, just as I thought he would. He actually said he was retiring this winter, and I was disappointed. His classes have been the greatest academic obstacle in my high school career, but I'll definitely miss my adorable, elderly Dutch math teacher.

And then there was Mr. George. Ahhhh, Mr. George. He is my new Anatomy and Physiology instructor. Dude, this guy is serious about some science (and not in the fun way like Coach Holland or Mr. Burgard). He actually typed up our entire year's vocabulary, and mapped out the entire school year's lesson plan (with start and finish dates) to give to us today. He told us we'd have to study super hard to pass, and we'd have to spend two to three hours a week outside of his class studying or else we wouldn't do well. It's almost like college, and I'm thankful for the preparation. BUT, I do have a small case of senioritis, and a part of me wants to blow him off. I know I won't, because I want to do well this year, but I can't help but think this class would be enjoyable if Mr. Burgard were teaching it.

At lunch, we sat at our table from last year, and half of my friends said they wanted to move. At my school, seniors generally sit closer to the stage, and we're sitting pretty far away from it again this year. The other seniors assumed their positions, and some of my friends wanted to tag along. Half of us wanted to stay. (Okay, what's the point of following a tradition if it makes me uncomfortable? I want to sit with my friends, not with all of my classmates. I don't know a lot of them, and I don't see myself getting to know too many of them. I was comfortable in my spot today.) It actually became an argument. It's not a huge deal to me, so we all said we'd try to sit there tomorrow. It's times like these that I don't enjoy having extremely social friends.

And, finally, I got out of school and hung out a bit with Eli. We had a talk with our classmate, Garrett, and I realized today that I completely misjudged him. He's actually a cool dude and I hope we can be friends this year. Eli and I had a good talk, and I missed hanging out with him all over again. It's a great thing I have such great friends and good people in my life. I'm thankful.

It's gonna be a good year for all of us. It's going to be what we make it, and I don't plan to mess it up. Cayla xx

I Accidentally Ranted. Oops.

*Christina Grimmie voice* Hey guys!

So, I decided, that with school starting and such, I can't blog as often. I have been contemplating whether or not to blog every other night, and I think that's what I'm going to end up doing. (Because school starts the day after tomorrow.) I alwaysalwaysalways ask myself "What should I blog about tonight?" Truthfully, my life isn't super interesting, and I'm just good at talking it up. Plus, I'm sure no one wants to read about me sweeping at work, or the different editions of the same thoughts time and time again. So, I think this will also make for better reading material.

Tonight, I can tell you a little bit about my day. (I hope this all makes sense in the end.) Well, like we all knew we would, I talked to that pothead boy and came to find out some interesting things. (Stop shaking your head.) He's nineteen, (he's got pretty blue eyes, shh), he has a bunch of pointless tattoos (an idea that I disagree with strongly), and he's actually been to the penitentiary. (Yeah, you all may shake your heads now. Truthfully, I want to know how I even come across these people in the first place, or why God even thinks it necessary to put them in my path.)
Aside from that, he is a total and complete wangster. Oh, you're not privy to the lingo? It means "white-gangster."

The thing about this kid? I can tell he wasn't raised to be how he is. His younger brother is completely respectful and kind. The "proper" comes out in his voice all the time. He even LOOKS like a down-home country boy under all of those tattoos and baggy clothes. He started college. He went to trade school. He has field-specific certifications. So, why? Why would you want to throw away the chance at having a successful career and a family for a few funny stories and some wild times when you're young? Maybe that's why I'm such a square. (I definitely think for the future.) So what about when tomorrow finally does come and you realize you were never married and your house isn't a home, and every day is a struggle? What happens when you realize you aren't where you want to be because you were too busy "being young"?

I'm seventeen. I'm a kid. I don't party, do drugs, go anywhere I'm not supposed to, or lie to my mother, but I guarantee you I have loads of fun and I'm happy at the end of every day. If I can do that now, I think I'd make an extraordinary adult (and maybe a strict mother). It isn't hard.

I just don't get it. Why throw the remainder of your life away?

This was more of a rant than anything else,
Cayla xx

I Have The Worst Track Record EVER.

So, tonight while I was mopping at work, I had a thought. I was thinking about this guy I met the other night. (Well, I don't even think I "met" him. I didn't get his name and he didn't get mine. We were just hanging out with a mutual friend.) While I was hanging out at the convenience store, I assessed this guy. Tall, skinny, white, put thought into matching his clothes, looks like he does drugs (and I was right about that), twentysomething years old.  I thought (and I don't like thinking it), this guy has absolutely nothing going for him and a year ago, I'd have been flirting with him at this point. The fact of the matter is, I have a terrible track record for liking this kind of guy (stop cringing, it's rude). Another fact is, after assessing this young man, I automatically thought "No. There's nothing to like here. There's nothing good for me here." And then I smiled internally, because I've changed so much in the past year.

Last June, there was the Douche, my best friend. I had the hugest, most cliche crush on this guy and there wasn't much special about him. He was completely rude to me, reduced my self esteem tremendously, and was a crappy person to my little brother (which is not ever acceptable. Family first). But I was willing to overlook all of this because "he's so awesome." He was cute (and looking back, I disagree with fifteen year old Cayla) and skated and played guitar, and shallow me was smitten. It took me a year to realize he was no good for me and had nothing to offer in the role I wanted him to fill in my life.

Then, there was the Player, soon after. He dated multiple girls at once and his catchphrase was "Can I touch it?" (No, stop laughing. I'm serious. He said that regularly.) I remember being completely infatuated with a guy that cared nothing for women, and that was probably why I liked him in the first place. (Bad boys, right?) My emotions changed quickly when I came to find he actually DID like me. I learned not to jump so quickly into saying I like someone (given that I'm never sure how I feel). Took me two months.

Then there was the Skater. (Ahh, the Skater. A recurring character in this blog. A familiar face on Gemini With The Green Eyes.) Tall, skinny, white, pothead (if I had a nickel for every white boy that smokes weed and suddenly thinks he's a rapper...), skater, southern as all get out. He was adventurous, spontaneous (I'm a sucker for spontaneity), hilarious, and just great. Except for that whole pothead thing. (Truthfully, the plant came before everything with him. As far as I could see.) Well, I was head over heels in like (what does that even mean?) with this boy, and then he stopped talking to me to pursue a girl in college. (You have my full permission to cringe now.)  It took me ten months to realize there was nothing positive for me there. (I know that's a while, but we all learn sooner or later.)

And then, when all hope was lost, there was The Knight In Shining Armor. (Let's call him that.) Tall and thin, just like those before him, but different. He had ambition. He had goals to reach, and I saw him reach tons of them. He wasn't afraid to work, which is different than all of the other guys I mentioned. He was a gentleman. He called me "ma'am" in daily conversation (the few that I had the pleasure of partaking in with him), and held open the door for me when I ambushed him into a conversation with me on the way to lunch one day (poor guy, I know.) He was never rude to me outright, and never said no to talking to me (or dancing with me at prom). I asked him the most random questions at the worst of times, and he didn't question me or tell me to leave him alone. How long did it take me to get over this one? I haven't. I don't fangirl over him or blush at his name anymore, but he is guaranteed to have a lasting impressing on me.

Truthfully, before the Knight, I had no idea that teenage gentleman existed. I had no idea that boys called girls "ma'am" in a non-joking manner, and that actually meant a lot to me. Having a crush on the Knight was extremely unlikely, but I'm glad I did. Because of this year, I know a little bit more about what I want in a future spouse. Ambition. Motivation. Kindness. Proper manners. These things that the Douche, the Skater, and the Player lacked, things that my thoughts superficial compensated for. It turns out they aren't just fantasy things you only see in Disney princes. These things exist, even in young men, and that gives me more hope for my future ventures in love. They helped me to raise my standards. Having a crush at sixteen years old helped me to change my outlook on romance and love in general. It's pretty wild, huh? *insert cheesy Cayla smile*

Well, that's basically how I magically improved my track record. That Knight In Shining Armor is my golden star, and I'm ridiculously proud of liking him because of those who came before.

Did you like this one? I felt pretty teenagery writing this.
Cayla xx

A Smaller Goal For Senior Year

So, guys. Today, I left my house with the intention of hanging out at my best friend, Jenni's house. We were going to veg out, watch Supernatural, and show each other new songs. The usual. Before we stopped by her house, we made one quick pitstop to the school to fix my schedule (I ended up having to give up my first off period so I could do yearbook. You're welcome, Mrs. Strnad). While we were sitting in the counselor's office, the home ec teacher stopped in and asked us to help her daughter organize the kitchen in her classroom and we accepted (I was guilted into it.) And so it began.

I spent a long while going through spices to make sure they were still good and accidentally dyeing my hands with leaky red food coloring. The other girls moved tables and stored dishes into cabinets. (We even rolled around on the dolleys a bit.) It was good to be able to see Sarah and Grace (I've missed them a bunch in the last few weeks) and catch up a little bit before the stresses of senior year started up. (Whoop whoop, I'm gonna be a senior!) We all hung out and organized for a bit, and then one of my classmates, Wyatt, comes into the room and asks us if we can help him change out the letters on the marquee.

Okay, let me share something that anyone from down south knows. You do NOT want to be out in the sun during any of the summer months in Texas. We're actually just now getting back below 100°F during the day. Working to get the letters onto that sign was hard work, and we all went back inside sweaty and gross. Much to my relief, Wyatt was super cool and kept us laughing by saying things like "Guys. The reason these jeans are so tight is because I've had them since I was like, thirteen" and his comments about how ghetto it was that we had to use upside down fives as twos so we could finish the sign. (He was even so nice as to thank us a thousand times for coming out to help him and making his job a little easier.)

Truthfully, my favorite part of the day was hanging up those letters in the ungodly heat with Jenni, Sarah, and Wyatt.  Wyatt and I have never been close friends or really even acknowledged one another until the last few months of school last year. I have always had a really hard time coming out of my shell, but once I found my niche in high school (even though it is a little more silent and standoffish than I'd like), I found that Wyatt accepted me anyway. He doesn't mind talking to me even though I'm not like his other friends, and that actually means a whole heck of a lot to me.

So this year, I'm going to be more outgoing. Not to say that I don't already talk to people, or have friends, or that I'm not myself at school, but maybe I'll find a few more cool kids like Wyatt and Sarah and Jenni. Kids that can see past what most teenagers can't, and can see what a gem of a person you may be. I want to leave this one horse town on a good note. Besides, it's my senior year, and I may as well go out with a bang. *insert Smiley face*

Was this one too teenagery? I am in high school.
Cayla xx

Here I Go With The Love Stuff Again

I start entirely too many sentences and conversations with the phrase "So I was thinking and I realized...." I suppose that just means I'm a thinker, but it just jumped out at me today.

Okay, so. I was thinking today and I realized I ALWAYS like someone. Always. It could be the simplest, most shallow attraction, or a completely head over heels situation, but I always have an object of affections. I think part of that may have to do with the fact that I've never had a boyfriend (this is the part where you spit take whatever you happen to be drinking at the moment) or it could be that I like to have a special someone to think about. (I mean, I am a girl.)

I'm going to share something with you all. I have this vision in my head of future me living in a classy suburban house, coming home from work. When I look over, I see my future husband sitting there, still dressed from work. I walk over and sit down next to him and tell him about the kids at school that day (I'm planning to be a teacher) and later, I make dinner and talk to him and we wash dishes together. I'm sure you think that's cheesy or you think "Wow, dishes. That's romantic." But this is just how I see my happy future.

So when I'm attracted to a guy and I'm intrigued enough to observe him,  I take this person and plop him right down into the middle of my daydream. What would it be like coming home to this person every night? Could you work together to reach a common goal? Would he be supportive? Does he have the drive it takes to reach the life he wants? All of this from seventeen year old me.

I am always asked the question, "Why don't you ever date anyone?" It isn't because no one is interested. It isn't because I'm shy. It's not as if no one has ever asked me. Here's why. I haven't really found anyone worth it yet. Sure, I fangirl about some new guy all the time. Sometimes, I even get pretty caught up on these guys, but when it comes down to what I want in entirety, no one I've met has made the cut.

I've said it a thousand times and I'll say it again. Never settle for less than what you want. I don't plan on doing that, and it would break my heart to see anyone I know do it either. Even if you have to hold out (like I have with dating. And believe me, it gets lonely), what you get in the end will be well worth the wait. It has to be, doesn't it?

The romance doctor/philosopher,
Cayla xx

I'm Not One Of Those Crazy Girls (?)

So, I was thinking today, I'm glad I have the opportunity to write every day. I'm glad that, usually, I say something relevant at least once a night. I guess that means I'm still sane. BUT, I was also thinking about the fact that something's missing from my blog since I've been back. I realized, that's because I don't necessarily put real experiences into this thing anymore. I don't make it relatable anymore. I've turned this blog into more of a diary or a practice of complaint and emotional release, and that isn't fair. So let me give you some substance, eh?

Last night, I didn't get to sleep until about five this morning. I settled into my bed after a hard day of work and dozed off into a pleasantly sound sleep until my alarm scared me awake at ten thirty this morning. I found my phone, turned off the alarm, and was about to go to sleep when Facebook tells me I have a message. I "ugh"ed and looked at my phone, despite the fact that I wanted to sleep in a little more. Good thing, too.

As it turns out, there was a random message (and I do mean random) that Skater Boy's ex-girlfriend left me, calling me names that shouldn't be repeated and insinuating things that completely contradict my personality. The gist?

"We broke up and he won't leave me alone. Can you just do me a favor and get him to stop telling me he loves me? I don't like you at all, but if it has to be you, then so be it. He told me he feels absolutely nothing for you, but with a few minor changes to your personality, I'm sure you could have him again."

(And of course that was paraphrased, proofread, and censored tremendously.) I laid in bed and blinked, confused. I shook my head and read it again. This time my feelings were hurt. Where was the anger coming from? I haven't had anything to say to Crazy Girl or Skater Boy for a long while, and we all parted on good terms. Why was this still following me? I read it again and was perplexed, once again. It's too early for this, I thought. I called my best friend, Jennifer (Hey there, Jenni!), read her the message, and then left for her house. I responded to Crazy Girl in the most polite way possible, not wanting to fuel the fire any. I told her that I was disappointed in her feelings toward me and that I still liked her as a person. I told her the best way to handle it was to tell Skater Boy how she feels. I figured her anger was misguided, and I smiled at the fact that I handled myself so well. She saw my message and didn't respond. "It's over," I thought.

Thought.

She responded seven hours later with some unintelligible angry message. Truthfully, I got a little ugly. I said things that shouldn't have been said, but they weren't insinuations about this girl. The rude things I said were true (which makes it worse, I suppose). And, because I'd been nice so far (this is the third time she's flipped her lid on me randomly), I stood my ground (maybe a little too much) and I don't regret it at all.

The lesson here, you ask, dear reader?

Well, I truthfully kind of forgot about the Skater and the entire situation. I guess that's what happens with time. I'm moving on. But, moving on doesn't constitute forgetting about where you've been. To forget is to dig a hole and then fall back into it. These people keep coming back up, and I guess the third time around I should acknowledge the fact that I may not be done with the situation. Moving on from this may not be in God's plan or the "big picture." I suppose you've got to keep an open mind.

I also learned, from the Crazy Girl, that my blog is a bit of a "publicized diary." And I'm perfectly fine with that. I never use names when I write, and I enjoy the writing I do. I have my own little audience, and they enjoy it as well. Because of today (and my guilt), I almost stopped blogging altogether. Another lesson? You can't let a little anger and bitterness from others keep you down. You have got to do what you love. Never ever ever stop.

Alrighty, well, I'm getting cheesy and motivational. That's my cue to go.

I feel good about this one,
Cayla xx

It Should Be About Us, It Should Be About Trust

Holaaaa, blog readers. While I was mopping at work today, I was singing You Ain't Woman Enough To Take My Man (classic) and I had a thought. There really aren't crazy girlfriends anymore (welllll, sort of). I remember a point time when, if a a girl was cheated on, she'd slash her boyfriend's tires and burn his things and stand outside his house screaming (a little too descriptive, Cayla). We used to take matters into our own hands, and not just "let the chips fall where they may." You just don't see that anymore. (Isn't that a good thing?) Well, hell to the no, it isn't.

I've noticed girls are completely complacent in relationships now. We're comfortable lowering our standards considerably, and then letting the guy we're into lower them as well. If a guy cheats, we're  quick to make up excuses.

"It was a one time thing."

"We were going through a tough time."

Excuse me while I gag.

It's so much easier to push the logical thoughts deep down and make excuses I
instead. People commend the ladies that go back to that guy. "Oh, she's so strong. Such a trooper." It's my honest opinion that the women who think "I deserve better" and take that first step toward moving on are the strong ones. They overcame their own emotional block and are moving to make their next relationship a good one.

If I learned one thing from my mother, it's that "you shouldn't settle, Cayla Jo." Ever. In love, in work, in life. You always always (always) go for your vision of the best. I think that's what my generation (and women in general) are missing. It's a wonder we still function. 

All else aside, ladies. Have respect for yourself. Stand up for you. And if necessary, kick their asses into shape. (But not literally, dear God.)

Was this one too preachy?
Cayla xx

This Is Basically A Novel, But If You Read It, I'll Love You

Hey, guys! Let me just say: if you're still here, if you're still reading this, then I appreciate what you're doing. It will never cease to amaze me that some people actually care about the things I think. I know it's pretty redundant that I keep saying this, but it means more to me than you can imagine.

So, fun fact about Cayla Clack. I love dreaming. Like I mentioned before, I'm a huge fan of finding the deeper meaning in everything, including in my dreams. I love hunting for every little drop of depth I can in my subconscious, but it's a tad offputting when your dream is extremely point blank and realistic. I had this dream about a week and a half ago, but it's consumed my thoughts so much that I feel like I need to share it with you all. (Without using names, yet still being completely obvious somehow. It takes skill.)

I was at one of my best friend's houses (let's call her Holly. She was almost named "Juno." Shh, don't judge me.), like always, but I was fresh out of college and immersed in a new teaching job (in New Braunfels, I think). We were all four and five years older, and the dream had a more mature air about it. Holly's parents got along a lot better now that they only had her two younger sisters, Sarah and Selena, to look after. Sarah, was a little smarter, and Selena was a little less of a shit. Holly was with a guy that I actually sort of approved of, and their elder brother, Joseph, was nowhere in sight. Holly's family invited me to a family reunion, saying I was like a daughter to them and that I'd helped Holly during the darkest time of her life, and I eagerly accepted. I hadn't seen Holly or Sarah in a long while, but in the back of my mind, I really wanted to know how Joseph was doing. It had been four years since I'd seen him last, and something was telling me I really needed to. At every family reunion, families catch up on any gossip they may have missed, and at this one in particular, the hot topic was Joseph and his girlfriend. I sat down next to one of Holly's aunts and overheard her talking about how she didn't approve of Joseph's thoughts to marry his girlfriend. I thought nothing of the fact that she didn't agree with her nephew's decision. Everyone in Holly's family had a reason to dislike someone for one thing or another. I was more interested in the fact that Joseph was in a relationship long enough to even consider the possibility of marrying someone. I wanted to hear more. I listened to all of the hushed tones Holly's family was uttering around the Cauldron that Mr. Rodriguez was cooking at.

"She's so mean to him."

"He doesn't even smile anymore."

"The only time you see him happy is at work. Your girlfriend is supposed to make you happy."

"It's a shame he's only thinking about marrying her because he doesn't want to start over again."

"He's not happy. You can see it in his eyes."

One of Holly's aunts turned to me and patted me on the knee. "You're much prettier than her, mi hija." Holly's family loved me more than ever, but their only problem with me is that I didn't go after Joseph while we were still teenagers, and now they all had to watch him marry a bitter woman he wasn't in love with. I smiled at her aunt then got up to see Mr. Rodriguez by the cauldron. I didn't bother with formalities or hellos.

"Joseph is getting married?" It just fell out of my mouth. Some small part of me felt sick thinking about it. I hadn't seen or spoken to Joseph in years and I, for some reason, couldn't stand the thought if him marrying this girl.

Mr. Rodriguez stirred up whatever he was frying in the cauldron (I had my heart set on carnitas). "Yeah, he's marrying that girl I told you about a few years ago. You should have gotten with him, Cayla. That boy used to love you, girl." I suddenly felt guilty. I didn't like to think about it while I was in high school, and frankly, I didn't believe it back then. But now, every second I spent in the same room as Joseph came flooding back to memory. Every sentence exchanged, every glance shared, every joke uttered. I remembered the time I first met him in the back seat of the family's car and he randomly bought me a Gatorade (lemon-lime, my favorite). I remember the day all of us kids were standing in the Rodriguez family kitchen talking, and Joseph stared at the floor until I addressed him specifically. I remember the night we stayed up nearly until dawn and he told me things he never told anyone else. When he looked hurt that I only "used" to have a crush on him, even though he had a girlfriend at the time. All of these thoughts engulfed my mind and drownes the helpless little me that was finally understanding the truth of the situation. There was something there when I was in high school. There was something between me and Joseph. I mentally facepalmed and felt weak-kneed when I realized I couldn't change things.

I realized I'd been standing there in front of Holly's dad looking lost. I swallowed the lump in my throat and prepared to speak. "I know he did, Mr. Rodriguez, but I was just a kid back then."

He nodded at me.

"What do I do?" I asked him, knowing the answer. Nothing could be done.

"Don't give up yet," he said, stirring the pot. "We told him you were invited and I saw the look on his face, girl. I think he still likes you."

I said okay and walked away. What if I was only here because his family hated his girlfriend? This family loved me, but they loved their son more. Of course that's why I was here. The only person that hadn't arrived to the reuinion was Joseph. While I anxiously awaited his arrival, I chatted up Holly and met her boyfriend. Despite her "get married young" mentality when we were teenagers, she and her boyfriend were happily taking it veeeeery slow. I, of course, was enthused at this fact. Holly was smitten by some guy, as always, but she'd been with him for three years and finally seemed to have her head on straight. I was proud of my friend and silently thanked God for answering my prayer to give her happiness and guidance.

We were talking and laughing and it suddenly got really quiet. I didn't have to look up to know why. Little Joseph was here with his girlfriend, and they walked down the stairs, hand in hand. He hadn't aged a day. He was still wearing his Polo from work, his hair was still the same, and the same belt he used to wear when we were teenagers peeked from under his shirt. If anything, he was in better shape than before. I had to catch my breath. He and his girlfriend walked toward us, and she was gorgeous. But the closer they came, the uglier she became until she had a beard and weighed three-hundred pounds. (Hey, it's been realistic thus far. He held her hand just as well, but I think the ugliness was her personality being depicted in a more literal sense. My subconscious is more blunt than I am, anway.) As soon as he saw me, he smiled, and then a somber look took over. He looked at the ground as I walked over.

"Hey, Joseph. Long time, no see."

"Yeah," he mumbled, without looking up. He began kicking at the gravel he was standing on. I laughed awkwardly.

"Hey, Alexis. How's it going?"

She said nothing, just scowled at me and gripped Joseph's hand tighter.

"Let's go grab those two chairs over there." She spoke to him while staring me down. And with an "Okay, babe," they walked away and left me standing there.

Soon enough, the food was ready, and stories were being told and laughs were being had. I decided to eat my dinner standing by the tree, so I wouldn't have to look at Joseph and his girlfriend sitting across from me. Everyone was laughing and having a good time, and I couldn't help but feel glad I was here. Like I belonged here. I couldn't help but smile. My moment of self-reflecting was interrupted by none other than  Little Joseph himself. I looked over and Alexis was sitting alone, looking pissed off, as always.

"My family's pretty crazy, huh? I can't believe you still come around." He laughed and it was the first time I'd seen him happy since he'd arrived at the shindig earlier. I chuckled as well.

"Nah, I love your family. You know that." We just stood and looked at the joyous Rodriguez clan sitting around the fire. We were quiet. I broke that silence. (That much is a given, huh?)

"You can't marry that girl, Joe."

AND THEN MY FRIEND'S DAD STORMS INTO THE ROOM AND MAKES US ALL WAKE UP.

I know reading this has probably been like reading a novel, and you want to gnaw your arm off to ease the agony, but this dream brings me to my point. (And I'll be brief.)

I recently learned that if you feel something for someone, you should make those feelings known. The timing may be terrible, or the.circumstances may seem to be against you, but I guess that's why it's called "Falling in love." Falling isn't necessarily a good thing, but the possibility that love is waiting for you on impact makes it worth it. In my case, I'm not talking falling in love. I can be honest in saying I don't know what that's like. For me, it's the same old I-like-a-guy-and-I'm-overthinking-it-and-giving-myself-an-unrealistic-ultimatum-because-he-is-in-some-way-unattainable thing. But, hey, what's romance without a little excitement?

I hope you guys enjoy this one, Cayla xx

Back In Black, And Don't You Know I'm Glad To Be Back?

Long time, no blog, huh? I'm going to be completely honest in saying, I have missed blogging and the feedback and feeling a real connection with my readers. I'm really glad to have to opportunity to continue blogging and for people to keep reading this silly ol' thing. That being said, a lot has happened during my absence, and I'm sure I'll be very scatterbrained trying to update you all. (I'm pretty out of practice, so who knows where this bad boy will go?) Let's get this ball rolling.

During my absence, I spent a large amount of my time at one of my best friend's houses, and it truly made for an unforgettable time. I've been going to this friend's house for a year and a half, and I'd give it all back for the past week I've spent there.

Before I spent an entire week at this house, they were just my friend's family. The temperamental father, the super straight-laced mother, the player of an older brother, the ditzy middle child, and the annoying five year old. The thing is, I realized (and this one's pretty obvious, so forgive me) that the more time you spend around someone, the better you get to know them. When you spend time with someone, they become less of your impression of them and more of a character that plays a part in your life. You realize these people have depth. They have demons. They have their dreams and their plight.

I stayed up talking all night with the player of an older brother and discovered he actually wants wants to "do things right", get married, start a family, and have a son. I found out he isn't as apathetic to his family's dysfunction as I perceived. I discovered he's a real person with real emotions.

I spent the day hanging with the ditzy sister and realized she's incredibly emotionally deep and loves her older brother and daddy more than anything. I discovered all she wants is her family's happiness and a little bit of clarity. I discovered she wants someone to listen to her and provide some insight and guidance for her.

I sat and talked with the angry dad all day, and it was brought to my attention that he is doing his best to keep his life on track, keep his family affairs in order, and learn how to give his problems to God. I learned that his life made him a hard man, and that he was finally learning how to be softer and emotionally vulnerable.

The straight-laced mother is the epitome of the term "bible-thumper," and really is straight-laced. On the other hand, it's all she knows. It's how she was raised, it's what she knows is right, and it's what she wants her children to know. She wants things to be whole and right (and a little bit holy), and I really understand that.

(Let's not even bother with the five year old. She's still the annoying five year old, but she's a cutie.) For the past few weeks, this family has been all that I've thought about, and all that I've prayed for. To add to the list of realizations I've had lately, I realized that they're the object of my thoughts and prayers for one reason only. They all have a part to play in this preachy drama I like to call my life.

They've lost their roles as extras and have blown into full on, fully animated characters in my life. (Is that a metaphor?)  Whatever parts they play, I am positive it'll turn out beautifully.

Was this alright for a second "first blog post"?
Cayla xx

Take a Sad Song and Make It Better

Okay, first and foremost, I am a mobile blogger. I blog from my phone, and there's not really another way for me to do it. Unfortunately, this phone decided it wanted to part ways with me, and is slowly malfunctioning, so I have to send it back and get a new one. Which means, for a few days, I won't be able to share my thoughts and musings with you guys. I'm pretty disappointed, but it'll give me time to come up with some darned good material to write about.

Now, down to brass tacks. Guess what I got corralled into doing tomorrow night?

No?

Okay, I'll tell you. I'm having to go to that kind of embarrassing, kind of awkward social event at the Coupland Dance Hall. Teen Night. (Cue shuddering) It's not so much that I don't like hanging out with my friends in public, and getting all dressed up, and having a reason to wear makeup (I seldom do). It's just that when it comes to situations with most of my classmates, I'm more of a watcher and less of a participant. (Even in my Psychology class, I'd always ask to sit out of group activities or work alone, and that was one of my favorite classes.) It could be sheer paranoia, or realistic thinking, but I just feel like my classmates judge those who don't conform to the masses. I'm certainly not a conformist, and I'm very different. My natural being makes me feel so out of place around students at my high school, and so that's why I dread Teen Night.

It's funny because when I first decided to go, I got all gussied up and I was actually excited. Had I known I was going to get certain looks and be treated like "That weird girl, Cayla", I'd have just worn blue jeans and flannel, like every day.

So tonight, I'm having a bit of a girly moment. I'm completely nervous for Teen Night. No questions. But on the flip side, half of me wants to go all out and dress up. Will it be like letting my guard down last time? Will I be disapponted? And then part of me knows I should show up like everyone always sees me. Plain Jane. Baseball tee, flannel, blue jeans, sneakers, ponytail. Maybe then, I'd feel like normal me in a social situation. I'd be prepared for my classmates to treat me like they usually do, and I'd be fine.

I'm thinking too much, and I hope this one didn't bum you guys out. But there's a dark to light, a tail to a head, and a yang to yin. Plus side, though. In college, no one's gonna know me, and I can totally break out all of the cute maxidresses I've been hiding my entire high school career. Silver lining. (It literally made me smile.)

Making negative into positive since 1996,
Cayla xx

There's a Time And a Place to Die, but This Ain't It. (Paramore Pun)

So, guys. I consciously didn't blog last night. It's an awkward moment when Cayla has nothing to say, but I really just didn't. I like for there to be a point to what I'm saying so the reader can get something out of it. You can't get much out of mindless chatter, and I do enough of that verbally.

Today, though, I do have something to talk about. It's about my future (again). You're probably thinking I talk about the future too often, and that's because I do. Reason being, my step into adulthood may as well be tomorrow. The future is hurling itself at me at breakneck speed. I'm having to plan (which I never do), and figure out things that end up deciding me future. I have to do extra in school and in life and make darned sure my indecisiveness doesn't get the better of me, like it always does. I have to prepare myself for being away from my mom and brother, this cute little town, and possibly even my best friend (that's you, Jenni). I'm paying attention to so many things concerning college and having a career that I don't even have the mental capability of being afraid of what the future may bring. Even so, I'd have to do it anyway.

If you're my age, the point I'm trying to make is, we've got ONE MORE YEAR. One. We're teeter-tottering on the fault line, and we either jump onto stable land, or fall into that abyss of an unsuccessful beginning at life. I'm definitely jumping to the other side. What are you gonna do? (The answer is what makes you truly happy, just heads up.)

I completely overused the word "future" in this one,
Cayla xx

P.S. The photo and the title of this blog are from the same song by Paramore called Now. It just fit and I'm punny as heck.

P.P.S. I got Paramore tickets today. The Paramore obsessed girl got her tickets. Maybe I'll get kicked out of the show for excessive flailing. Hmm...

P.P.P.S. Thanks for reading my blogs, guys. Whether it's one person or thirty, I'm grateful to know anyone cares about what I have to say. I hope you can take something from my words, and I hope you keep reading. (:

The Music In Me

You know what the best feeling is for a broke, aspiring musician like myself? Being able to say I can write music again. For about a year now, I've been gathering up new bands for my listening pleasure, and not paying much attention to the music in my own heart. I'd hear musicians sing certain words (luckily, most musicians I listen to write their own lyrics) and my heart would ache because I had my own words to manifest and I just couldn't. I'd hit a block. I'd begun to be in a rut. I can honestly say, it upset me greatly to know all of this feeling was stuck inside of me and I couldn't remove it somehow.

And then last night happened. I was just laying in bed and a crazy burst of inspiration shot all through my body like electricity. I flipped on the light switch and frantically pawed around for a pad and paper (which, in my room, isn't hard to come by) and just sat for a second. I was thinking about a situation I'd been through (with a guy, duhhhh) but I wrote about something completely different. (Another guy. And I'm realizing this blog makes me sound pretty promiscuous, but I assure you, I'm just indecisive and picky.)

The song began to form around the thought that it's really hard for me to completely cut someone out of my life, even if I don't speak to or see that person anymore. It was later molded around a guy I'd been talking to and how things began to fade mutually. After the fact, I still wanted to talk and he didn't seem to share that sentiment. If I can say I learned one thing from this boy, it was to be open with and be able to put into words my emotions. The song was really just a summary of my short little trek with this person. 

But now I've gotten off topic. The fact is, when the song was done, it was so well worded and soulful and emotionally satisfying that upon completion, I sat back, sighed (emotional exhaustion), and smiled to myself. I'd finally, after a year, manifested my emotions into song lyrics, and that's what I've wanted to do all the while.

I hope this one isn't boring or too scattered,
Cayla xx

So, This Is What I Think About

Today, I was thinking about the failings I've had in the department of love affairs. The truth of the matter is, I always go for the wrong type of guy for me. It's been happening since as long as I can remember, as if I have a radar that can detect boys that are terrible for me. Because of this, I decided it would only be fitting to put into words the things that I want and the problems I've been having.

The problem: It seems like I only go after man-child guys that have nothing going for them or they're too wrapped up in being teenagers to realize that they need to get things done. I actually once almost dated a guy who said he wasn't going to college because he was a professional musician. He was sixteen. I can't reiterate enough how important it is to be mature in certain aspects. The most important being: handle your affairs when it's time to be an adult, you can always revert back to being a man-child later. Sadly enough, I like the guys that can't ever handle their business.

The Solution (Maybe?): I actually broke my unhealthy mold this year and liked a guy that was more mature and had ambition. Let me just say, that was so much fun to see in a person. Before this year, I'd never seen someone so driven in my life. He was just always working toward something, and it's so admirable. In fact, seeing him meet his goals motivated me to set and reach my own goals. That's what I need. I need someone who can handle their own affairs (like a man), reach their own goals and motivate me to reach mine, fascinate me daily and make me laugh all the time, and someone who I can have deep conversation and share my thoughts with.

The problem is, I don't want to be bored, and the seemingly more fun option is the one that's worse for me (ugh, man-children). Who says I can't have a fun relationship with all of the great qualities of the thought-up guy in the third paragraph? The ultimate mix between traditional and modern values. There are six billion people on this planet, so it shouldn't be too hard to find what I think I need.

Do I even know what I want?
Cayla xx

Baby Calves and Man-Babes: The Taylor Rodeo

Remember how I said I enjoyed doing normal Texan things once I kind of understood the culture? Well that's just what I did tonight. I went to my first rodeo and saw a great band.

Let me start out by saying: Rodeos are stupid. It's just a bunch of men riding pissed of stallions and roping baby calves and hoping they can hold onto a bull without getting thrown off and stomped on. I can't fathom why someone would want to endanger their lives solely for the sake of entertainment. But on the other hand, rodeos are pretty macho, and I don't care what kind of a woman you are, macho is universally attractive. I saw quite a few cute cowboys, not to mention, country men seem to age well (I think I have a new "type"). All of my fleeting teenage hormones aside, seeing those men perform their acts terrified me and I was praying for each and every man that bucked out of those gates.

Secondly, I LOVE country music. There's something about it that just makes me smile every time I hear it (especially when George Strait sings, who was coincidentally a rodeo act) and I love seeing bands play it live. Given that, I was pretty stoked that there was a live band playing and a dance after the rodeo. Okay, guys, they were amazing. The singer's name was Clayton Gardner (man-dime) and his band brought the house down (or the sky, because we were outside). They even played Amarillo By Morning by George Strait, to which I two-stepped with my best friend, Jenni. I'm a terrible dancer (because I'm awkward at everything else, so why not just add one more thing to the list?) and every time I'd get a bit of rhythm going, Jennifer's golden curtain of hair would shroud her face and we'd lose our rhythm again. Nevertheless, it was a blast!

After the gig, we met the lead singer by the merch table and he signed my CD (what the heck, he was good live) and we had a good ol' conversation. When we were done talking, Jenni and I got photos with him and when we asked him to take another, he said "I don't mind at all, you ladies look good tonight." The stud of a man was holding a Lone Star beer in his hand, and given that, was to old for me. But, he was a gentleman and I felt pretty damned good tonight, so I'll take the compliment. :)

Usually, I inclide a gist or a lesson of sorts every time I write one of these, but here I am just babbling away about macho bull riding and the super stud Clayton Gardner. So, here it is: I had a great at the rodeo and the dance. Not sufficient? Well, no one asked me to dance again tonight, just like last Thursday at Coupland Dance Hall. The difference being, tonight, I didn't care. I realized (a little late, I know) that I don't need some fickle-minded teenage boy to get up the courage to ask me to dance. (I guess it can be kind of nerve racking, not to mention everyone with eyes has seen I'm a terrible two-stepper.) I had so much fun at my first rodeo! I'm looking back and there isn't a thing I would have changed about tonight, at all.

Learning as I go along,
Cayla xx

P.S. When he signed my CD, he wrote some weird three digit number on it and I am STILL trying to figure out what it means...

P.P.S. Here's a link to Clayton Gardner's website if you're into country music. They're pretty rad, and they kill it (in a good way) live.

http://www.claytongardner.com/fr_home.cfm

Better Than The Addams Family

So, for the past two days, I've been at my friend Hannah's house and I forgot how much I loved coming over. Her family is wild. They always crack me up, and every visit is like a party.

Hannah has four siblings. The youngest is Sybil, who's five years old. Let me just say, this girl is stuck in her terrible twos, THREE YEARS LATER. (I once jokingly called her the spawn of Satan.) She stomps around the house saying the most hilarious things (like "Shut your little mouth") and getting into any mischief she can find. The fact that she's so cute throws you off.

The second youngest is Samara, she's fourteen. She's so hilariously ditzy (for example right now, she's laughing for no reason) and her most used line is "What does that mean?" Samara has actually been known to laugh at a housefly landing on the kitchen table or an antique license plate because it only had four numbers on it. Her contagious laughter is the spark to the powder keg.

Third oldest is Hannah; she's eighteen. We've been friends for almost four years now, and it's been a wild ride. She's the friend that laughs at a joke too late and too hard (which cracks me up every time) and has a big heart. She's always trying to follow that big heart, and messes up a lot, but can always look back and say "Hey, I screwed up. I'll listen to Cayla next time." And that alone defines our friendship.

And last but not least, the eldest child is James, who is nineteen years old. James is single-handedly one of the funniest people I've ever met, even though his jokes are usually at the expense of me or one of his sisters (luckily, we're all good sports). Everyone in the house knows James is a ladies' man, and he knows it better than anyone. Occasionally, he does nice things for me, just because I'm a family friend, and it never ceases to throw me off. If I can say one good thing about him, it's that he loves his sisters and doesn't hide it.
Their family fights like mad. They nitpick, and they poke fun, and they sometimes are downright dysfunctional, but they'd all go to war for one another and being here really reminds me a bit of my family. I've really grown to love this family in the past few years, and they treat me like I'm their own. I can only hope it'll continue to be this way in the future.

I actually avoided using smileys in this post,
Cayla xx

I've Begun To Find My Identity

Today, I did something I've never done before. It was mega interesting, and I hope to have opportunities to do it again in the future.

I went to my friend Hannah's house and as soon as I got there, she said "Hey, we're going to youth group." My first thought was immediately Ughhhhh, tonight is going to suck. I don't ever feel comfortable in religious situations with kids my age. I feel like there are always eyes on my back, judging me, a person they don't even know. Later on in the day, Hannah's family friend (named Tornado, strangely enough) picked us up and surprised us with the fact that we weren't going to hang with teens, but young adults who lived in the suburbs. Great, I thought. Even worse.

When we got there, it was initially awkward, so we all ate (superb food, might I add) and began to break the ice. Hannah and I met a girl who was an EMT and was going back to Texas State University next fall (woot, Bobcats!), a man that was going to become a math teacher (and was into The Devil Wears Prada, The Maine, Hit The Lights, and The Word Alive), and so many more interesting people. I got less and less awkward as the evening went on.

After we ate, there was a bit of a church service. We all sat in a circle in the Pinterest look-alike living room as a couple in the group read from Matthew 4:1-11. We all discussed the time Satan himself tempted Jesus Christ. It's a story we've all heard a thousand times, but the way this group of people broke it down helped me to identify with my savior in a way I could have never imagined possible. Like suddenly, Jesus was like me, not just the Christ. 

From my understanding, Satan challenged Jesus's identity three times. Once he said to turn rocks into loaves of bread (to prove yourself through ability). Secondly, he said to throw himself off the temple in Jerusalem, where the entire population was watching (to prove your worth through how people see you). Thirdly, he told Jesus to bow down and worship him to acquire multiple kingdoms and riches (to prove your worth through belongings and wordly goods.) I realized, these are things I'm faced with every day!

I realized my Lord wasn't that much different from me, and I could truly identify with Christ in that moment. I had found my identity IN Christ. It was a powerful moment for me, and I was glad to have shared it with such a diverse group of people (that weren't the judgemental people I feared). I was glad to have experienced a sense of brotherhood and fellowship and community with these complete strangers, and to have learned something all because of a common belief!

I had the best day,
Cayla xx

Shh, Don't Call Me Cheesy!

I'll have to say that I think I'm a quite fortunate person. I think the greatest reason I can say that is because of my mother.

I remember about two years ago, my mother and I had the rockiest relationship and remember feeling so hurt and broken. Why? Because I let some bad influences in and my own actions shook up my family life in a very negative way. I got smart after about a year and cut those negative influences out, and my relationship with my mother improved as my attitude did. Things got pretty grand.

Let me just say, my mon puts up with tons of my crap. Hogging the bathroom in the mornings so I can get ready, me blaring my "terrible" music and singing in my Hayley Williams screech (pop-punk for life!), the fact that I never put away my laundry or stop talking, or that I stay up all night talking on the phone louder than I probably should be. Guys, there's more. I'm chock full of crap to put up with. The point is, my mom is just the most amazing woman I know.

She will take any job to care for my brother and I, and I'm going to say that's the most respectable thing I've ever seen or heard of in my life. It really is. I hope that when I'm an adult, when I'm a mother, I'm as amazing and strong (and cool) as my own mother is. Only my mom could mix a firm ruling hand and being completely laid back and make it work as parenting. She makes me forget that she's the only parent I live with. (Yeah, she's that great.)

I hope that my kids will be able to talk to me like I talk to my mom, or that I'll have the great work ethic that she has. I really just want to be as great a mother as mine. I don't know, guys. I just love her.

If you don't have a mom as cool as mine, BE THAT PARENT. Be close with your future hellion. Teach them, love them and work so they can be comfortable and happy, like I plan to. Every kid needs a good role model, and I'm glad I have mine.

Is it a party foul to say your mom is cool?
Cayla xx

I Appreciate Simplicity Because I'm Not Simple.

Today I asked my mom a question that I'm sure all kids with separated parents ask their moms. "Mom, do you still think of dad every day?" I'm not a romantic of any sort, but her reply surprised me. She said, "Nope. Not at all."

I found myself thinking it was weird to think that two people that were together for most of their adult lives don't think of or miss each other. That you can spend almost twenty years loving someone and then one day accept the fact that you don't love that person anymore.

Now, of course this was question was provoked by my own thoughts on the Skater (this guy just keeps popping up, eh?). He has intruded upon my thoughts every day for the past year. At first, it upset me greatly and I wished things could have worked out. Later on in the year's time, I could recall the things we'd done and the places we went with laughter. No matter the emotion, this boy has been on my mind for the past year. Why? When he was doing God knows what with God knows who, why was I thinking about him? Was I allowing the thought of this person to dictate my life? Am I now?

Now don't get me wrong, I have had the most enjoyable roller coaster of a year from fall of 2012 up until now. Truthfully, it's been the best year of my life so far. I made new friends and crushed on a very interesting senior and laughed TONS. Don't think I just spent my time thinking about this boy all day. I'm just worried. I'm worried that if my mom can live her life without mentioning my once a day (and they were together almost twenty years), then why am I still thinking of a boy that I had an undefined "thing" with for two months or so? I've been casually waiting for the future day I don't think about the Skater for the past year. Now, I don't know what I want, but admittedly, I never do.

The most confusing human being I know,
Cayla xx

ANOTHER Blast From The Past?

I woke up this morning with the realization that I'd forgotten to blog last night! I'm so sorry, guys. I was sound asleep and the thoughts of blogging were far behind me at that point. I'm still gonna blog twice today, though.

Let me update you all on yesterday's events. I did something mostly stupid and a little courageous. I solved the whole "I miss the Skater Boy" dilemma. I talked to him. I layed out the issue and we both decided to squash this year-old crap and just be friends. We're all supposed to hang out soon again, too. It's so weird to me because it isn't weird. Talking to the skater makes me feel like nothing has changed in this year in it's entirety. But so many things have. I'm more cautious now, less naive (which just conflicts with the fact that I spoke to him again at all). I know I'm going somewhere in my life, and I don't want that clouded for the sake of "fun."

I even find myself reverting back to my old saying when I first met this boy. "Let's see where this goes. Let's hope it ends well." (Yes, I'm cynical and practical enough to predict the ending.) 

I'm just suspicious because things are going so well so far. Will I end up trapped in my feelings again? Will Skater Boy somehow muck this friendship up as well as whatever happened last summer? Will I end up not only forgiving but forgetting? That would be the ultimate mistake, but I guess I have a few years left do be impulsive and make childish mistakes.

Let's See Where This Leads,
Cayla xx

P.S. Hey, peep the cool Paramore pic at the bottom. Those dudes are my favorite(:

Two-Stepping and George Strait's Studly Voice

Tonight, I did something I have never done before, and it was pretty interesting. I went dancing (Yes, country dancing) with all of my best friends at some thing called "Teen Night" and I had a blast. I two-stepped and Cupid Shuffled and did the cha-cha slide. My jam even came on. You Look So Good In Love by George Strait. (What a stud, what a stud.) It was a great night out with my girls and I was all gussied up in an actual blouse (as opposed to my usual t-shirts) and riding boots. I'll admit, I looked pretty darned spiffy. That poses the one issue I had with the night, and it was a bit of a given.

No. Boy. Asked. Me. To. Dance.

Most of my other friends had the opportunity, but I did not. I made sure that I didn't have my bitchface on, and that I was smiling and looked welcoming. I'll admit, I'm pretty socially awkward (I mean, hello, I'm blogging my nights away) and spent my junior year drawing in my journal and listening to music (setting myself up for social failure outside of the joint, I'd say). I'm definitely gonna be more outgoing next year.

Point is, where I don't like some of my peers and classmates (don't get me started), I definitely enjoy social interaction with them inside and outside of school. (Some of the guys are even pretty smokin'.) I just hope I have more fun and branch out more next time. You seize the opportunity, the opportunity doesn't seize you and there aren't always "next times."

Vowing not to be a wallflower at future shindigs,
Cayla xx

Good Ol' Fun In Hamilton Point (I'm Thuggy)

Ahh, blog. I've got so much to say today. So many feelings and it could go in any direction.

Let's start with, today, I was reunited with two veeeery old friends from middle school, Daniel and Diego, who coincidentally live in the same subdivisional neighborhood as the Skater Boy from last summer. My friend Haley and I went over to Hamilton Point to catch up with these guys, and it was the most fun I've had in a longwhile.

We played Grand Theft Auto 4 and hackey sacked and played soccer outside while listening to Pierce The Veil at full volume from Haley's car (you're welcome for the musical experience, guys). In that town, in that neighborhood, kids our age are into drugs, and have kids already, and are being locked up frequently for things they shouldn't be into. So, naturally, I appreciate peers that can entertain themselves and other people whilst being sober and without doing "the deed". We all had so much fun, and I can't speak for anyone else, but I know I truly enjoy being in their company.

Smooth sailing, BUT I would just like for once to keep a male friend without being emotionally invested in them. That was my one regret with The Skater Boy, and I will not make that mistake in this current set up, no matter the circumstances. I'm keeping these super cool friends, definitely.

Over and out, you beautiful things, you.
Cayla xx

It's Worth Fighting For.

Hola, reader. I'm actually doing something I've never done in my life. I'm planning. I'm planning what I want to do in life and I have a backup as well.

Plan numero uno: I am totally going for the vocal lessons. I called around the area today and I was extremely excited with the promise of the future. I found a place that didn't seem completely corporate and seemed more intimate, and I can't wait to get my training through them. (Taylor-Robinson, in case anyone was curious.) Even if I don't live out the huge pop-punk-I'm-such-a-rock-star-helping-kids-to-be-happy dream, I will have at least bettered myself, and that's always something to be proud of. 

Currently, I'm between jobs (But it's okay, guys, I'm still a teenager), and as soon as I get another and get a paycheck or two, this is where a third of my money is going. I have such hope and passion in this, that I'm sure it'll turn out for the better.

Plan numero dos: I have the whole Texas State teaching thing. Whether or not I get anywhere in life in any other profession, I still want a college degree under my belt. "In case of emergency." I want to teach. It seems like a big part of my heart and I love when you can see the lightbulb turn on and someone just gets what you're trying to explain to them.

So, all in all, I have two dreams in my life. I want to teach and I want to sing. The common goal? Reaching the next generation. My issue? Finding out which one is Plan A.

Planning Isn't Much My Thing, But Dreaming Is,
Cayla xx

"Farewell, I Miss You. I'm Sick of These Goodbyes."

Yoyoyiggityyo, it's blogging time. I almost forgot again. My best friend, Jenni says it takes thirty days to form a habit. Let's see if I can blog habitually or if I'm just too fickle for commitment, once again.

So, today, I accomplished something huge for little ol' me. I walked two miles just singing Mayday Parade (I even made a playlist) and doing my best to clear my head. I do not exercise. I am so out of shape, it's just a tad pathetic. (Praise the Lord for this metabolism of gold, right?) Fact is, I'm lazy, and I felt very accomplished. (I would have gone further, but the sound of vicious animals in the corn fields terrified me into walking home.)

To the feels and to the point: I started walking to clear my head of the thoughts I've been having for the past few days. I had Mayday Parade on shuffle and that alone is a sign that I was having an issue. I needed to think of the aforementioned skater boy's apology, my closure, and the fresh lashing out I'd just gotten from his ex-girlfriend. (Admittedly, I had a petty argumentative moment with her and I feel terrible about it. I know she's hurt.) I felt trapped with my thoughts in my bedroom, and I was trapped under wide sky with those same thoughts. I didn't really feel any different.

How could I have had an argument with another girl about a guy that wasn't worth the hurt? How could I suddenly decide I missed him after a year? Why were these people just now deciding they had a beef with the past and popping unexpectedly out of the woodwork? I was honestly confused. Truth is, I still am.

I have a thousand questions. And I always will. And while I'm okay and  very very happy with my life, I would still like to sit down with Skater Boy and hash things out once and for all. Ask my "whys" and release every burden of a question I've acquired in the past two weeks and then see how I felt afterward. I'd love to know if he was ever bored with Haley and I. I'd love to know if he ever thinks of me or if he ever misses hanging out. And those are just the small ones.

The lesson I learned tonight is: It doesn't matter how much closure you get, you (Okay, I) will always have questions. I will never be able to clear my head because there are always too many thoughts swimming around in that big head of mine. Also, walking is relaxing and I'd like to make a routine of it.

This is me saying, I hope Coach Fowler is actually reading my blog, thanks to anyone that is entertained by my thoughts and rant-like posts, and shout out to Otto who's not "cool" quite yet.

Cayla xx