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

"Ayy, Say, Boy." Should Have Known I'd Write About You Eventually. xx

Let me start by saying, four days into this "blogging" thing, and I already almost forgot to do it. My mind can't focus on routine things, oddly enough. I hate routine.

Okay, time to get the blog ball rolling. Today, I had a very long, very deep discussion with one of my best friends, Grace. (Say hello, Grace. You're in my blog.) In short, I had a bit of a summer fling a year ago, and she was foggy on the entire thing. So, being the talker I am, I recapped the entire summer of 2012's events in one hour. (Record time, guys.) The first guy that really took interest in me. The everyday hangouts. The first kiss. (I was sixteen.) The abrubt cease, on his part, of communication. Everything. I told Grace everything, and it wasn't easy to talk about at some parts.

The fact is, after it ended (short and sweet, some have said), I had my fit, and I did my crying, and I got over it. Or so I thought. About a week ago today, this boy apologized to me. After an entire year. He apologized for falling off of the face of the earth.

"Nothing is your fault. I never meant to hurt you or anyone else."

I was so stunned that I'd even popped into his mind. This was that closure everyone was talking about, I was sure of it. He had apologized, and even though I'd forgotten, that's all I'd ever wanted him to do.

Then a day passed. Then another. And into the next week, I realized this was not closure. Why did he apologize to me? Was he actually sorry? Did he have an ulterior motive? I had so many questions, but I was afraid if I messaged him again, he wouldn't reply. But I did it anyway. (High-five me, reader.)

He responded with the good ol', same ol' I should have expected from him.

"There's a lot of bullshit going on right now, so I'm trying to get it all off of my chest."

Okay, hun. And you know what? That was good enough for me. I wished him luck (because it still sucks to see him struggle. It really is a bunch of bullshit) and he thanked me and we said goodbye. (Okay, we said "later" because I'm too punk rock and he's to skater to say a dorky-ass "goodbye".) And then I smiled. Because I had the closure I needed. That quick little back and forth was all it took for me, and now I truly AM okay.

I feel like I could walk up to him and give him a hug and a high-five and I'd still be able to walk away smiling. And, truthfully, I only have one regret, and it's the biggie. I wish I'd never gone into this "thing" having feelings for him. I wish we were just friends. He was fun to be around, and he was a dumbass (my favorite part, actually), and he always made my friends and I laugh. I never had a dull moment around him, and I haven't found many people like that during the duration of my seventeen years of life. I actually sometimes wish we could still be friends. Just overlook the past and shake hands and agree that we'd be cool and just kick it together. But, who knows? Maybe I'm just reminiscing because it's been a whole year. Maybe I actually mean it. I'm just as much a mystery to myself.

Getting balls deep in emotional things,
Cayla xx

P.S. If you're reading this, which I'm quite positive you aren't, WHY ON GOD'S GREEN EARTH WOULD YOU CUT ALL OF YOUR HAIR OFF? Shit, man.

Find Your Own Voice

Today, after I got back from a long car ride home from Bandera, I was ecstatic at the realization that I could freely headbang and belt  out some Paramore without being giggled at by my friends. I fully intended to do so. I got some dishwater going to start washing up the dishes no one had gotten to while I was gone and I started singing Popping Champagne by All Time Low shamelessly (heheh, "Shameless" is another All Time Low reference), but something was different about the way I was singing. I noticed I had transitioned between screeching terribly (a sad addition to me singing along with Hayley Williams) to singing almost childlike and innocently. I liked the voice of innocence better.

I'm not going to lie, guys. I really want to make music. I want to make it terribly. I want to write a song and just have one person listening say "They understand me. They know what I've been going through." I want to help mend broken hearts because there are too many breakers and thieves in this world. I want relatablility so I know that I'm not alone. There's a song I want the world to hear, but it's so difficult to manifest that I give up on it time and time again.

So one of my smaller hopes is to find my own voice. That way, I can live out one of my many dreams. I want to make pop-punk music. I want to make acoustic songs. I live for hearing them and singing them and writing them. I have a song in my heart and I want the world to hear it and relate.

(Maybe some vocal lessons are in order first, though. Cough cough)

Well, this is me saying to find your own voice. Over and out.
Cayla xx

My Last Night on My First Vacation: Homesick Edition

A few weeks ago, I agreed to go on vacation with my friends Sarah and Lyndsey and Sarah's dad. At the time, I was stoked to have adventures in Bandera, Texas with two good friends of mine for a whole week. We've been tubing (I'm warming up for that recreational activity at Texas State), swimming in a pretty clear river, taking daily visits to the resort's swimming pool, and we've done a whole lot of shameless binge eating and television watching. Just a week in paradise, right?

Plot twist: I'm so homesick, I could cry. I found myself missing home by the third day I was here in this beautiful hill country resort. I have this desire to hug my mom and breathe in that mix of body soap and cigarette smoke that reminds me so much of home. I want to hug my little brother and show him the video games I downloaded on my Android (which says a certain something, because I am in no way a "gamer") and put him in a headlock and tell him how much I missed him. I even caved a little today and called my mom sobbing about how much I missed her and how much I couldn't wait until tomorrow so I could see her and my brother. (Much to my disappointment, I was informed she doesn't get off of work until five in the evening, and Shawn is at a relative's house. That means I'll be spending a few hours of that day alone. I predict a tearful reunion.)

The whole mostly-independent-seventeen-year-old-girl-turned-homesick-toddler thing got me thinking. Is this what college is going to be like? I'm moving an hour and a half away next fall to attend Texas State, and I've been so excited about it. Am I doomed to be homesick my entire first semester? My first year? Am I going to be making distressed emotional calls to my family every night? Am I going to allow myself to be happy and enjoy campus living, or am I going to be too wrapped up in a one woman pity party chock full of missing my family and pouting silently? I guess we'll just have to see.

Home Is Where the Heart Is,
Cayla xx

Awkward Drawn Out Introduction, Anyone?

So, I'm Cayla Clack and this is my blog. I guess I should just say a bit about myself before I really dive into the depths of this emotional ocean we call blogging.

I'm seventeen, I have green eyes (which I'm super proud of, mind you), I am a Gemini and believe zodiac has a bit of validity. I love making people laugh. If I say something, and you crack a smile, victory has been won. I love it.

Paramore has been my favorite band for the past five years, and they inspire me, make me happy, and make me want to headbang every day.

I think a lot. I talk a lot. I'm shy, yet outgoing. I'm mature, yet immature (I mean, I still make poop jokes, guys). I'm overly confident, yet extremely insecure. I contradict almost everything.

I dream of being able to attend Texas State University. (Did I mention I'm from Austin, Texas?) As it stands, I want to attend State, major in Political Science, English, or History, and become a teacher. I feel like the next generation should have something more to offer than mine, and I want to help with that. I want to give some uncool kid like me hope, and help them figure out what they want to do in their lives.

I'll leave this blog on a semi-embarrassing note (although I'm not easily embarrassed). I have so many dreams in life. I want to be a teacher, I want to be a guitarist, I want to get singing lessons and be a badass pop-punk frontwoman (I practice headbanging in my bedroom, shh), I want to be an actress, I want to meet Avan Jogia, and Hayley, Zac, and Josh from Paramore. I want to do something great because like Neil Young says, "It's better to burn out than to fade away." I want to be great. I want to be known for doing great things and I want to be able to say, "I helped someone. I helped lots of someones."

Over and out,
Cayla