"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