the recharge

There is something about home that recharges my batteries. Give me three days in the place I grew up and I am a new person. Like sending your American Girl doll to the doll hospital with her hair in clumps and arms on backwards and finding her on your doorstep two weeks later looking factory fresh. In this analogy, my mental status and outlook are the American Girl doll.

            In Philadelphia, I am an anxious and tired person. Whenever I am out, I’m thinking about being home and in bed and whenever I’m home and in bed, I’m thinking about all the time I’m wasting being a person who enjoys being at home in bed like some Wonka grandparent. I am morally neutral in the city, more prone to yelling and swearing and assuming people are trying to kill me or steal all my things or some sinister combination of the two. Though if you’re going to go through the trouble of killing me, you might as well steal my stuff too. I don’t need it anymore. Maybe just leave my driver’s license so people know who I was.

            That is a sentence written by Philadelphia Caitlin.

            But Harrisburg Caitlin? Oh man. Harrisburg Caitlin shoots to the other end of the spectrum. First of all, she is a social rock star. She wants to see everyone and engage in long conversations with them. She is up for flaming shots down town, social outings with parents and their friends, and one on one coffee dates with old classmates. On top of that, she is boundlessly witty and optimistic. She can quip with the best of them, listens more attentively, gives loving, compassionate feedback and is more generous with her hugs. Her anecdotes are taken to the next level and are always met with extreme interest and hearty laughter. Harrisburg Caitlin, believes in the general goodness of the world and her individual power to influence it for the better.

            I’m not completely sure how this recharge situation works though, because as it stands now, as you are currently reading this, you are probably thinking to yourself, the fuck would she ever go back to Philadelphia. And I will tell you the fuck I go back – because I’m afraid of taking advantage of the magic. If pumpkin spice lattes were all year round, would we love them as much? I’m afraid of making the magic into the norm and allowing it to lose it’s luster. So I haul my butt back to Philly but this time, as a changed butt. An optimistic butt. A butt who doesn’t believe that I am wasting my life and terrible at everything. No sir! I am a new butt, confident that I can do anything I want. I make plans on the train ride back and never once do I think I am not 100% capable of carrying them out.

            In Philly, I am a follower.  I direction-taker, never a direction giver. In high school, I organized things all the time. I loved planning projects and taking the lead. Now, Philly Caitlin waits for others to initiate then meekly follows behind, helping in minimal ways, where needed. And so it is necessary for me to return to the mother land with some frequency (but not too much!). I need to remember where I came from and be surrounded by the people who believe in me in the environment that created me. And I need to see how good it all is and believe once again that I came from all that good.

 

i think about my grandma at least once a day. pillows from her old guest room are on my bed as well as the quilt she gave me when i graduated, the same quilt her grandmother gave her. the patches on it came from her old clothes.

the little velvet couch and chair in the corner of my room were from her house as well and i wear her signet ring on a gold chain around my neck every day. i alternate between five pairs of her gold earrings.

i'm knitting a sweater and christmas presents for my family. i'm sewing my own halloween costume. she taught me the skills to do both.

this week a woman at work asked me a few questions about a scarf she's working on. at one point i found myself saying, "if you're not happy with it now, you never will be." a truth passed down by her.

i made her baked apples tonight. i'll make her baked man'n'cheese tomorrow night. i think of her when i put on perfume in the morning. i think of her when i'm choosing my outfits. would grandma janet wear this? she was always so put together.

i think i miss her more and more as i begin to see how deeply she's influenced me. so much of her has become a part of me. i was recently thinking about how much i would have loved to take her thrifting. how much i would have loved to show her around my house and cook her a meal. how happy she would be that i get to craft at work.

thinking of you every day. 

house

 

 i made this for work. and i would like to live in it. do you know who i would talk to about getting this made on a my-size scale? or shrinking me down so i can fit inside it? 

three things i definitely want in my grown up house, when i'm a grown up: a ping pong table, a trampoline, and a treehouse. obviously the last two can be outside of the actual house. in the backyard preferably. but once i have those things, i'll have it made in the shade. that's my american dream. also? it would ideally be an exact replica of my grandparent's house from growing up. that place was amazing. 

i'm consistently torn between wanting to set down roots somewhere and own a house, and wanting to move everywhere always. how can choose one place to make a home? can't i just have a home on wheels? can't i have a home with helicopter blades attached to the top? again, i need to know who to contact about this. do you people have connections? 

city life

 

i'm pretty future minded. i'm always thinking about what i want to do, where i want to live. i make a lot of lists. i plan trips and parties.

and every now and then i stop and look at my life, and i think to myself - i don't totally remember what i planned on doing at this point, but i'm pretty sure this isn't it. did i plan on living in philadelphia and working a 9-5 job? did i plan on dating a boy who lives two hours away? did i think i would look and dress this way? did i think i would think this way? did i imagine myself doing improv two to four nights a week? where did i see myself?

i don't even remember.

and i'm sure that two years from now, i won't even remember the plans i made for future me in the present. which begs the question, what's the point in planning anything? things aren't going to go as planned and that's not even a bad thing. it's just a thing. 

when i was in kindergarten, i imagined that sixteen year old caitlin would only wear stick-out-belly shirts and date a guy with a ponytail and a red convertible. when i was fourteen, i thought i would live in new york and be on broadway, despite my lack of vocal ability. i've wanted to be a journalist, the president, a teacher, and a doctor. and i'm not those things. and i don't want those things anymore. isn't it strange that we can change so much and still be the same person?

the point of the matter is, if you asked me five years ago where i thought i would be post-graduation, i would have never in a thousand years told you that i would be cramming a weeks worth of groceries into a bike basket and teetering home in the rain. never planned on that one.

a new map

 

so remember that last post, when i mentioned missing people and wanting to talk about it, then i never did? i'm going to do it now.

it's not even missing people so much as wishing there were fewer places. the people i love are scattered right now. i love people in philadelphia, new york, harrisburg, pittsburgh, baltimore, texas, indiana PA, georgia, new jersey, california, ohio, australia - all over. and i want to see them all, all the time. and i can't.  and it makes my heart physically hurt. there just aren't enough weekends to see everyone. we're all so busy and doing stuff and trying to appreciate where we are - i'm trying to make philadelphia my place and be a part of the city. but it's hard when i don't feel like a whole person - i'm a combination of all my people and they're all over the place. i'm sure there's a way to cope with this. people go on living without being in the presence of everyone they love all the time. but i'm not there yet. right now, i just want to pick up all the pieces, all the cities my friends live in and squash them all together on the map. maybe in some space in the ocean. so no one has to give up their city, but no one has to be apart either. who can i talk to about this map squashing business?

twenty two

 

i've been acting a fool recently.

late nights, open bars, and a big ol' mouth have lead me into situations that i'm embarrassed to think about the next day.

what's even worse than acting like a fool? dwelling on it for days after. turning it all over in your head until you believe it's way worse than you originally even anticipated. telling yourself that you should know better, that you're supposed to be more mature than that, more classy and composed.

but honestly? i don't know if that's true. it's probably true that i shouldn't split a bottle of wine with a friend before hitting a four hour open bar, or that i should at least pour the wine into a glass instead of swigging it straight out of the bottle. but i'm only twenty two. i just got out of college. i'm still in that mode. i have no dependents. no car payments or mortgage. i'm in this weird limbo where i have a steady paycheck but no homework and that frequently leads to happy hour. which leads to karaoke. which leads to embarrassing dancing.

point is: i need to take ten deep breaths, remind myself i'm only twenty two and don't need to have everything figured out, and never order whiskey sours again. 

puzzle

 

do ya'll like puzzles? this lady loves puzzles. it's a recent discovery. some improv friends were talking about puzzles and i found myself itching to do one. i've lucked out recently and found some pretty stellar puzzles at thrift stores. the first was a pretty illustrated 70's cat one. this one was a bunch of polar bears on a picnic. 550 pieces. always start by flipping them all over. then finding the edge pieces. then grouping the others. i like the structure of it. and knowing that all the pieces are going to fit together eventually. it'll all work out fine. even when it seems impossible, you can't get too worked up. it's meant to fit together and it will, despite your missteps or dropping pieces under the couch.

dear lawd, i hope that's a metaphor for life.

care for some cheese with your whine?

 

total upfront disclaimer: if you don't feel like listening to a whiny baby, turn your internet butt around. 

Goddamn. Why is no one talking about this mother flipping age? More specifically, why is no one talking about how badly this mother flipping age sucks?

Can we all just come out and say it? That 22 is the worst age ever? (Though I’m sure 23 is a close second.)

Whenever people talk about ‘their twenties’ I feel like they’re referring to 25 and beyond. And before that, everyone just mentions college. At the most, the age bracket of 22-24 is referred to in vague terms. “After college I rolled around.” “Post grad I bler de blah’d.” “Fler de der de dah 22.” Is there an international conspiracy to gloss over this dark age of a year? The only people who actually mention 22 are the beautiful morman mommy blogs, god love them. (you know I read like eighty bajillion a day. And every time I fall in love with a new blogger? You bet your sweet candy ass they’re a morman blog.) But when they talk about 22, it’s in relation to their one year wedding anniversary. SWEET BEANS. CAN I GET A NORMAN PERSON IN CYBER SPACE WHO REMEMBERS THESE DARK TIMES TO OFFER SOME WORDS OF SOLACE?!

Even my mom finally fessed up. As I whined on the phone (the new standard for our conversations) about being 22, she finally sighed and said “Yeah. I feel like a lot of people don’t talk about that.” “That” being the feeling of failure when you can’t find a job after graduation. Or the feeling that comes with finding a job and knowing you’re locked into something indefinitely. “That” being the feeling that everyone else is doing something more meaningful than you. “that” being the idea that you’re not good at anything and you’re’ going to get stuck where you are right now, forever. “That” being all your friends moving back home and talking about how much it sucks and still being jealous that they get to hang out with their moms. “That” being the weird guilt you feel for wishing you still got to live at home. “That” being the heartache that comes with not being able to be yourself at work or work within your skill set. “That” being the state of limbo your whole life is in. And the guilt you feel for being such a little turd about something so many people have lived through before.

I need Christmas asap.

zambonis and mexican brunch

 

someone once told me that's it's better to work on things you're already good at, then try to get better at things you're bad at. though i disagree overall (if i'm bad at parking, but good at eating pie,  i should try to be better at parking! not perfect my pie-eating!), i'm sure this is mostly applicable to the working world and picking an expertise so you become 'lighting guy!' or 'quicken girl!' and not just a jack-of-all-trades, "i dabble" kind of person. but honestly, i go back and forth on it. it would be awesome to excel in one area. be the best zamboni driver in the county and really know those zambonis inside and out. but there are only so many ice rinks - and then, wouldn't it be cool if you were also a roller derby ref? you tried it once and sucked, but you could work on it.

i don't know where this is going. i know very little about zambonis. i would be a terrible zamboni driver. allow me to distract you with a beautiful picture of some huevos rancheros i inhaled this week. i eat like a king when i'm with mikeyaz.

would you prefer to be REALLY GOOD at one thing? or to diversify your skills and just be proficient in a lot of things? which do you think is more valuable? ideally, i would like to be REALLY GOOD at a wide range of skills. but that's a cheater's answer. answer it for real friends!

wednesday? really?

 

 how? why? not fair. these weeks are all just flying by and getting ahead of me and there's no end in sight for anything anymore. and by that, i mean i won't be going back to school in the fall. expect things to get either really depressing or really phsychotic around that time. not sure which way i'll swing on the emotional scale, and it's probably best that we're prepared for the worst. hopefully it won't be so bad that this becomes a poetry blog. that would be a serious turn for the worst. let's all just think optimistically about this one.

speaking of optimistic: i painted some polka dot pants. right now i'm saying it's because of the sorching heat, but let's see if i actually wear them in the future. place yer bets. i can't even predict the outcome. will i drink too much wine and dinner and decide to take them on the town? will auditions for clown millionaire come to town?  will i enter into the witness protection program and be placed in children's book? WHO KNOWS.

and look at the time now! now it's friggin thursday and this post is void! i'm not changing it. ya'll can deal.

floor picnic

my roommates and i have recently been perfecting the living room floor breakfast picnic. we used to have an extremely wobbly coffee table in our living room, but we got fed up with it and decided to draw and quarter it in our backyard (we made some speeches, our friend julie presided in a graduation robe, and we all ripped that unreliable sucker apart.) with no coffee table in the center of the room, we have infinitely more room to dance/picnic/play around. though it's still not enough space for skip-it, unfortunately. totally different story though. 

our living room picnicking usually involves pancakes because SWEET BABY JESUS IN HEAVEN WE HAVE SO MUCH PANCAKE MIX. we're in the process of moving out and we're trying to live off the things we have in our cabinets. which means i've been eating a lot of pancakes. and topping them with peanut butter or nutella or homemade strawberry balsamic jam or the traditional maple syrup. something about eating on the floor makes a pancakes (especially for the 57th million time in a week) feel more special. or taste more delicious. and when you're down, you can easily just slide down into a laying position, perfect for a post-breakfast digestion nap. INNOVATION.

the dream house

 

this is my most beautiful friend's most beautiful dream house. it was designed by the main man behind the city beautiful project and it's tucked back in the historic neighborhood across from our old high school. it has a wrap around porch, a circle driveway (with enough room for a trampoline in the middle), marble fireplaces, a little watchtower, chandeliers - everything everyone wants in a home. liz checks out real estate the way most of my peers check out facebook and tumblr. obviously, buying this property is not a reality for her right now. but i can't wait until it is. choosing to buy a place means committing to a location and being a part of a community. this vagabond period of time that is college/post college/your twenties seems like a good time, but i can't wait for the day i decide to root myself somewhere and make that place my home. i can't wait to see where all my friends land.  

park wine vs. park whine

 

the police officer or rule-abiding citizen version of this post: the title of this post is a joke! of course we didn't drink wine in a park. that's ILLEGAL. and we are all sticklers for rules. this is just a prank post. we were really doing community service. the end.

for the rebels and laid-back folks: wine in the park is the best. it's cheap and it's delicious, especially when paired with ice cream sandwiches and good company. so much of my time recently has been devoted to complaining about the future - my roomies, some of my closest friends from college, are moving out of town and it's hard to see the silver lining in a situation like that. probably because there's not really a silver lining. maybe for them - they're getting to pursue new project and jobs and meet new people and live in new places. but i'm a big ol' selfish grump and i can't come up with any benefits for me in this situation. hence, all the whining. but a better way to deal with the situation is to enjoy the little time we have left living in this big ol' mess of a house by going to the park or picnicking or wearing wigs and lipstick and watching bad movies. that feels so much better than moping around. the moping around can come after they leave town. in the meantime, while there is still ample wine to be had, it seems like a waste.

secret garden

there's a spot on campus that we refer to as the secret garden. considering temple has 36,000 students, it's probably not that secret. but we like to think it is. it's tucked away behind the 7/11, next to a banquet hall used for various campus events and, unlike the grassy area by the bell tower, there's hardly anyone ever there. you have to descend a few steps to get there and the sloping hills surrounding the secret garden are covered in greenery. it's a pretty sweet spot for a city campus.

it's also a pretty sweet spot for impromptu picnics. we've been trying to squeeze in as many activities as possible the past few weeks, before our lease is up at the end of june and everyone leaves. 'everyone' isn't really 'everyone'. but it's some major players. and the end of june isn't even our real expiration date. beth is moving home june 18th to work at camp, then moves to austin in august for grad school. keiran's starting to shuffle her stuff back home the second to last weekend in june. christine is slowly pushing things into trash backs from her move back to new hampshire. even though the people are still here, watching the packing happen is sometimes enough for me to start to feel sad.

i'm no better though - i took home my first load of stuff last week, including the saggy bean bag will all love to hate. it's literally like sitting on the floor, the beans are so smushed. our downstairs walls were covered in posters and paper since the first week we moved in and when i took them down on Monday, you could see clear outlines where the pictures used to be, protecting the wall from the slight sheen of dirt found elsewhere. the house is starting to come apart. pretty soon it won't be ours.

so we're filling our remaining time with picnics and bike rides and spontaneous brunching and wine'n'wigs nights. which i think is the only option. because the other options are solo wine-drinking and crying to episodes of 'cheers'.

home

 

i got stuck at home. 

not really stuck. there was no physical sticking or even physical roadblocks to my departure. i just went to leave and something in my brain or heart or stomach or feet said, "nope. not gonna happen." 

 i think it's because home is so comforting. there are snacks here - not just food. snacks. you can hear birds. there is natural sunlight streaming through the windows. whenever i come home, i feel like a foreign exchange student or like i'm visiting a museum. i wander through the house while my parents are at work and i go through the drawers. i look through old pictures, rediscover things in my room that i tucked away. i wear whatever left-over clothes are in my closet, usually things from ninth or tenth grade. i sleep in my grandma's old night shirts. i lay on my parents bed, i lay on the living room floor, i poke around in the garage and look at my old girl scout sit-upon. i test out the stilts in the garage until one grazes my face and i notice a massive dead spider. it feels like a bit of a time warp. i love coming home because i know this place. or i knew this place. 

if i come home for a short period of time, everything is perfect. i allow myself to have the perfect harrisburg weekend. ciders at mcgraths, okini for dinner, neato for lunch, thrifting at all my local haunts, soothing trips up and down the clean aisles of target, walking the dog with my mom, drinking wine over dinner, talking on the back porch, browsing books at midtown scholar, going to the drive-in or old west shore theater, seeing familiar faces. and then i leave, and my perfect notion of my hometown remains in tact. forty-eight hours in the perfect amount of time to confirm my idealized version of home. 

but if i stay longer than that, little bumps start to surface in my smooth memory of home. i find old papers from high school, whining about how little there is to do in harrisburg and how none of my friends like me. i bend down to pick up stationary at marshall's and am hit with a flash of 'what am i doing here? why am i buying this?'. i pull into the driveway and discover that not only is my front door locked, but i no longer have a key. 

when i told my dad about being locked out and lamented not having a key he jokingly responded, "that's because you don't live here anymore." and it's true. i'm a visitor now. 

recently i've been giving a lot of thought to the idea that choosing one thing, does not necessarily mean rejecting another. by choosing to live in philadelphia post-grad, it's not because i'm turning my back on harrisburg or dismissing it. i'm just choosing philadelphia. that's it. simple. but there's a guilt that comes along with it. am i abandoning my hometown? my life at home is so good - can't i just keep living that? i know if i stayed in harrisburg, i would get bored. i would be trying to recreate the past and it would be sad and never quite the same. i might start to loathe my hometown. i am constantly torn between wanting to pursue things in the wider world and wanting to stay and give back to my hometown and make it a good place to be. i would also be a big fish in a small pond, which is appealing at times. 

post-grad life is a lot of limbo time. i don't want to stay here but i don't want to leave and the troubling part isn't my indecision, but my inability to articulate why.