Stupidly (Not What You Think)

"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love."
- Neil Gaiman

Misconstrued

So, Tuesday I went camping. Yes, I went camping. The city girl went camping.





It all started about a week ago as an idea that I really didn’t expect anyone to follow through to completion. I simply blurted it out one day while musing aloud at work with some of my friends (a.k.a. the Cool Club). Somehow, the idea stuck, and to my surprise, we all managed to make it happen.





Soon enough Tuesday rolled around and the four of us (Ally, Nikki, Thomas, and I) left town at noon, riding in two separate cars. Ally with Nikki in her Jeep and I rode with Thomas in his Buick. The day was blisteringly hot, and increasingly humid; I found myself thankful for the Buick’s air conditioning. Before leaving civilization completely, we all decided to stop at a grocery store in Negaunee to pick up some food and drinks.




“Hey, Carissa,” Nikki said grinning at me as she slammed the door to her Jeep.


“What is it?” I asked walking across the parking lot.


“Ally and I were just talking about you and Tom in the car and-“She broke off into laughter.


I came to a stop in front of her. “What are you talking about?” I asked again warily.


“We were just saying that we couldn’t see your head in the car…”


I could feel myself frown as I realized the direction this was going in, but before I could open my mouth to cut off Nikki’s next comment, Ally came up alongside her.


“Yeah, Clariss,” Ally snickered. “We could just hear you in the car saying: ‘Oooohhhh Tom, you’re SO tall!’” They all broke down into peals of laughter, including Tom who had been steadily walking up behind me.




If I had had the proper skin color required to blush, I would have. As it was, my cheeks began to burn rather hot. I secretly thanked my father’s African heritage as I turned away from their laughter and began to walk rapidly towards the entrance of the grocery store. “Fuck you guys. I wasn’t doing anything like-“ I was forced to stop as this only made them laugh harder.


“I was sitting by the window,” I stammered lamely, trying to explain myself, but it didn’t matter. They weren’t listening. I made a derisive sound in the back of my throat and stomped into the grocery store, remembering how the whole “tall” mess started.




On Monday nights at the Villa, I normally manage the kitchen. Ally and Thomas were among my crew this past Monday, and after a highly obnoxious marker war, Thomas and I were having a discussion about height in the middle of the kitchen.


“You’re always whining about how you’re not very tall, Carissa”



“That’s because I’m not very tall!” I exclaimed. “I’m only five feet tall.”


“Well, I was never very tall when I was younger,” Tom said, moving up alongside the silver counter that separated us. “But now I seem to be growing a little bit.”


Late bloomer, I though eyeing Thomas’s skinny form.


“I have a six foot arm span though.” He said matter-of-factly, spreading his arms wide.


I shrugged. “Well Thomas,” I said. “Maybe you just got your height in the wrong place.”

I heard the sounds of muffled laughter off to my left. Ally was giggling over by the cash register with one hand partially covering her mouth.


“WHAT did you just say?” She asked, eyes gleaming mischievously.


“Thomas was talking about how his-“ I started, only to get cut off by more laughter from Ally. At that moment, Melanie (one of the waitresses) came rushing into the kitchen with a whoosh of the swinging wooden doors.


“Did you just say that Thomas has a BIG WEINER?????” She shrieked. Everyone in the kitchen burst out laughing.


“What? No! That’s not what I said!” I turned to Ally. “You fucking Sicko, I did not say that.”


“Hey,” Ally said, wiping the tears from her cheeks with her manicured nails. “All I heard was ‘Well Thomas, maybe you just got your height in the wrong place’ what would you think?”


“I wouldn’t know what you were talking about, but I wouldn’t think that.” I snapped indignantly to increasing laughter. “You shut your dirty mouths, all of you.”


I tried to keep the quaver out of my voice. This wasn’t funny. It wasn’t. I would not laugh.
“Oh, come on Clariss, if you heard me say that to a guy, you’d be thinking the same thing” Ally persisted.


“Fuck you, I would not.” I denied half laughing. Shit. “My thoughts don’t immediately go to sex like some people.”


“Ohhh, Clariss….” Ally trailed off, giggling once again.


I turned to Tom. “I’m never going to live this one down, am I?”


Tom shook his head and smiled enigmatically.


“No, I don’t think so.”





And I didn’t. All night long-hell all week long, Thomas and I couldn’t stand next to each other without having to endure several comments about his height.



Walking rapidly through the grocery store behind Ally, Nikki, and Thomas, I realized to my utter chagrin that not once had Thomas objected to any of the “tall” comments. He probably didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of a reaction. Sure. I suppose, I thought wryly to myself while contemplating a box of fudge brownies, that if there were a bunch of girls running around implying that I had a big penis, I probably wouldn’t say anything either.
“Smart man.” I said to myself.



“What?” Nikki asked, turning around.



This time it was my turn to smile enigmatically.



“Nothing…”





To Be Continued…

I Could Tell.....

I could tell from the minute I woke up
It was going to be a lonely lonelyLonely lonely day.
Rise and shine rub the sleep out of my eyes
And try to tell myself I can’t
Go back to bed
It’s gonna be a lonely lonely lonely lonely day
Even though the sun is shining down on me and I should feel about as happy as can be
I just got here and I already want to leave
It’s gonna be a lonely lonely lonely lonely day
Everybody knows that something’s wrong
But nobody knows what’s going on
We all sing the same old song
When you want it all to go away
It’s shaping up to be a lonely day
I could tell from the minute I woke up it was going to be a lonely lonely lonely lonely day.


-Phantom Planet

And Today's Top Ten Reason Why You Should Date My Friend Thomas...

Number 10: The boy knows how to give a compliment.




Observe:






Carissa: Lol. Ohhhhhhh Im old what can I say Thomas.
Thomas: No, no Carissa, theres a difference between age and maturity. Some people are just more mature than others. Doesn't make you older.






And that LADIES, is what you call a compliment.

Like Hitting A Brick Wall

Hey all, it's been about a month. Sorry it took so long. Life has a way of getting in the way of actually living. Im sitting here in my papasan chair, it's the wee hours of the morning. These last few weeks have been rather long-what with making new friends, various misunderstandings on and off the job, and a rather long, drawn out blowout between a few friends and co-workers at the house on Lincoln street...I find myself emotionally exhausted to the point of being physically sick.






Sadly enough, it was during a regretfully declined, but keenly observed game of "Mad Gab", that I came to realize just how weary I really am. The object of the game is to take a series of words that have no conventional meaning on their own in a sentence, but verbally run them together, and viola!-they have a hidden meaning, a key phrase that must be sounded out. Clever, right? The game, however, failed to draw my fascination. At the most inconvienient times, I tend to be a literally minded person, and at such times, "Nonsense simply makes no sense." Tonight, I simply lacked the imagination required to play such a game, so I chose not to participate, much to the disappointent of my four friends.





"I'll just bake the cookies." I said, getting up from the floor after passing one round of the game. "Besides, I wouldn't be any good at it anyways...." I finished by stating my "nonsense makes no sense" theory.




"Oh come on, Carissa" one of my male companions teased. "So, basically you're saying you're TOO smart to play." I burst into laughter like everyone else, then feigned hurt, saying now I really wasn't going to play after that.




"Im just going to bake the cookies" I sniffed, placing the cookie sheet into the oven, ignoring their pleading exclamations.




"I could really say something to that, but I'm not going to." My male friend piped up again.




"DON'T-even go there." I chuckled warningly, knowing full well what he was referring to. "Mrs. Beauchamp makes cookies too." I retorted to more laughter.




There was an ongoing joke among many of my friends, that, being the eldest and the most accountable-I had somehow been labeled as the "MoM" of the group. A good friend calls me mom jokingly off and on because I reprimand her constantly. Then a younger acquaintance/co-worker told me that I reminded him of his friend's mother. I myself, constantly lament that I am going to end up like Mrs. Robinson in "The Graduate", and just today another co-worker told me that I looked like Mother Goose-to my utter dismay;-)




And so it was while indulging the warm, decadent goodness of premade chocolate chip cookies-I started recalling these comically related but unrelated incidents, and I began to wonder....Did I really think that I was too smart for this, or more accurately, too "adult" to indulge in ordinary, but whimsical (at least to me), and sometimes childish activites? I admit, that I don't exhibit many of the predictable actions of people my age, or at the very least, behaviors that are fairly common within my own circle of friends. I don't drink much, and I've never been drunk. I don't give my trust easily, or make privy the inner workings of my own mind (except here, and even here, in a somewhat limited capacity-given that that are many who may read this) without that trust. I impress rigid high standards on myself, and govern my actions with a stubborn control that lends a rather large degree of inscrutability to my character. Why do I do it? Perhaps because....I really don't want people to know me after all.




Suddenly these cookies don't taste so good after all.

"Sixteen Tons"

A much belated hello to all of you. I do apologize, for I have been quite remiss in my blogging as of late. Alas, I can only chalk it up to exhaustion. I haven't been sleeping at all lately (and I stay up much to late to boot, right Mel?), and when I do it seems I either wake after a few hours for no apparent reason, or linger in that halfway lucid state between dreaming and wakefullness. I recently started working mornings making Lasagne for the Villa, and that has not improved my quality of sleep in any way. But, fear not gentle reader, I shall return with more blogs. I'm starting to work myself into a somewhat decent sleeping schedule, due to a recent road trip that forced me beyond exhaustion-so I had to go to sleep early (either that or go insane).

Well folks, I'm going to read some more of The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova-which is an excellent book by the way. It's about the discovery of a rather odd book, and a set of ominous letters written to "My dear and unfortunate successor" that leads the unnamed heroine in seach of the truth about Dracula, or Vlad the Impaler. The book itself shifts back and forth between decades, showing that history does in fact repeat itself-whether we want it to or not. It is one of those books that is so good, I find myself rather reluctant to finish it. So, I'm taking it rather slow instead of racing through it in my usual fashion. Alas, I am getting side tracked. As I was going to say, I am going to go read my book, and then regretfully retire early, as I may have to work in the morning. I hate to say it, but sometimes, being a grown up just plain sucks.

Some people say a man is made outta mud

A poor man's made outta muscle and blood

Muscle and blood and skin and bones

A mind that's a-weak and a back that's strong

You load sixteen tons, what do you get?

Another day older and deeper in debt

Saint Peter don't you call me 'cause I can't go

I owe my soul to the company store

I was born one mornin' when the sun didn't shine

I picked up my shovel and I walked to the mine

I loaded sixteen tons of number nine coal

And the straw boss said "Well, a-bless my soul"

You load sixteen tons, what do you get?

Another day older and deeper in debt

Saint Peter don't you call me 'cause I can't go

I owe my soul to the company store

I was born one mornin', it was drizzlin' rain

Fightin' and trouble are my middle name

I was raised in the canebrake by an ol' mama lion

Cain't no-a high-toned woman make me walk the line

You load sixteen tons, what do you get?

Another day older and deeper in debt

Saint Peter don't you call me 'cause I can't go

I owe my soul to the company store

If you see me comin', better step aside

A lotta men didn't, a lotta men died

One fist of iron, the other of steel

If the right one don't a-get you,

Then the left one will

You load sixteen tons, what do you get?

Another day older and deeper in debt

Saint Peter don't you call me 'cause I can't go

I owe my soul to the company store...

-Sixteen Tons by Tennessee Ernie Ford

Some People

Some people are pussies.
Some people are dicks.
Some people are assholes.
Some people are pricks.
Some people have talent
And give good phone.
Some people are Vapid
Like there's no one home.
Some people have balls
Even though they aren't men.
Some people like to let others handle their business instead.
Some people like to think.
While others like to act.
Some people are indifferent
Holding their emotions back.
Some people like to laugh
Emotions at the forefront.
Some people sound like a lost little girl when they are drunk.
Some people like to maintain an innocent veneer.
But if you look beneath the surface
The facade becomes clear.
And if you ask me where she was at 1:30 that day,
Well.
I may have a thing or two to say.
Some people have short hair
Some people like to grow their hair long.
Some people like to talk shit at other people's houses
All Night Long.
We may act childish.
We may be immature.
But, you've gotta admit,
We have a certain allure.
So, if you mess with one of us,
You mess with us all.
So, keep that in mind.
The next time YOU call.