How has it been a month since I've checked in here? Jeebus.
I'm 32 now as of 10/16. Too old to be using that non-word but whatever. Too old to be throwing around "whatever" too.
"Whatever" isn't a special word. It's filler than means nothing. Then again, neither does turning 32. There is no universal milestone in the number.
BUT, as a birthday.... I got some trinkets from the mother and lots of love bombs/messages from sweet people. It made me feel significant and special. I love the people who reached out. It was surprising. Shocking.
I spent most of Sunday ricocheting between the Panera on Beltline and the Barnes and Noble next to it. I'm a proud member of the Panera Coffee Club, which I'm sure is a surprise to no one. Coffee > alcohol. Getting drunk isn't fun. I don't like feeling out of control. Having a stunted awareness. Loopy. It's not a good feeling to me. The idea of not remembering doing something the next day is horrifying to me. I want to be hyper aware, bouncing off the walls like Tigger. One of the last things my Grandpap said to me before me passed away was - "Watch your drinking! You have alcoholic genes!" Something to that effect. I can see why he'd say that. I have an addictive personality, but it wouldn't be alcohol/drugs. Not a chance.
Work has been zooming by like one of those brightly lit airport trams from my childhood. Excited for the spooky, rainy chill tomorrow is supposed to bring. I have to make the most of my whimsical Halloween sweaters while I can, dammit! I don't have Christmas sweaters. Christmas is nice, but I'm not... Gaga for it, especially with half of my grandparents spirited away and the fact that most of my family is 1,000 miles away.
Im a bit lighter and happier these days. Writing more. Entered a small contest - nothing crazy significant- but hey, why not? It ALL counts (as practice!) EVERYTHING is material! I just gotta scrape it all up and translate it the right way. Everything that is livable is writable. All human experience. This mangled old couch. Scratched up by my cat. The fact that I have to pee right now but I'm too absorbed in what I'm doing to stand up. Wired but tired. Thoughts flowing and I don't want to lose them. USE IT ALL, Cait!. I don't want to lose any part of my life or of myself. Ever. I would only kill myself if I developed Alzheimer's or dementia. I keep detailed journals of even mundane things. I never know what may serve me later. Maybe a lot of it will be useless - but who can say for now? Time brings perspective. WASTE NOTHING!
Anyways - Have you ever felt haunted by a song? I heard "Wanted Dead or Alive" by Bon Jovi once again this week - I hear that song all the damn time. Its my song! It's so weird. It sticks with me for some reason. It's likely all in my head - it might not be played any more than your typical overhead music or radio fare, but for whatever reason I notice it more. I'm trying to figure out why. It's obviously about a cowboy/perhaps the Wild West. I have an obsession with Thelma and Louise, outlaws, etc., so it may be tied to that. I always found it funny that I literally have the same surname as a Wild West outlaw, perhaps the most famous, Butch Cassidy. He's the ideal criminal to be related to because he never killed anyone. He has been dead long enough to where he's a "legend". There's no one associated with him that's alive, with any festering wounds from anything he may have done, like blow up a train, etc.
I'm mild mannered and quiet, at least that's the easier way to present myself. I think that that's why I have the outlaw obsession. Not "admiration", but curiosity. To be that brazen, risk-taking, thrill-seeking perhaps - what could that feel like? People who live on the edge or who are outliers in general are so interesting to me. Oh yes, and all CLEVER people! "Cassidy" literally means "clever" - I am not great off the cuff, I stumble over my words, ramble, but I can be clever in writing. I'm... Cait Cass. There you go. Caitlin means pure, Cassidy means clever, I'm half of each.
Okay... now I have to pee for real.
Comments