Love, Rants & Raves (cuatro)

1. it's not impossible. stop being so dramatic. put on your big girl panties and deal.

2. forgive him. forget him. move on. but do each fully. half-assing any of these steps won't get you anywhere but back in his bed hating yourself.

3. stop ordering chicken fingers and fries. don't get me wrong - everyone needs a happy meal here and there. but if you are at a restaurant and what you ordered is just a larger portion of something on the kids menu you might as well just ask for crayons too. nothing is worse than a picky eater. no prize for you.

4. drink some wine with your BFF. i promise you'll feel better.

5. dress up for parties. i'm sure your new t-shirt and flippy floppies look awesome.... on the beach. don't be a slobby slob. they didn't buy invitations, decorate their home and cook all day to serve someone who just rolled out of bed. slip into a summer frock with some fabulous wedges and make a statement. that statement being that you actually take pride in the way you present yourself. your hostess will appreciate it. promise.

6. if someone has a baby that has the same name as your mutt of a dog please keep it to yourself. No one wants to hear you compare their heaven sent bundle to your booger-eyed poodle that you for some reason named Alexis. And if you have given your dog a middle or last name.... might wanna keep that on the DL too. or at least just don't tell me. i can't promise i won't judge.

7. find someone who has your same passion and has figured out a way to make a living doing it and drill them as much as they will allow. don't know anyone? search the biography section at your local book store. even Jenna Jameson has an interesting one. but hopefully your one desire in life is not to become a porn star.

8. if you are single and want to feel fresh then i suggest drastically changing your hair. nothing makes you feel like a new you more than coloring or chopping your three year old do. if you're in a relationship then obviously what your doing is working so continue. want him to break up with you? google Kate Gosselin 2008. that didn't work? well, i guess you'll have to pull a Britney. yikes.

9. take care of your pearly whites. even if they aren't straight they should at least be clean.

10. show gram and gramps some love. ask them about times in their lives when they didn't look like a prune and a cotton ball had a baby. you will be surprised to find out they were probably way cooler than we will ever be.

Love, Rants & Raves (tres)

So lately my posts have been pretty Debbie Downerish and fortunately I am finding it hard to write something gloomy on such a sunny day. It's definitely time for some Love, Rants & Raves for the summa summa time.

1. Some classic Snoop Dizzle will make any summer day twice as bright. So lean back the seat of your car, guide the steering wheel with one hand (10 and 2 is not very gangster) and Laaayyy back. Oh and go ahead and put your mind on your money and your money on your mind.

2. Plan an adult pool party. That's right, no kiddie pools allowed. Slab some steaks on the grill and indulge in your favorite sugar rimmed summer cocktail. Get tipsy. Get a tan. And have a drunken game of marco polo with your bestests.

3. Don't have a pool? Find out what neighbors are headed out of town for their summer vacation and offer to water their plants while they're gone. WAH-La - pool for you. Preferably ask a neighbor without a big stinky mutt in the backyard. If they do have a big stinky mutt go ahead and tell them it's all the rage in Paris to take your big stinky mutt on vacation with the family. Once the family and Beethoven are good and gone, get a little crazy and go skinny dipping at night... but don't do it in their pool. It's just mean to do it in the neighbors pool. Skinny dipping - Good. More than dipping - Not.

4. Find yourself a summer fling. What better way to spice up your summer? Just do yourself a favor and try and find one that has some respect for you and himself. This will help insure that you don't get the herps. No matter how cute the swimsuit is or how rockin' your bod happens to be, that all goes down the pooper when you have herpes of the mouth. So be smart poptart.

5. It's OK if your boy wants to wear flip flops in the summer... just make sure he takes care of his tootsies. I don't mean take him to your local mani/pedi shack for the summer foot package, just some basic grooming will do. If you can get your boy to get a pedicure with you then cool if you're into that. I'd personally rather not see my man nose deep in a US Weekly mag and pink separators between his toes.

6. If he continues to wear flip flops once summer is over... burn them. Seriously. Or don't be so dramatic and lock them up until next summer. However you do it just get rid of them. No excuses.

7. Make homemade iced lattes. I'm not saying this because you need to save money (let's be honest, who doesn't need to save money right now?) but because for third time in a row that I have used my right arm as payment for a venti latte they have not figured out how to put the lid on right. I almost lost it on the barista but he happened to be super gay and super adorable and I asked him if he would go shopping with me sometime instead. Way to take a stand.

8. Be a good friend! It sounds obvious but a lot of you are not being the B.F.F. you once promised to be. And if you think it's their fault because they are too busy for you, you could be wrong. Sometimes when a friend acts like they don't need their friends is when they need them most. So pick up a $5 latte (tell Rico I said heyyy) and take it to her work with an I love you B.F.F. note. Do this or surrender your LYLAS bracelet she gave you cause you have totally not been loving her like a sister.

9. Take your heart and mind and put them in separate rooms. Talk to them both. The mind will probably say it's sick of hearing the heart whine all the time and the heart thinks the mind has a problem listening but try your best to reason with them. Get them to kiss and make up. It's the only way to figure out what it is you really want and need to do.

In the Quiet

Since when did silence get so loud? I think I know when. It had to be around the time that the voices on the outside muted the one inside. When what they said what I needed became more relevant than the things I wanted to need. The only way I can avoid the quiet is to dive into the great pool of noise the outside world so willingly provides us. Beware, a strange security is offered here. Stay here when you can't bear to be in the quiet. You will never feel alone here because there are always others who need to be in this place too. You will find them backstroking in their past, free styling through their futures and butterflying away their dreams. Some are great swimmers of these waters and only allow themselves a few laps in their sorrows. Others stay wading and pruned in a state of wonder, grasping for the remaining memories of the dry land they was once crushed under their feet.

Dive. Get out. Stay.

Dive. Stay. Get Lost.

These are your options. It would seem a very simple choice if one were not so much more difficult than the other. Staying speeds up the process of becoming nothing more than a flash in time and leaving means you must keep the light burning to find your way. So have a steady hand when lifting yourself from these waters and a strong foot of balance. To be able to ignite the light's flame you will first need to dry your skin in the cold of the quiet.

Dry. Ignite. Live.

fixed in the heavens

One of the many gifts of growing up on a farm is the deep, dark blanket of a sky that awaits you each night. Witnessing my first shooting star felt liking catching a quick wink from heaven. There were many nights spent camping on the trampoline trying to fight sleep to wait for these little cosmic phenomenons. Sometimes I would create a list of the things I would like to wish for on my next shooting star.. longer hair, catching Santa in the act, a new pony.. There was always something worth wishing for. Although I don't think I ever used the list. There is something mystical about the moment you witness falling stars. The list seems to fade and God shines a quick light on your heart's true desire. All you can really do is marvel and pray He has read the one you hope for at night.

I still find myself searching for them and, yes, there is still quite a list of currents wishes. But now when a star falls i simply wink up at the sky. I know He's got a plan and I am more than ready to start building by using the very same tools that fixed the stars in the heavens.

Stage Life

Elisabeth Kubler-Ross introduced the five stages of grief in her 1969 book that was based on dealing with the loss of a loved one. She describes the five stages you will typically have to endure to get back on the path of a life with some promised normalcy. Reading them made me wonder if I could successfully apply these stages to other areas of my life. It took me a second to realize I had unknowingly been using these stages to prepare for the loss of something similar in importance: the loss of my greatest Fear. I happily discovered that I was not at the beginning of these stages or even in the middle but in fact I was rounding the corner to a long awaited finish line.

Stage 1: Denial
What a sweet and slow poison it is. You know you are in for trouble at this stage. It is a small challenge to fool another but to actually convince oneself that a lie has taken on the colors of truth is quite an accomplishment. You have covered your eyes and foolishly continue to describe your surroundings.

Stage 2: Anger
What do you expect? Of course you are angry, you've been tricked. What's worse is it was not the doing of an other's hand but your very own. You're gonna need to put the gloves on for this round.

Stage 3: Bargaining
This would be procrastination's BFF in my eyes. You are no longer upset but you're unsure that you really want to deal with it all. You finally see just how much work will go into fixing it and suddenly you don't seem to have the time. You begin busying yourself with being busy. There are no concrete results from this but you are sure to tire the same.

Stage 4: Depression
I believe most go through stages 1-3 more than once. You bargain yourself right back into the warm arms of denial. Once you have finally passed that stage you find yourself flat on the floor of stage 4. There seems to be so much time you have willingly wasted by trying overcome your fear. The sands of time have somehow escaped your fingers too quickly and you will feel the need to scrape for the remains. Dig too deep and you will find yourself buried.

Stage 5: Acceptance
You look back on the journey and no longer see mistakes but lessons. The fear was there and in moments you were consumed but never broken. Promise yourself that it was a part of who you were but will never determine who you are or will become. In this stage you must be able to see your reflection and know that you are going to be okay. But you will never complete this step until you truly believe that statement. "I'm going to be okay." And you wouldn't want to go fooling yourself now, would you? Because we all know that is the quickest path to the home of our old friend Denial.

Love, Rants & Raves (two)

1. Rub-a-dub-dub in your tub. Whip out the candles, Epsom salts, bubble bath and your rubber ducky. Get serious about your bath time. Send your boyfriend/hubby out for a beer with the boys (I'm sure he won't be too upset about that) and drop the kids off at your mommas house for a couple hours so you can make room for some you time. Turn on a sweet ass playlist and drink wine in your tub until you are a certified prune.

2. Skip the sale rack this week. I know, I know, times are tough, i get it. But you shouldn't underestimate the major self esteem boost that can be found in the zipper of a full priced ensemble. Still need to justify it? Just make it a classic piece. Don't bring home a $300 plum & navy striped skirt no matter how "amazing" & "totally hot right now" the dressing room guy says it is. No one is going to believe you when you claim you'll where it to your reunion that's 3 years away. Get real.

3. Stop ignoring your 'change oil soon' sign. No one hates waiting in that greasy waiting room watching Ricky Lake reruns and getting checked out by a real life Homer Simpson for 2 hours more than I do but you must endure this. It's just not worth effing up your car and having to sign half your life away in bills a few months later. I've learned the hard way so just take my word for it. This goes for brakes too. Nothing is more irritating than having your windows down while enjoying your it's-actually-not-blazing-hot-outside-thank-the-Lord playlist only to have someone pull up next to you with what sounds like 3 screeching kittens under their hood. Don't be the ruiner of the moment.

4. Repaint your nails or take off the paint all together. Yes, you. Look at that chipped blue nail polish. That's a big no no. I am guilty of this myself but am getting better. My mother always told me it was trashy and no one likes trash. This goes for the toes too. But try and keep those painted. There are very few people who can pull off the nude toe look.

5. Make a coffee date. Get crazy and order a venti and talk the afternoon away with a pal. Or go by yourself... just bring a journal or something to keep you occupied. There is nothing normal about having a conversation with yourself out loud... in public anyway.

6. Stop box coloring your hair. Just stop.

7. Write a sweet note in lipstick on the mirror for your lover buns to find. Be sure to kiss the mirror too. He just might invite you into his morning shower... & that would be a great way to start a sure to be crap filled Monday.

8. Love yourself. I know I say it all the time but I believe we can't be reminded enough of this. Sadly, it is so easily forgotten.

love, peace & chicken grease

and now we sink.

It starts by waking up out of breath one morning and you quickly get the feeling that you have lost something. You reach for your phone and it's there. You search for your keys, your favorite necklace, your purse, your wallet, a credit card and it's all where it should be. Even the dog is flopped down in his usual spot. But the feeling is still there.

So you begin to believe you've missed something. What day is it? Friday? What's the date? Is it some one's birthday? Was I supposed to mail out that bill yesterday? Is it my day to pick up the kids? Was there a meeting today? You tear through your schedule trying to pin down what it is that you've missed because you just know you've missed something... right? No, you have not missed anything. And when you realize that is when you feel it.

Nothing is lost and you have not forgotten to water the plants or call your boss. Instead of losing you have blindly gained something. It now feels as if there is someone following you. A presence you can't describe and only see when it thinks you are not looking, a quick glance from the corner of your eye. At first it feels like a stranger then becomes a stranger who you could swear you have met before and finally it will become apart of you. You take it in as an extension of yourself, making room for it at the dinner table, offering it a cigarette on your break, even making room in your bed so it's obscure being will have a place to rest. It will be on it's best behavior at first and you begin to think you can willingly adopt this thing into your life. But you will only think this at first.

It will begin to act out. It will leave sinks running, push plates of food from the dinner table and let the dog out the front door. You will start to blame those you love for it's actions. They will be the reason things are going wrong and you'll feel you are realizing it's been their fault all along. You begin to drift from the rest with your arms wrapped securely around it. You must protect it, you are all it has and slowly it is becoming all you have as well.

Then one night you will be in bed and your lover will try to hold you and for the first time it will feel foreign to both of you. He just can't get close enough or seem to put his hands in the right place. It becomes uncomfortable. Your lover will turn and weep because he has forgotten how to hold you. You will turn and weep because you know that it is not him but because you have allowed it to lay between you.

Two things will happen the next day. Your lover will have his suitcase packed or you will pack your lovers suitcase. If you pack his suitcase there will be a goodbye and if you don't a goodbye still remains. You look from the corner of your eye to the comforting shaded figure and wonder if you can leave it. After all the reason it acts out and demands your attention is simple: it is a manifestation of every rotting and blooming fear inside of you. Living with it will be difficult and lonely but it will be familiar and, the most dangerous of words, comfortable. Saying goodbye to it will require you to allow your lover completely inside, to have him see you for the imperfect mess we all are and to single handedly murder your fears.

So, if you are wise, you will beg your lover to stay and he will agree and let you have your moment to say goodbye to it. You will draw a warm bath and invite it to join you. This is the only time it will concede to letting you see it's face. And what a hideous face it will be. The face is disfigured by doubt, wrinkled with rejection and invaded with tumors of self loathing that pulse from it's features. At first this will make it easier to do what you have to do but then the familiar warmth of his comfort will come over you. It will remind you that by allowing it to stay you will never have to face this again, never have to confront this bound flesh of fear.

You must be strong here and continue. You must guide its mangled face beneath the warm water and hold it there. When the struggle begins you will start to mourn your decision but you will continue and soon there will no longer be movement between your shaking hands. It is then that you will also sink but when you hit the bottom it will be next to the start of a path. A path that was created by fear but will eventually lead to what we all hope to find: the beating and bleeding heart of love.

warm weather makes me reckless.

"There are no good girls gone wrong - just bad girls found out."

-Mae West

"If a girl looks swell when she meets you, who gives a damn if she's late? Nobody."

-J. D. Salinger

"Curve: the lovliest distance between two points."

-Mae West

Love, Rants & Raves

1. Celebrate Life. That is what I'm suggesting for you as well as me. In fact, let's talk about things we can celebrate.

2. Celebrate your body. Stop calling yourself a fat cow. Seriously, stop it. Right now. You're body is capable of some pretty incredible things and it really doesn't need your potty mouth constantly yelling at it while it's trying to get you through the day. Shame on you.

3. Celebrate your country. Be patriotic for a change. You don't have to go tattoo the American flag on your chest but maybe really pay attention to the words of the pledge and let your chest swell with some pride. Maybe let a soldier go in front of you in the grocery line or simply thank them for the risk they are taking or have taken on our behalf. Whether you agree with the war or not you should still have the decency to respect those who put their lives on the line for yours.

4. Celebrate our world! Spend the day outside and admire the weather, whatever it may be. Go on a walk and pick up any trash you find along the way. No one likes a litter bug! Maybe even get a little crazy and recycle what you find. Be kind to mama earth.

5. Celebrate the wonderful people in your life. Call someone who you know would love to hear from you, go take your Grandma some flowers or buy one of those 'just because it's Tuesday' cards and give it to your sweetheart. Maybe even take it step further and call that person up who needs your forgiveness or even more importantly needs an apology. Swill that big fat pill of pride and make room for a little warmth in your heart.

6. Celebrate your Faith! Go to church people. I really need to take my own advice on this one. We could seriously all use some Jesus in our lives.

7. Celebrate YOU! Be that sunshine you seek from others and start with making your own light. Smile because, thankfully, your body showed up to work today! Turn on a good song while you make dinner tonight and dance on those wondrous and capable feet of yours while you cook a hearty meal. Start your day out with loving yourself... this way you will be more capable of fully loving others.

"Above all, be true to yourself, and if you cannot put your heart in it, take yourself out of it."

Eat Your Words

You always end up eating your words. Try and make them tasty.

There is no level of surprise when I stare at what lays on the plate before me. I knew they'd find their way back to me, they always do. My words. The very ones my tongue pushed forward and lips embraced in effort to release into this world, floating and awaiting judgement. I am sad to say each bite is not so savory. Only some bites seem to drip with the sweet juices that justify the barbaric gesture of licking your plate until it shines. Some of the words are pushed about the same way a 4 -year-old's fork dances around steamed broccoli. This dance can't last forever though. We all know you must eat your veggies before you are allowed to leave the table.

These words are tart and plentiful. Rigatoni of regret swirl about your fork seasoned with peppers of procrastination potent enough to make the nose run and eyes tear. But still they are swallowed and even choked down in efforts to satisfy the hunger. There is an emotional starvation within that needs to thrive and sadly when the sweet and savory run dry, like any starvation, you reach for what is available. Even the most rotted memories gain a level of appeal, anything to fill the greedy belly of the mind. Chunks that have been heavily marinated by the past are gratefully spooned into the forced openings of our being. And we will welcome these poisoned substances as if they were the sweetest of sugars because they have one purpose in common: They fill a place where there could potentially be nothing. And for reasons unknown we will fight to suck each drop of juice from the decomposing fruits that fall from the branches of the soul rather than taking the risk of feeling what it's really like to be fully empty.

Color Me Beautiful, Baby.

Oh, how easy it is to get down on yourself! Sometimes it honestly shocks me how comforting it is to slip into the easy chair of sorrow. Just a few weeks ago I decided to cut alcohol and refined sugars out of my life for 50 days. I just wanted to feel somewhat healthy for awhile.. Waking up with the stale taste of a long night in my mouth was just getting old. So I embarked on this little journey with as much determination as I could sweep up and prepared myself for change. The first week was hard. Seriously, hard. The sugar didn't really bother me, I'm a spicy/salty girl myself, it was the drinking.

You always hear that people who have substance abuse problems never think they have a problem. And those people are so silly because it's so obvious that they have problems, right? Maybe that line between okay and not is a little more blurred than I imagined. No, I'm not saying my life should be put on hold for rehab but I am okay with admitting if hadn't stopped when I did I was only a few bottles of Kettle One away from my personal invitation.

So, how did I recognize that I missed the booze a little too much? It was facing my daily emotions sober that really knocked me on my arse. I mean, who really cries sober? In my former opinion that was simply for the weak at heart. But there I was on day 4 without my most beloved friend Mr. Merlot and sure enough there were tears falling slowly and then furiously. This was the last thing I expected to happen as a result of cutting a few vices from my diet. If anything I thought I was going to lose a couple lbs in the process and be on my marry way to a congratulatory shopping spree. But there I was balling like a baby in sunset cast traffic. Awesome idea Charlotte.

But it was in fact an awesome idea. Because once you have a chance to mourn the all the shit that is going wrong in your life you are faced with another choice: pick that bottle up and drink that frown upside down or actually do something about it. I surprised myself and continued my non alcoholic (and sometimes painfully boring) journey. I layed out a plan for myself. I was going to face some serious fears. And I did! I was slowly flicking each stone that weighed down my chest and began to feel the heavy wheeze become a gasp for this increasing fresh air.

And then I failed. On day 24 I gave in to a very convincing red sangria. And you would think it was because I had had such a terrible day but no this was not the case at all. It was a gorgeous day and everyone around me couldn't help but notice that I was much lighter in a mental and physical sense. And this is when I assumed I was in control more quickly than I had expected. My reasoning? I had made it 24 days! I deserved just ONE drink, right? Ha. Silly me. One drink ended up only being four and I did have a great time. I was finally completely in control of me. I thought I had finally figured it all out. This was the Charlotte I loved and wanted to be and share with everyone around me. It was the next day when one turned into 10 that I knew I had thrown in the towel too soon.

That was two days ago and I cannot express to you how intense the emotional boxing match within has been. I became so angry with myself. And there is only one way to turn when the shame hits and that's to put a drink in my hand... but something stopped me today, a quote actually:

The next time you think about something wonderful, please don't forget yourself.

It was a much needed smack in the face. So I hit a big bump in my road and I could label it and add it to my list of failures or I could start a new list and entitle it Lessons. And I am doing just that. Lesson learned. Not one I'm proud of but it's not going to stop me from continuing to better myself. I have 24 hard earned clear thinking days under my belt and I'm not discounting them because of 2 kinda shitty ones. I was so afraid it would affect people's perceptions of what I was attempting; make them less proud of me. But you know what? I'm proud of me. I am damned proud of me and that is more than good enough for me. I have the control to pick out the colors and thoughts that will fill my days and today, and hopefully for many more to come, I choose the color beautiful.

Love, Rants & Raves

1. Invest in a really comfy pillow. Seriously, splurge on a luxurious ball of fluff to lay your head on when you hit the hay. Sleep is so precious and no good night should be spent on a scratchy pillowcase.

2. Go through your old photos. And I don't mean just a couple years back to your high school days so you can compare your younger body to the older version you now inhabit. I mean pull down those dusty boxes of your family and baby photos. Find pictures of your parents when the love was young and unsure, your mother cradling you for the first time and the arrival of younger siblings. Find your grandmother as a teenager, agile and sharp with a beaming smile of curiosity that your eyes will never have the pleasure of witnessing in person. Watch how their journeys have slowly paved the stepping stones to your own. After, life's heavy load may seem that much more bearable.

3. Cleanse your body. I know it's fun to be reckless but it's the only body you've got and it deserves some serious maintenance sometimes. So eat your veggies, drink some water and get some deep shut eye. Maybe get crazy and talk a walk after dinner. You can always return to your debaucherous ways.

4. Read a book. Do I really even need to justify that one?

5. Have a game board party. Seriously. Get your childhood favorites.. Whip out Connects Four, Candy Land, Guess who, Clue, Mouse Trap or a good old game of War... Whatever you loved playing when you were a wee one. You'd be surprised how fun it still is to partake in a fight to the death of Hungry Hungry Hippos.

6. Be kind to strangers. I know its sometimes hard to understand why some people are even allowed out of their homes but you don't know their story. So even if it is through gritting teeth, smile and wish them a good day. Help an old lady or overwhelmed mother with her groceries or give a kid a dollar to play the claw machine.Or offer a loved one to take their kids for a night so the parents can have a proper night on the town. I imagine there is nothing more refreshing for their love than to get drunk and make out in the backseat of their truck like they were the kids again. Just do your deed for the day. It's consistently rewarding.

7. Write someone a letter. Not an email or a text. A letter handwritten with scribbles and all. It will be less of a message and more of an extension of yourself. Even if it's just placed in your own mailbox for your spouse to find it will be a sweet relief tucked between the mean faced bills.

8. Love deeply, use everything in you to make it honest and, of course, love often.

"Children show scars like medals. Lovers use them as secrets to reveal. A scar is what happens when the word is made flesh."

-Leonard Cohen

One of my all time favorite quotes. Cradle your scars. They are the only evidence we have of a life that has faced fear and persevered.

Lace Yourself with Love

If you were to get a glimpse into my bedroom on a night a little more than a year ago you would most likely have witness a scene that became my lovely ritual for some time. My favorite black candle would be lit, a lip stamped wine glass on the nightstand, the stereo crooning and i would be wrapped in some sort of black satin or lace concoction... Probably waiting for someone to come over, right? Hardly.

One part of the scene I left out is that I was usually surrounded by books, pads of paper and pencils. This was my way of indulging in Me Time. And I suppose it usually included what a lot of women's me time does: bath, candles, wine, books, music... The only thing a little different in mine was that the lingerie was just as important, sometimes more, than any candle lit or wine sipped. And lately my me time has been spent in a variation of random t-shirts that I have no idea how I've managed to acquire (we all have a few of those) and mismatching socks. It wasn't until I picked up the recent Victoria's Secret catalogue that I remembered how much I had enjoyed dressing up for myself. Maybe I'm just crazy but I really did love it. It brought an entirely different level of indulgence into the picture. The best part? When you grow tired of reading your self-help books in bed just get up and put your favorite pumps on, transfer the tunes to the kitchen and dance while you drizzle some chocolate over that Ben & Jerry's. It may sound a little self-indulgent but this is called 'me time' right? And I promise after a night like this the sway in your hips the next day will have the whole office wondering what glorious adventures took place at your pad the night before.

And if all that just sounds like too much then just try sleeping in something slinky once in awhile. Yes, even if you're single (a plus is it usually sets the tone for some unforgettable dreams). And if you're attached? Well, just tell your boyfriend I said you're welcome and I'd be more than happy to accept thank you gifts : )

Here are a couple of my fave songs to set the mood:

Feelin Love- Paula Cole

Give it to Me right - Melanie Fiona

Addicted- Saving Abel

exes & ohs

Anyone But You

You are not welcome here. This is a land designed from the fragile fabric of my fears and desires that I am only permitted to visit when my clouded mind hits a sullen pillow. There are many places where I don't have any control over your presence but I have to insist that this is not one of them. I demand to know who let you in.

You probably believe you have every right to be here. That's so like you. Always accepting the credit before doing the work. And for all to long I believed in this alluring ethic. You asked all the questions and i too quickly let the answers dance from my tongue. I should have seen that you were storing them in that place inside of you that gave you permission to label them to be your own. I provided the seeds, the holes were in our souls and together our tears watered that garden of deception. You handed me a blindfold of promises and quickly plucked each dark flower and left me with rotting stems. When the promises finally ran out and the blindfold slipped from my naive eyes, you were already long gone, only leaving a trail of wilting petals and lies.

I am to blame. I want you to know this. I handed you that key to every room of my being and silently witnessed you take hold of any hope that dared to attempt flight inside. That is the shame I still carry and beg to leave me be each night. I struggle with it the most in the land my dreams lay me down upon. To see that someone has allowed you to step foot on this soil is almost enough to send me back to that vulnerable state you so sweetly carved out for me. And just when you begin to walk towards me holding out those beautiful lies something tells me to reach into my pocket. This is when I pull out a mass tangle of roots dusted in soil and am reminded of the strength I should have known was always there. They are the roots from our disheveled garden and they finally belong to me and only me. You may have escaped with the first bloom but soon people will start to notice the increasing bruises on the veins of the petals followed by their demise. And when they request more of these flowered creations you will look to my flourishing garden only to find that the wall around it has been rebuilt. The bricks are now held together by the strength you always feared I would discover I had within me. I will meet you at the gate of my garden and hand you a seed of thanks for being the first to successfully break me. And it is not until you have been broken that you can see each piece of yourself and learn how to abandon the fear of the cracks that may show once put back together.

Fading Soldiers

This is a picture of me and my 20 year old younger brother David Lee Crow. David Lee is a talented artist, musician and writer and will be the new guest blogger for WastedYoungHearts. This is his first entry and we are going to try and make it a monthly contribution to my blog so show him some love. Let me just express how immensely proud I am of the incredible artist he has become. I love you David Lee.

-Charlotte

Every single day, millions of people wake up and put on their man suits. Armys of these robots sit at the designated quarters in
their self-assigned beehive tap tap tapping away at their worker keyboards, blank faced and staring dully forward calculating their days work.
A life-time ritual lived on auto pilot.
A sadistic scheme created and instilled in the minds of the mediocre by the rich and wealthy.
Honestly; how does one grow in a world of such cultured vibrancy and surreal wonder,
A world with a consistent vibe beating through the ages and constantly leaving its trace on the mind
through memories, the present moment, and that which has yet to have happened and STILL slowly become something that
represents everything that is opposite?
We are all canvases, the choices we make and events that occur in our lives decorate our inner and outer image with splattered paint and penciled precision, elegantly exposed and beautiful in our own ways.
With an overwhelming 6 billion people breathing right now at this very moment, I am forced to assume that it is simply the destiny
of many to carry a blank canvas. To exist as a tool, a gear in the machine of humanity and to forever live unaware of the intoxicating
emotion of truly feeling free and infinite.
To have never come to that point in their life in which they will have reached a climaxing realization of potential and ability
that devastates and destroys all negative thoughts and emotions that ever had a slight chance of conquering their goals.
For those who do have this, they are the creators, the composers of their own orchestras, the aspiring and the inspired who
wield this weapon of possibility with confidence and proof. This weapon I speak of is passion, its ammunition is love, and the
battlefield in which it is fired is our lives. With that being said, good luck soldier.

Here are the links to David Lee's music & art projects:

myspace.com/davidleecrow, myspace.com/theirishfront, myspace.com/drugsthemusic

In the Name of Love

The dreaded day is coming people. February 14, 2010 is just around the corner. And it seems that most the blogs I have read are doing some pretty heavy bashing on poor ol' Mr. V-day. For the past few years the day of lovers seems to have become the day for people to hate people who have lovers. What a shame.

This Valentine's Day I am going to have the same valentine for the second year in a row and couldn't be more excited. You might be thinking this is the reason I still have mad love for this corny holiday but that is not true. I strutted in the single pumps for a very long time. Some years I did have dates on v-day but it was never with a boyfriend and that's just not the same. In fact I didn't have my first real boyfriend until last year. I was way more interested in partying and friends to be bothered by some high school boy that had most likely already slept with one of my friends and would just try to tie me down for 2 of my 4 years of high school. No thank you. This year I am celebrating a love that I patiently waited for and I believe is well deserved.

I can't lie, there were definitely v-days where my heart felt like a small pincushion and every bouquet of flowers without my name on it was one more sewing needle pushed right in but I never resented their love. I've even been in the position of poor Gretchen Wieners when even Glenn CoCo received a candy gram and I sat empty handed. I still rooted for him. You go Glenn CoCo. What I'm really trying to say is there are ways of celebrating the day of love without staring into the eyes of another over a candle lit dinner. Think about it - it's the day of LOVE not just lovers. And I assume it is pretty safe to say we all have many forms of love in our lives. Remember how fantastic it felt to receive those little store bought valentines in your classroom v-day mailbox? Even if it was just from your best friend or the boy who sat in the back row and picked his nose it still made you feel pretty damn special. So go pick up a box of Hannah Montana valentines and check off the names on your 'special to me' list. Or get real cheesy and whip out the glitter, construction paper and doilies and make your Grandma something she can stick on the fridge. So what if you're 25... In her eyes you'll always be her baby girl.

Another timeless way to celebrate this day is with your fellow single ladies. Cook a fabulous meal, rock out to some Beyonce, drink too much wine and man bash all night! You can celebrate your hate for men as long as you are also celebrating the joy of friendship! And if you are completely desperate for some action on v-day just make out with one of your girlfriends and the next day blame it on all the vino you guys drank. Harmless, really.

My point is you can choose to make it a day that shines a light on your unoccupied side of the bed or you can just make it a day of love in general. Curl up on the couch with a friend, family member or beloved pet (even if it is a goldfish) and watch the notebook over a box of tissues. Just make it a point to laugh through those tears and remember there really is a Noah out there for you somewhere although, let's be honest, probably not quite as perfect but that's okay cause there is a reason he is a movie character. Simply try to fill your day with chocolate, flowers and love! Even if you don't need the calories, ordered the flowers on your own and are simply working on loving yourself.

Happy Valentine's Day.

i wear entirely too much black

This should be my room.

& this is basically my wardrobe.

Dracula much? i think so.

Lay with Me

I woke up like that again this morning. My eyes parted without reason. No alarm or disruption. Just the eerie feeling that comes when waking from a dreamless sleep. For me this is worse than any nightmare. It's too similar to being put under before an operation. A black sheet falls over your mind and for awhile you do not exist in either known world. You simply experience the paralyzing realization of nothingness.

I crawled outside of myself and stood at the foot of my bed staring at the girl laying on my pillow. She seemed unfamiliar. She looked like me... pale skin with a few misplaced freckles on her body, chestnut roots fighting vast strands of blond hair loosely held back by a half tied red bow and half moons of eyeliner below her lids the result of another late night I'm sure. I stood there examining her the way you would examine a picture of a picture and for the first time in far too long I felt for her. Not a feeling of remorse or pity but a feeling comparable to finally remembering the name of an old friend you ran into or when you remember what you had wanted to say when you were sure you had forgotten. I suppose I just recognized her. As tempting as it was at first to just walk out the door and start new, I couldn't leave her laying there with her fists curled beneath her chin and bruised knee peeking out of a sea of covers. I was there to stay. I crawled right back beside her and placed my hands over hers and felt her battle ready fists slowly melt into my own.

The Edge of it All

“I want to stay as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge you can see all kinds of things you can’t see from the center.”

-Kurt Vonnegut

When you read this quote from the late yet brilliant Mr. Vonnegut don’t be surprised if for a few moments the way you view the present suddenly shifts. In those moments there is an intoxicating combination of panic and delight that runs through your veins faster than any dirty martini could dream. A fever for adventure sears your skin and you can almost swear that Kurt Vonnegut himself has given you the long awaited permission of living the life you’ve always desired. You can already see your windows rolled down, suitcase packed, regrets in the rearview and an unending pavement of promise. You don’t care where you are going as long as it allows you to escape the center and dance along the edge.

As beautiful and enticing as this vision sounds, reality will quickly smack you in the face. What about children, your husband or boyfriend? And then there is always mothers, fathers, siblings, friends, careers and let’s not forget the dog (or kitty if you’re anything like me.) And all at once, as vivid and real as this scene seemed only seconds ago, it becomes equally impossible. You may begin to sulk but that packed bag and open road is quickly abandoned with something as simple and beautiful as your daughter’s laugh, a lover’s embrace or wine with an old friend. You soon realize there is immense beauty hidden all throughout the center of your world. Life on the edge will just have to wait. Or does it?

The reason I started this book club was so that I could not only look over the edge but so that I would be able to take you with me. I wanted a group to be able to witness the lives and trials of colorful and dark characters alike and not only for our entertainment but for our benefit. To improve or to rediscover ourselves through the turns we make when slipping into the shoes of another. To ask ourselves what choices we will make in the world that lies in these pages. And most importantly, who will stop at the edge and who will simply keep walking.

The Mean Reds

It's been awhile. I apologize for my silly little writing funks I so often find myself in. I hate them, I really do but they seem to be inevitable. Always lurking around my corner, ready to rain on my parade. One morning I wake up with a bright future intact & the next I have a serious case of the Mean Reds. If you're not familiar with this term it comes from one of my all time fav flicks Breakfast at Tiffany's from the superb character Holly Golightly.

Holly: You know those days when you get the mean reds?

Paul Varjak: The mean reds, you mean like the blues?

Holly: No, the blues are because you are getting fat or maybe its been raining too long, you're just sad that's all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of. Do you ever get that feeling?

Well, yes Holly I do. I feel like I know it all too well. It's the worst of all of the funks because I don't have anything or anyone to blame. All I know is I feel like my life is surely coming to a close & I'll never be able to accomplish any of the things I had promised myself I would do. Every failure comes flooding into my mind and, what's worse, is I seem incapable of putting them on pages which is exactly where they belong. If they are on the pages they take root in a new home and out of my head. This way I can move on and the mean reds do not claim more than a few hours of my time. But this time that is unfortunately not the case. The mean reds have claimed a week now and I'm terribly sick of them. To try and get to the bottom of why I have them you would think I would lose myself in a novel, talk to loved ones or maybe even pray about it.. But no, I do something that Holly Golightly also puts best in one of her lines of the movie:

Holly: Promise me one thing: don't take me home till I'm drunk - very drunk indeed.

Yes, I hit the bottle... & I'm not so proudly saying I'm not what you would call an amateur either, I hit it quite hard. It's silly, really. Because I always end up in the same place. A week (sometimes more) goes by & I'm sifting through the blurred days & full throttled nights only to discover more pieces of myself that help complete a puzzle of a stagnant life. So what to do? Exactly what I am doing now.. sitting in front of this computer screen with a slight headache and a few mysterious bruises and attempt to paint the pieces of my puzzle with some different shades of hope. But where are these shades? They're inside. Though they may be chipped and faded, I can still feel them and that means I still have the chance. The chance to take control of that unsteady brush & paint the many masterpieces of life's desires.

Paul Varjak: You call yourself a free spirit, a wild thing, and you're terrified that somebody's going to put you in a cage. Well, baby, you're already in a cage and you built it yourself. And it's everywhere you go. Because no matter where you run, you're always going to end up running into yourself.

Banana Love

So I'm currently eating my 5th banana of the week. This might not seem uncommon to some of you but it is WAY out of left field for me. Probably because I've spent my entire life hating those awful yellow things. But I've decided to eat one banana every day for a week. Why embark on this terrible journey? Well, one of my biggest pet peeves is a picky eater. I am a total foodie and will pretty much try anything and 9 times out of 10 i enjoy all new things I try. There are just too many wonderful types of food in this world to constantly be ordering chicken fingers and a side of fries (although they are absolutely necessary in some situations). So back to the nanners.. There are very few things I refuse to eat on this earth and nanners are at the top of the list. To me they are long yellow sticks of ooey-gooey nastiness. Me and bananas are not friends.

I saw this as a problem that needed to be solved. I mean I can't really give anyone crap for not trying new things if I am not willing to change myself. So I decided to start at the top of my list of foods I am not a huge fan of and eat that item once a day for a week. And if after a week of eating them I still don't like them.. Well, at least then I can say I gave it my best shot. And to tell you the truth, my hate for nanners has significantly decreased after these 5 days. I mean, the first day was terrible. I definitely gagged it down and stomped around like a 2 year old while I ate it BUT i did it! And I know it may be something as silly and small as eating a flipping banana but I am pretty damned proud of myself :) Go Me!

I'll let you know how it goes. Only 2 more nanners to go! Next on the list: Cantaloupe. What can I say, I am just a veggie kind of girl.

Oh and how awesome is that picture?! Banana sex. Hysterical.

Rainy Boys & Days

I have always cherished the rain. Living in Phoenix it is a rare treasure that always seems to stop by too late and leave too quickly. When it rains the energy of our entire city changes. Children rush to the classroom windows, dogs race through puddles of mud, everyone forgets how to drive and at some point we all just stand beneath it savoring the shower of our dusted lands. Basically, we turn into a bunch of loony birds from the outside looking in. There is nothing quite like being a part of a desert rain.

Most of the rainy days in my life have been spent single and the majority of those rainy days were spent dwelling on that fact. To me rainy days are more of a painful reminder that you're riding solo than Valentine's Day. I would even do ultra dramatic things like drive in the rain listening to songs about the rain. It was awesome. But this year I am not single and (excuse the extra cheese) I’m finally seeing the rainbows in the storm. There really is no better feeling than lying with a boy and listening to the rain. To be in love on a rainy day is a gift from God. There is just something glorious about watching the cold and wet weather while snuggled up next to your love muffin of choice. And as happy as I am I found myself putting in my old 'Rainy Daze' (Yes, that's really the melodramatic title I gave my mix cd) and trying to conjure up some of that old rain funk I used to get in so naturally. It's weird but I kind of missed it. Does that make me a depressive? I don't think so. Maybe I'm crazy but there is something truly lovely about being in a melancholy state on a dreary day. So now my rainy days are dedicated to a mixture of love/nostalgia and I'm loving every miserable and wondrous moment of it.

So whether your rainy days are spent curled in a ball or curled into another just remember to keep the sunshine in your heart. We are all safe there.

"Save a boyfriend for a rainy day- and another in case it doesn't rain."

-Mae West

Step into the Light

There is a stage in all of us. There are no props or script available just a dimly cast stool waiting for you. It's wooden panels, musting curtains and empty seats are not waiting for you to tell story or entertain, all they are asking for is the truth. Throughout life we learn many faces of deception. We rely on schemes that are capable of curving the spine of truth. This stage is where the major events of life take place. Events that can have hundreds of witnesses in the audience or only you and a chilling breeze. It is our choice where we place ourselves here. You can hide behind the curtains, join the audience, dance around the light or step directly into it.

I'd say my childhood, as well as most others, was spent wrapped in the warmth of the curtains. I was safe here. I could peek through the increasing tears of the dark fabric and catch glimpses of what awaited me. How bright was this light? How much of me can it expose? Who was in the audience? And what in the hell do they want from me? What I didn't expect is that I was not the only person on stage. There were people I hardly knew and those closest to me who had their cameos in my developing play. Some of them would reach out to me for brief dance lessons of love and joy. My mothers always led the dances. Showing me all the steps, reminding me of posture and tilting my chin to the sky. My sister would come quickly after her exit and trace maps in the dust collecting on the stage floor. She showed me where she had tripped, where she had fallen and the ways she found the strength to stand. And as for my father, he gave me what too many little girls go without... He let me balance on his own feet and follow the already beaten path.

These safety characters also play a key role when the new ones arrive. These people have to be invited to your stage and in exchange you learn how to trust. You allow them on stage and some of them offer your dance of life color and vibrance while others do not. They whisper your name in hush tones backstage and leave a lingering foot out to descretely throw your step. What's worse is you see their foot and intentions but are captivated by the beautiful masks they display. So you allow them to stay and depend on your core characters to lift you up when you take the fall. So what happens when the your core leaves the stage.. or they just can't make appearances as often as they used to? Siblings have children and pursue their own dreams and parents have given you the map hoping they've taught you how to find your way. You are left to pick yourself up and this is when the audience becomes interested.. when truth takes the lead.

This happens to be the point I am at on my stage. For the first time I am having to cut existing characters and make callbacks for those who deserve the role. I can hide in the safety of the curtains, join the audience and wait for a show or hold my breath and step into the light.

Bed Bugs

Isn't that the truth. I've struggled with sleep since I was a little girl. It is my favorite thing to do yet the hardest thing for me to attain. I've found that many people claim to understand saying, "Oh yeah, I know you're pain! I'm a total insomniac!" And I'm not upset that they say they are in the same boat as I am... This boat loves passengers! It is just such a letdown when I call my fellow "insomniacs" at an ungodly hour only to hear their voicemail and at that point I'm tempted to talk to the message machine. Maybe talk about how tonight I noticed that I hate the color of my sheets or if they know what brilliant person invented pillows or how my television is currently the most annoying person on the planet and unfortunately my only choice in company.. but then the voicemail would have to be heard by someone who wakes up well rested, sanity intact, and well, I really don't want to explain to them why I honestly don't need a therapist.

It's sad to say there are few I've encountered who can understand how this terrible curse (because at this point I feel that's what it is) is not so cool to have. It doesn't make me more mysterious or creative and (much to twilighter's dismay) it doesn't even make me a sexy vampire.  In fact, it leaves me with dark half moons under my eyes and a need for coffee like a newborn needs a bottle.  Although, my most creative ideas do run through my mind after midnight but I'm usually trying to convince myself I'm too tired to get out of bed to write them down. And if it were just one or two thoughts it would be no problem to remember them in the morning but the truth is my thoughts run rampant at night. It seems as if thousands dance on my memory, their footprints touching just light enough to keep me interested but not firm enough to leave imprints of their shadows.

Where did it start? I know exactly. It started with the dreams. Those awful and haunting dreams. I'm not even sure where they first stemmed from, all I know is that they planted a very dark flower. The most vivid scenes of hurt, hate and, worst of all, helplessness. The worst of them leave me momentarily paralyzed, unable to speak or move, almost a tug of war between the relief of reality and the dread of being pulled back into the darkness. I know it sounds dramatic but if you have experienced this pull you know that this is explaining the battle lightly.

So, what to do? Pills. That's always the answer, right? Well, no thank you. I believe my mind, body and soul are just as strong as any 'I get awsome sleep' sleepers and are perfectly capable of winning this fight. Pills will simply numb the conscious and send me into dreamless black sheets, followed by unforgiving rays of light tapping on my window. To me, these battles are within and as real as the nights they claim. I've learned to deal and will keep doing so. Besides, some nights I am blessed with a dream of beauty and inspiration.. and they offer more healing and promise than any nightmare could ever intimidate.

Sleep tight; don't let the bed bugs bite.