The Innocent Devil

The problem with Satan is that he uses people as a force of destruction, people who have no idea that they are being used.  They are fighting their own battles and may not even notice that in swinging their sword around, they struck a blow to someone nearby.

I have been haunted for six years by the ghost of a man who had no idea what he did to me.  He was a trusted teacher who never realized that his careless flinging of words cut slashes in my heart.  He was fighting his own demons, ones slashing at his throat, trying to defeat him.  And he became my demon.

He has been the voice in my head saying "you can't do this" in the softest whisper that is somehow so deafening that shouts of reassurance are deadened by the soft hiss of a whisper.  "Do something else."

The sharpest insults are hidden inside compliments, disguised as advice, and said only once but are permanently engraved in my mind.  So deeply engraved that the weathering of so many storms has only softened but not erased the words.  I hope I forget.

The hardest part is to not take up the knife myself, to cut the weather, faded words into the rock afresh, to remind myself that they are lies.  Some days it takes the hand of someone else to pry the carving knife from my fingers and some days someone will hand me the knife, not knowing what I will be tempted to do with it, the temptation to be my own demon and destroy myself bit by bit, carving words again with a knife.

I need the hands of others, and more importantly, the hands of God, to pull me away and let the words wear away with time.  I cannot do it alone.  I have let his face fade into memory, lost in six years of life's trials and triumphs.

Until that face is in front of me again and it's just like I am 16 and want to please my voice teacher again.  He is nothing but complimentary but I hardly believe him because suddenly, I know.

I know the words I've cut back into the stone were said by a man who never knew what he was saying, who never knew what he was doing and was so caught up in his own battle, he thought it was okay.  He was weak, as I am, easily made a demon through distraction, innocent and not innocent all at once, like a child tricked into uttering swear words.

So I will allow him to be proud of me because he has no idea the pain I've endured.  I realize now the words he said have no power in themselves, only in the power I give them.  And I will not be my own demon

The more things change, the more they stay the--well, actually they just change. A lot.

So my last post (some 2 months ago...) with semi-veiled references to a boy I flirt with?  Said boy is my boyfriend now.  Worst timing eve considering it happened two weeks before I graduated from college but whatever.  Life is weird.

Oh that's right... I also graduated from college.  If there actually is someone reading this (which I mostly doubt), I have spent the last four years at Eastern University, a small Christian liberal arts college in suburban Philadelphia, studying music performance.  I also did a brief sojourn in Oxford, UK, and the original purpose of this blog was to document my time there and all that led up to that time.

I also hacked off my hair recently into what is basically a long bob that is a deep auburn.  I did it two days prior to graduation so the overpriced graduation photos show it, plus the ones my parents took.

So with all of these changes (some minor, some significant), the strangest for me is that I am now living at home with my parents and older brother.  Since I've worked summers with Sodexo, I haven't lived at home for more than four weeks at a time in more than two years.  Trying to find a job for the summer, and planning on substitute teaching come fall while applying for my long list of graduate schools.  I just need to find something part time for the summer so I can, you know, put gas in my car and do stuff like that (*cough*creditcard*cough*).  I don't want full time for this summer because there is an unexpectedly large amount of things I need to do before I can apply to graduate school.  More than I was initially thinking.

In other news, in another money making scheme, I am thinking of opening an etsy shop and peddling my crafty wares, giving myself an excuse to create (*cough*buyasewingmachine*cough*).  If I'm going to sell it, it means I can try absolutely everything I find on pinterest, right?

right?

RIGHT?!?!?!?!

1 is the least safe number

There is a certain safety in knowing that if anyone actually reads what I write, no one says anything. That's okay. I'll write to the air.

There are things that I dare not confess here, lest there is someone actually reading, actually waiting to know the things I hide. There is someone who makes me feel very safe. We flirt. A lot. This is dangerous. Oh so very dangerous...

No one reads this anyway, so why not?

At home for spring break and i have procrastinated on a lot of things. Today, I remembered a trick that I saw on Pinterest for removing yellow pit stains from clothes. The original post can be found here:

http://www.onegoodthingbyjillee.com/2011/11/goodbye-to-yellow-armpit-stains.html

The basic premise is this:

1 part dawn dish soap

2 parts hydrogen peroxide

mix, pour on stain, scrub it in, and then allow to sit for an hour or so.

I decided to try it on two of my worst stained items of clothing: my cream camisole, and my 'little miss bossy' tee shirt, both of which I've had a long time and have worn frequently, often in the summer months. I failed to take a picture of them before putting the solution on so here you see them with the solution on them:

Can you hear me now?

Dear World,

Are you listening?

I feel like I'm speaking into a void sometimes, like the only person who hears me is myself. People just don't seem to understand me these days—if ever, to be perfectly honest. I'm in a strange place, I think. I am not sure there is a way for people to understand what's going on in my head without having gone through this themselves—and I would not wish that on anyone. My shoes aren't exactly comfortable to walk in for a mile these days. I have to make adult decisions now, decisions that don't just affect me but the people I love in this world.

My life has changed so much in the last year, in ways I never thought it would—or at least hoped it wouldn't. I think about things differently than I did a year ago. A year ago I would have prayed that a guy would come in and sweep me off my feet. Now, as much as that would be lovely, I'm a little more cautious about what falling in love would do to my life. The good and the bad things. So much to consider, I guess...

Time to breathe in and let everything out

There are some days when getting out of bed feels like it is going to be the biggest challenged I have ever faced. My bed seems to get more comfortable every day, like the springs are gradually conforming to my body shape and I am perfectly nested in my cocoon of blankets. It doesn't help, of course, that I know there are plenty of this facing me once I exit the warm confines of my sheets. Some challenges are small (what do I eat for lunch today?) and some are bigger (what am I going to do with my life?). Knowing they are coming certainly does NOT help me get out of bed.

But up I must get and get a move on because usually by the time I have gotten up, I am running late. And I HATE to be late. This, I think, it what got me in trouble today. I was grumpy because we were running late to church and I think those with me were grumpy with me for being grumpy. Granted, I was upset about a few other things that had happened earlier in the weekend and was acting rather waspish, as tends to happen when I am upset. That is when I am snapping just to avoid the whole crying thing that I have any annoying tendency toward. Its unfortunate because people tend to be upset with me. I suppose that's life though.

I am not sure if there is actually a moral to the story in this blog post, other than the fact that I am at my most bitchy when I feel like crying. And I am well aware of this unfortunate fact but there is little to be done about it, as I'll take that over bursting into tears. Lately I've just been tired and burned out even though we are only two weeks into the semester. I just want a week off and—be warned that I am about to sound like a five year old—I want my mommy. I guess not in the normal sense of a child wanting mommy. I want time with her.

Time has become the enemy. I am afraid of how much or how little I have left with my mom. Months? Years? Decades? Will she get to help me plan my wedding someday or hold my children. The painful truth is that the answer is probably no. Time is so precious and it is so hard to be away.

All of this to say, as usual, I ought to be sleeping right now.

You make beautiful things, you make beautiful things out of the dust

So I've been a little distracted by life lately and therefore haven't been thinking too much about my blog until this evening when a friend mentioned his blog. I've been thinking about/reexamining my life as I prepare to enter a new phase: the dreaded post graduation phase. There are a lot of things to consider now that I hadn't thought about before and for better or worse, my life is much different from how it was a year ago. I don't know whether I ought to be terrified or excited.

I am not particularly sure if anybody actually reads my blog these days. I was far more interesting when I was living across the Atlantic and I certainly didn't update often enough for the casual observer to be apprised of my goings on. And most of my posts were boring descriptions of my daily life rather than witty commentaries on Britain, anyway. Oh well. That was more than a year ago now. I am back to being just boring old music major Caitlin with the overwhelming life and the propensity to raise her hand to answer almost every question a teacher poses. So in case there is someone out there who cares to read the musings of a 22 year old college kid, let us begin.

There are fewer than 100 days until I graduate from college and... something. Move home, for one. The plan is to take a class this summer and become a CNA (certified nursing assistant) and teach some private voice lessons. Learn French. Take the GRE's. Win the lottery. Become wildly successful. You know, normal kinds of things. Oh yes, and never take free laundry for granted again. Man do I miss being able to just wash something if I needed it, not wait until the basket is completely overflowing and threatening to encroach upon the hallway floor.

Speaking of hallways, I live in an apartment, not a dorm. Oh, do I adore living in an apartment. With a bathtub and a kitchen (not in the same place of course). And three other college girl roommates (and one additional male that doesn't technically live here but spends the bulk of his time here). But no washer and dryer of our own.

...Also, its now 1AM and I should be sleeping so this small ramble will have to do!