Thursday, November 29, 2012

Trees, Sounds, Squirrels, Selfish Philosophers

If a tree falls in the Forest, and no on is around to hear it, does it make a sound? 

The obvious answer to that is YES.

Of course it makes a sound. What a stupid question.

Does the sound matter? That should be the question.

So, let's see:

If a tree falls in the Forest, does the sound it makes matter?

I guess No, but only if you don't care about the squirrel family that was rudely awakened in the next-door-tree.



Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Do You Think I Am a Bratty Lesbian?

My Mother is convinced that my "questionable and confusing internet presence" is going to be the cause of unwanted spinsterhood and lead to my dying alone, probably while writing one last, weird, not-funny blog post.

Apparently I am repelling men, not like the original Man Repeller with fashionably androgynous clothing choices, but with my Facebook, Blog, and .... one Youtube song.

Because apparently, the horrors that all these (phantom) men find on the internet when searching my name (like this blog) are just too bizarre to look past.

Because this blog makes me look like an insane brat. (I just always assume people will know that I am kidding, but according to her, they will absolutely not.)

Because, "Caroline, hun, this day and age when the best way to learn about someone is the to Google them, think about what are they going to find on you! And then your only song performance on YouTube is about an angry woman being "Over You"- it is going to make people think you are a scary witch!". And when she says witch, she means bitch. (Not fair, because there is also a shoddy and whited-out recording of me singing "Songbird" at Joe's Pub, which is quite the love song.)

Because when I was in college, and she thought that my Facebook wall made me seem like a lesbian. I commented "I love Ellen!" on a video that someone posted on my wall of Ellen Degeneres. And another post of my freshman year roommate making a joke about "when am I going to see you again and make sweet love?".... To her, it was obvious that this was the reason that some boy -who I forget about now- wasn't texting me. I got a concerned Facebook message from my mom: "Caroline, Are you trying to repel every boy in New York!?!?!?!?". Let this teach us all why we should not be friends with our parents on Facebook.

Also, because: "You never even talk about boys on your blog! That will confuse people!" (yes, I guess I do like to keep a mysterious a-sexuality to my blog).

And no, no one reads my blog.

Basically my mother missed her calling as a "Romance P.R. Consultant & Internet Presence Critic" and so she is giving her services to me for free, whether I ask for them or not.

*

I have heard her go on about this internet-presence-thing for nearly a decade now. And- I even see her point at times. There may be small grains of truth in her absurd worries (I do sort of make myself look like a horrible and crazy person) and I am fully aware of all the things that she considers to be very undesirable. But even with that knowledge and awareness, I still choose to write those undesirable things anyway. So it is apparently a chance I am willing to take.

My mother is trying to protect me from myself and my reckless self-portrayal. In her eyes, I still haven't learned some essential lessons: you shouldn't write your 'diary' on the internet for everyone to see, you shouldn't assume everyone understands the unfunny and subtle jokes you are making at your own expense, and you also shouldn't assume that men aren't obsessed with Googling you to decide whether you are worthy and normal enough to pursue.

But portraying myself as a slightly worse-version-of-myself makes me laugh, and so for better or for worse I am going to keep doing it. And whether I have 4 friend-readers or 100,000 male-Googlers, I will keep on keeping on, making 5 cents a year from Google Adsense.

And luckily for her, she will probably be the only one to read this post.



Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Self-Help Books I Have Known

Whenever I am reading a self help book, I wonder why I ever waste my time reading chic-lit or mediocre comedic memoirs.

Self-Help books are the best, because for about 1 month I am self-helped! I am nicer and happier and more optimistic! It really works! For like a month! Then I return to fearing the world and being miserly with my money and being jealous of people I barely know.

And I figure....a month here and there of being a good person is better than nothing.

Here are a few that have been so amazing until I forgot all about them:

The Secret
I was a freshman in college (and a crazy 'raw vegan'- ugh) when I read The Secret (and watched that dramatic little movie) and realized: Yes, I WAS going to be rich and famous like I had always hoped, as long as I obsessively cut out pictures of things I wanted and put them in a little tin box. Actually I printed them off Google Images, THEN cut them out: Pretty houses. Pretty clothes. Theaters. Skinny people. Strawberries (?). Dramatic Parisian looking balcony tablescapes. Cobblestoney places. Anthopologie looking displays. Gardens. Old Bikes. I believe there was a picture of a rustic, english country mudroom strewn with tartan Wellingtons. I got stressed because if I ignored one part of my life, then it wouldn't HAPPEN, because I wasn't actively manifesting it. Right? So I cut out sillhouettes of happy people in relationships where you couldn't see the faces because it could be ME. Even though the concept was so weird and I was too chill for that desperate ridiculousness. Right? Anyway, in the end, many many happy models were living inside my tin box, manifesting amazing things.

I couldn't make a vision board and put it up like they suggested because that was SO embarassing. It would even be embarrassing if anyone ever opened my box and was like What the Hell is This, Caroline?

Then through The Secret I convinced myself that I should stop being a raw vegan (good) and instead think myself to health and beauty (sort of good). So I started eating cupcakes all-day-every-day, sprained my ankle when my brother tried to double bounce me at my cousin's First Communion, and lay in bed all summer eating chips and trying to think myself healthy- and instead gained like a million pounds.

Well, anyway, this was the beginning of my foray into Self Help Books.

You Can Heal Your Life
This is written by a woman (Louise Hay) who cured herself from cancer by thinking happy thoughts. The main lessons of this book are: to forgive everyone, be positive, and ...other stuff like that. She has a whole list of mental/emotional causes for physical ailments- which is what I primarily focused on- because I hated the idea of her waking up and drinking green juice and lying on her stretching board and THEN thinking happy thoughts. I just wanted to wake up and eat a chocolate breakfast and think happy thoughts. Here are some examples I just googled:

Sore throat – feeling unable to express some message in words, holding in unpleasant words
Leg problems – being uncertain about the future
Pain in the lower back – concerned about money, being uncertain of future money inflow
High blood pressure – being too emotional, unable to find emotional release
Flu – letting others control your life, not thinking for yourself
Hip problems – fear to make important decisions
Indigestion – dreading future events

Just recently I had debilitating upper back pain for about three days. Apparently I am holding in my love. Isn't that nice to know? Sort of?

The Power of Now/ A New Earth
These are both written by Eckhart Tolle and they both essentially say the exact thing. In fact... I have never actually read The Power of Now (but I did actually steal it from the book shelf of my alternative doctor in college -and never returned it becaues I never went back -because she never healed me -and I got tired of taking homeopathy). And in truth, I only read the first 3/4 of A New Earth. But I really was the happiest, kindest, most trusting person you have EVER met for over a month, until I went to Dublin on a College Summer program, and was having a hard time bonding with my roommate because I was so kind and boring and accepting of everyone. (I mean really. That is boring to be around.) When I finally caved and started doing my usual impressions of everyone and making fun of people behind their back, she loved me all the more, and then God smited me by giving me vocal nodes. I'm not kidding.

Working on Yourself Doesn't Work
This is a nice little paradox of a Self-Help Book. This is written by a husband and wife who searched the world for inner peace. Yoga, India trips, meditation, self-help books, affirmations, and realized that none of that shit helps.

The only way to not be a miserable drama-queen is to live in the moment and - that is it. It is a really short book.

However, their "live in the moment" prescription isn't just like, "YOLO!!!!!!!"- its more like "no like, actually live in the moment, like don't think about the future or the past or the not real" (yea RIGHT). My #1 favorite activity is walking around with my iPod (now I guess its my Phone with Spotify) and living in stories that aren't real. People on the street probably think I am crazy or very sad. Or very happy. Normally it is some drama, and the music is my soundtrack. Or in the (distant...) past, it was that I was introducing the Weasleys to muggle music ( and they LOVED IT). Or often I am pretending I am singing the songs that are playing at some logistically impossible to put together Cabaret-of-sorts, performing for anyone and everyone I want to impress. And all the songs were assigned to me by some benevolent song master, so I don't get embarrassed by the love songs.

So, really, it is impossible for me to live in the moment because then I would start live my own life and what would I fantasize about when I walked around?

What I am really trying to say is, if I was forced to live in the moment I would never exercise.

****
I have read (many) more. But I think I will save them for a rainy day post.

I will leave you with this: One thing I will never forget - is this book cover. I never actually bought or read the book because I chose another Self-Help book that day at Barnes and Noble, but I still think about it all the time, and fantasize about the day when I finally do read it- and then can rule the world from my couch.

Friday, November 9, 2012

Holy Caroline

Me

i had this whole story in my head about what if I had immaculately concepted a child
and had to convince the world that I had
and nobody would believe me
"it is ok caroline, you don't have to pretend its an immaculate conception"
BUT IT REALLY IS!

Annie
hahhaha thats why everyone thought mary was lyyying

Me
i know i understand her so well now
or actually
the other half of my story is what IIIII would do if I immaculately concepted
I would be so upset
like does one abort a miracle baby?
jesus #2?
hahahahahahahahahaha
i can't believe i am saying this

Annie
sorry i am looking at COURSES
schedules. online research
jesus

Me

Jesus? you mean my baby?

 little prince of peace

Saturday, November 3, 2012

I Hate Google

You know how Google is using our searches and preferences to bombard us with ads specifically tailored to us?

Well, weather.com made that VERY CLEAR TO ME when it presented me with THIS:


The Big Girls' Bra Sale- the day after I ordered a very specially size bra online. Thank you Google, for helping me remember one of my least favorite things.

Then I started paying attention to Facebook ads, which do the same thing, further proved to me by the following ad for the exact shoes I had just been looking at a few hours before. Followed by: SINGLE & CHRISTIAN? 

The day I join a website called "Christian Mingle" is the day you should shoot me in the hands and take away my ability to browse the internet. Also, YES I have been on a lot of dumb diets, Internet, but unfortunately for Medifast, I have put that all behind me and "embraced" my natural form. Hence my needing to order a new, absurd bra-size (above). 

The internet must think I am really into dating and dieting/exercising. And eating. Probably dating because of that short time on okcupid. Ugh why does that judgement call continue to HAUNT me?! But no, I don't want to join an "internet dating/exercise" website.



And finally:
Ouch. After all that, you think I am a man?

Prostitute Dreams

I know how much everyone loves hearing about other people's dreams, so I am going to explain a dream/nightmare that I had the other night for your reading pleasure.

In the dream, I learned that I was now a prostitute (of sorts). And I was waiting on a large bed with another prostitute for our "clients" to arrive. We were wearing baggy, early 2000s looking t-shirts and jeans. We were very apathetic and low-energy.

I am surprised how resigned I became to my new job right after I learned about it in my dream. There was a sense that I had no choice, so maybe I was a sex slave and I was too afraid to fight my new life-position. Who knows. But I felt quite apathetic waiting on that bed with the other apathetic, early 2000s-clad prostitute.

Then my client entered the room -and it was a chihuahua. I was half relieved and half annoyed. I asked my prostitute colleague if this was for real. She shrugged.

Then all of a sudden the Chihuahua turned into a small dog-sized Tarantula and jumped on the bed beside me.

Oversized Tarantulas are apparently where Dream-Prostitute-Caroline draws the line with her clientele, so I screamed and hit the spider off the bed.

And then I woke up.

Phew.