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Aug 30, 2017

What Happens in Vegas

- We moved to the land of Bachelorette parties in June. We'll be here for three years to finish school but will most likely stay after. It's been hard visualizing Vegas as my home. I think it's hard to create a new home anywhere, but especially in a place with so many prostitutes. 

- There are these ratchet black birds that look like their tails went through a shredder; one literally attacked Stephen's head at the park. We hate them.

- You can speed and run red lights here, as long as you do it safely. Cops cover real crime and hourly accidents.

- We live with C's (cockroaches). C's are harmless, even though they're ugly. They sprayed and the c's are slowly dying. C's are gross, but I don't have to threaten burning down our complex when I see one. C's are hungry and thirsty like people, little bug people. I am ok with c's in my home. (I have to tell myself this every day).

- City lights are my jam. Vegas is ugly during the day, but then the sun goes down and the neon lights shimmer the night away. It's easy to find the bad when it's shoved in your face. I feel the most perspective when I drive and see the lights from far away. Added bonus: you can't see as many homeless people in the dark. 

- I've cried more this summer than if I would have dated the whole football team in high school--for reasons that won't matter in the time it takes for me to explain here. But a few weeks ago, I just stopped crying. I started putting a spoonful of faith in my morning chocolate milk and dealt with life as it came.

- I've had a lot of free time this summer and the scorching heat makes it hard to breathe outside. So, I went through spurts of temple going, embroidering, painting, puzzling, organizing, and I've cooked two meals in completion without Stephen's help. I spend a lot of time at grocery stores trying to beat the system and find the most sale items. I've consumed a lot of doughnuts. Sometimes I put a bra on. 

- Basically, we like it here. Stephen loves school and I try to keep my brain active with multiplication tables. We're figuring it out because it's ours. 

Aug 29, 2017

Post Winter Tales

(I found this draft from February and will share because my content here is low)

Just like how you need one sunburn to confirm that you've experienced summer, you also need one sniffle to confirm that you've experienced winter.

My nose runs all day, until the moment I put my head on a pillow. Then, my large nostrils quit the one thing they do best: breathe. I feel stuck, similar to the last raisin in a Sun-Maid box. 

(And that's all I wrote)

Feb 2, 2017

aghhhh

This is NOT a letter to the reader.
This is a letter to YOU.

These past few months, you've felt defeated. Trust me, I know. I can feel it in your boredom, in your extended part-time paid internship, and in the way you over-describe or justify your current--what you call "quarter-midlife crisis." You use time as an excuse. You let what others post on social media control your emotional stability.

and girl, I'm sick of it.

Hey, it's 2017 and you're not going to take your shirt off and rally for women's rights, BUT AS SURE AS HECK YOU CAN FEEL LIKE YOU HAVE POWER OVER YOURSELF. Like c'mon, you let the smallest things trigger the smallest parts of your brain. Isn't there something bigger inside of you that can take on something the size of a jelly bean. I'm sick of wiping away tears when I feel anxious and scared.

So, yesterday (yes, just yesterday), I finally decided to change.
Not my fears,
but how I control my fears.

I came up with this starter kit:

Positive thinking
Better scripture reading
Working harder at the gym
Taking smaller steps
& a LARGE AMOUNT OF PRAYER

Sorry for all the F-words, but I FREAKING WANT TO PUNCH A WALL with all the power I feel inside me. Positive thinking, Carly, THAT'S LITERALLY ALL YOU NEED.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself, stop feeling like you're stuck in an imaginary gopher hole, and STOP THINKING YOU'RE LESS THAN WHAT YOU ACTUALLY ARE.

There 2017, I've finally got this.

Dec 28, 2016

New Things, New Things


I'm declaring the year of the seven as my year.
2016 was a time for learning and strength,
but I always felt it was a heavy waiting period.
You never remember sitting in the terminal waiting for your flight
You remember the flight. The take-off, the stomach turns, the landing--oh, and the peanuts

2016 gave me mountains, that turned out to be hills
and oceans, that were actually streams.
It was a year where I felt like I moved marathons, 
but only moved steps.

A year that I should of accomplished the world,
but instead, stood still.

2017, you can't make me stronger
or fight my fears.
You can't even change someone who refuses to change herself.

But, 
You're going to tell me that I can.
Actually, even better, you're going to push me until I can.
You'll leap off the bleachers, run into the field, and point to the goal where I need to kick.

You'll give me a year of road maps and blueprints,
new beginnings and new endings.

2017, a friendly face that I've been eager to meet. 

Dec 7, 2016

hohoho


Here's proof that we believe in Christmas. Also, I could easily lose my paper copy in a house fire.

Dec 5, 2016

seven parts.


1. work

   “Smart” isn't really my thing, but hard work is. I worked really hard in my 9th-grade Geometry class. At the end of the year, I promised my teacher that if she would change my A- to an A then I would never get an A- again. I kept that promise for the next 4 years, proving that hard work pays off even when your ACT kind of doesn’t. 

2. quirk

   When I was a toddler, my mom made a 5-minute video of my arm twitch to show the doctor. He said I was fine. I guess this was the best-seller to a life of pacing, ankle popping, and leg shaking. 

3. daydreamer

   “In a cubicle,” as written in my sixth grade yearbook to the question, “where do you see yourself in 10 years.” With a class of future writers, NFL stars, and moms, I was the girl in the cubicle. I never knew why I wrote that. Maybe it wasn’t the idea of 8-hour work days, but 8-hour daydreams. Sometimes it’s easier to find the extraordinary when you’re in a congested world of ordinary. 

4. creator

   On creativity: “The universe buries strange jewels deep within us all, and then stands back to see if we can find them.” -Elizabeth Gilbert. And I plan to spend my whole life doing just that. 

5. indie

   Usually a black nail polish wearer; only a gray, stormy day kind of go-er; quite often an independent-type dweller; always a modern art seeker. I promise I claimed fall as my favorite season long before you did.  

6. caring

   If I hurt you, I'll cry. This usually happens through a misunderstanding, which kills me even more because it could have been avoided. I had a minor speech impediment as a kid. My mom said that even though I couldn't speak coherently, I would do everything in my power to make myself understood (a lot of made-up sign language). I will not hurt you through intention, but misunderstandings will forever be my Achilles' heel.

7. independent

   I would never classify myself as an "independent," since I usually break into Kim Kardashian crying face when I'm alone too long. HOWEVER, this somehow describes my 10% stubbornness, 8% pridefulness, and 82% mystery goo that I don't know how to describe. And yes, I used a calculator to find the last percentage.


Aug 15, 2016

marriage: year 1


What I've learned from being married for a year. Part 1 of 1.
  • He tries to solve my problems--especially my lady ones. "Advil and heating pads," he says, "have you ever been stabbed by a small pocketknife," I say. 
  • I let him make the bed with me still in it.
  • He sleeps with his hands behind his head like a baby.
  • I throw out food promptly on the expiration date.
  • He doesn't like it when I pinch his bum. 
  • We like to people watch (we're watching you now).



Through the tears and giggles, I'm sure I've learned more. With our uncooked baby still inside (probably the most graphic way I could say "i'm not pregnant"), I'd say we're well on our way to being the coolest couple/parents in the world. 

Thank you. 

Jul 24, 2016

obituary

Here's the closest attempt of understanding her soul, the only thing she never fully offered the world.

carly:
An independent type, conformed by a world who loved cat videos more than news headlines. She was average--height, weight, and cartwheel performance. A girl with too many thoughts in her head and a mouth too big to make sense of it all. She lived through emotions. Her head was indecisive, but her heart as firm as a butt transplant.

Her room wasn't filled with trophies or hobbies, and she never cared too much for extracurriculars. She wasn't a math person, an outdoors person, or a book person, but simply just a person, a label that no one ever defined--or really understood. In a solar system module, she was the styrofoam sun, shining as much light as she could on everything that made the worlds go round. 

What she did know for sure was standing in front of her at 6'2". He attempted to understand her long metaphorical rants and why her right armpit sweats more than her left. An attempt applauded by all by-standers, even herself. Of course, she gave him most of her soul...everything except the parts she didn't understand herself. 


To the girl who gave the world to her people, and to her people who gave the moon to her. 

xx