Of modern girls and old-fashioned men.

Frankly Tyler, you are awesome. Why? Because not many other people are willing to go out for coffee with me at 1 am and talk to me about about life, love, wuv, infatuation, the difference between the three, music, law, robots, and several combinations thereof. (The same goes for Zak.)

A sort of mournful cosmic last resort.

I've been feeling a bit out of step with everything, unfortunately. Spring Break really seems to have thrown off whatever equilibrium I'd achieved during the first half of the semester. They say "toe-may-toe," I say "toe-mah-toe," etc. I love them all, of course, to varying extents. Just not feelin' it, as it were, and any annoyance is really my own damned fault because I insist on socializing against my better judgment anyway and subjecting other people to my ridiculous mood swings and tendency to drastically over-analyze everything (pardonez-moi) instead of just sitting in my room and getting shit done like I really probably should be doing.

I've been trying my damnedest to strike a balance between online journaling and kickin' it old skool with ye olde pen-and-paper; the gods of technology have decided to spontaneously give me the blue screen (the greatest of digital "fuck-you"s). It's really quite generous of them, as it usually happens at the peaks of my angst and spares me a lot of potential embarrassment, assuming anyone reads this in the first place (highly unlikely). The internet is no place for the earnest.

"Goddammit Caroline, wear your pretensions on your sleeve." - the venerable Tyler Thomas

I'm currently taking a British Literature course that's moving far slower and covering way less material than the one I took in high school. However, my opinion on a lot of the stuff we're reading has changed with "age" and [minimal, admittedly] perspective (cue grandma mode; "back in MAH DAY..."; etc.) and it continually amazes me how much I'm LEARNING ABOUT MYSELF (ugh oh god how cheesy) by seeing how my opinions on some of them have changed. For instance, I'm actually enjoying Paradise Lost this time around. On the other hand, I don't get teary-eyed whenever I read the last stanza of "Dover Beach" anymore (yeah, that one reduced me to sobs at one point in my life, shutupshutupshutup). I appreciate it, but I don't think I'd be willing to jump Matthew Arnold's bones (or anyone else's, for that matter) if he recited his schmaltzily romantic verse for me anymore. Did I become cynical in my old age? Is it common sense? Am I secretly a replicant? The world may never know.

Truth be told, ironically, I've had a difficult time coming to terms with earnesty (my own and other peoples'). I've become increasingly aware that most of my friendships are built on an unspoken foundation of shared irreverence for pretty much everything. It's convenient in the short-term, but seems to complicate a lot of things that "matter." I suspect my difficulty with this results in many of my personal problems, ranging from rendering me terminally un-date-able (well, that's a problem, coupled with not wanting to be part of any club that would have me as a member on my side and the gradual realization that I'm not nearly as cool as I initially appear to be on theirs; yes, I HAVE been broken up with due to excessive self-deprecation before although I rarely mean any of it because I'm the biggest goddamn egotist I know) to rekindling my love for new wave music (possibly an unconsciously retaliatory action; artifice is most welcome in the wake of a bunch of acoustic guitar-wielding quasi-Bohemian douche bags) to my getting totally into the trailer for the Prince Caspian movie (please don't suck as much as Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe...) instead of putting a conclusive end (wow that was redundant) to this entry. Good night.

F-word, f-word, pardon my French.

Note to self: you should probably try developing a sense of reverence sometime in the near future.

There are some mornings when the sky looks like a road.

I was born in Houston. I've lived in the same house for eighteen out of nineteen years of my life. I've remained something of a Houston apologist long after many of my friends have virtually disowned the place. However, I've grown increasingly disillusioned with it during my last few visits for various reasons, many of which are personal and admittedly far beyond its control (and others which fuck with my allergies and make me cough like I'm a-dyin'). It's beginning to feel like that friend who never quite delivers, and so the drift ensues. Yeah, this is definitely partially hormonal-induced, and then there's also the distinct realization that there's just not much here for me anymore. Ah, well. Keep on keepin' on, I suppose.

I talked to my friend Norm today, which was beyond pleasant, as I've been running around like crazy this semester and haven't felt like I've carried on a half-decent AIM conversation with him in ages. As he is basically male FUTURE CAROLINE (almost creepy but totally endearing), and also because he gave me the best piece of life advice I've ever heard a couple of years ago, I'm obligated to love him forever. I'm a tad creeped out that I feel closer to an online friend than I do to most people I tangibly interact with every day, and it kind of makes me wonder how many other BIZARRO CAROLINES there are out there, lurking in the murky corners of the internet.

"If you have not as yet replied to my letter, please go on refraining. It is possible that I was mistaken and I do not willfully invite any disillusions at this point in my life. I am willing to stay in the dark."

And oh god it's pi am on easter morning and in spite of my exponentially increasing dislike of Houston, I still don't particularly want to go back to Denton. Hmm.

Inventory pt 1.

I'm a compulsive list-maker. It's an uncontrollable urge that seems to increase in conjunction with lack of sleep. Here are current high/low points.

Yay:

• My sister, because not many other people are thoughtful enough to deck my room out with creepy-ass pictures of Hilary Clinton upon my return.
• Urban Texas! Particularly Dallas, which I've really come around to during the past few days. It's dramatic and metropolitan and gorgeous--a real "superhero" kind of city. I would love to live out of state and eventually abroad for a while, but I definitely would not mind continuing to call Texas home (I never thought I'd say it).
• Non-painful crushes! No explanation needed!
• A cat to sleep on my head at night.
• Not having to toss $2+ in chunk change every time I want to do laundry.
  

Eek:

• Not having money to buy things with.
• "I am a Scientist" is the most deceptively amazing song ever; none of Guided By Voices other songs were really ever able to live up to its promise (at least as far as I'm concerned), sorry to say.
  
• My Compaq because it sounds like it's digesting small woodland creatures.
• Discussing anything involving money with mom and dad.
• I can't seem to shake this goshdarned cough.
• Coming across some short stories I wrote for junior year creative writing--ick.
  

Here's to destroying any hopes of substance!

'Unearthly' is the word.

I'm giving this Blogger thing a shot (or technically another shot; it was the first blogging service I ever used back in good ol' 7th grade), since I got tired of all of the ads on Livejournal. Maybe a post of substance in the morning, but for now, Heinlein and sleep.