Carly Catastrophe

So, I’ll start with the back story. I went to Pittsburgh this past weekend to visit my best friend. Considering it was last minute and I am constantly broke, I took  a greyhound bus. It wasn’t too bad, my mom drove us everywhere when I was younger so I pretty much love ground travel. But anyway, from Pittsburgh t0 Columbus I was seated behind two soldiers who were talking loudly enough that I could gather they were fairly conservative. The conversation consisted of topics such as how Rush Limbaugh is brilliant, how good ole Dubya was a great president for outlawing partial birth abortion, and how one had recently learned of an abortion his mother had in college and had responded by punching her in the face. With that, I give you my open letter to the idiots I was sitting behind on the bus.


Dear Idiots on the Greyhound,


Let me start by saying that Rush Limbaugh is a big fat idiot. I don’t think I need elaborate but if you’re interested, there’s actually a book titled Rush Limbaugh is a Big Fat Idiot. I’m sure you can find it in your local book store.

Now on to Good Ole Georgie. First off, I can’t imagine outlawing partial birth abortion to be enough to make up for the war, the economy, the patriot act, and the rest of the world’s over all negative view of the US.  That being said, let me start by saying that a president can’t just outlaw something. It has to go to the house of reps and the senate before it becomes a law. And on top of that, the punishment for a doctor caught performing a partial birth abortion is a fine or a maximum of 2 years in prison. A fine and or 2 years is hardly a deterrent, a person goes to jail longer for having “relations” with a house pet.

While we’re on the topic of abortion, I’d like to say how confusing it is to me that one can be both pro life and pro war. War is very anti life. Perhaps even pro death if you will. Explain if you would why it is ok to kill people over seas but not unborn children in the states. Is it that the people you kill in Iraq are already born? Or is it that they aren’t American? Either way, it seems sick and odd to me that the value of life is greater if one is either a. unborn or b. an American.

Also, you both went on at great lengths about one night stands you’d had. About coming back from Iraq and going to the bar and as you so eloquently put it, “fucking whoever wanted to fuck you”. It would seem to me that a woman who gets pregnant during a one night stand would be more likely to have an abortion considering she doesn’t have any clue  where to find the father of her baby. And so, it seems unjust to me that you expect a woman to have drunken meaningless sex with you and then take care of the baby you may leave them with.

I’ll end by addressing the comment one of you made about punching your mother in the face when you learned of the abortion she’d had before you were born. I understand your anger. I’m sure your mother understands your anger. But have you even for a moment thought of the pain the abortion caused and is still causing her? Abortion is a horrible thing. And the women who go through it often suffer for the rest of their lives as a result. She’s your mother and while you have every right to be angry, she has every right to be respected. You are even more proof to me how much the world could use just a bit more compassion.

In the recent years, birth control has become a very public matter. You simply can’t turn on your tv anymore without seeing ads for mirena, nuvo ring, that pill yas that gives you 4 periods a year, and countless others. And they’re all marketed as something that liberates us women.

I for one, do not feel liberated. I have taken hormonal birth control before and I hated it. It made me sick and moody and it’s a pain to remember to take your pill at exactly this time every day. But the lack of liberation goes deeper. The pill puts all of the responsibility for pregnancy prevention on women. Men no longer need to put any forethought at all into having sex. And many act as though women who don’t take the pill are  inconveniencing them by making them wear condoms. I’d rather have slightly less pleasure than risk screwing up my reproductive system.

{September 30, 2008}   Update

So, after learning that at least one person I know was googling me, I made my blog private. I’ve since changed my mind. What? I’m a woman, I can change it whenever I want dammit. I thought about deleting a few posts too but I have decided against it. This is my creative outlet and I would like to keep it as such. Although I do wish that some people would leave it alone and not google me. If you really want to know what’s going on in my life, you know how to get in contact with me and I would be more than willing to talk with you about it. I know I can’t stop you from googling me and I wouldn’t try to but, I am going to ask.

Regina, please do not google me. You know my home number, my mother can give you my cell number from there, and if you send me a myspace message I’ll give you the screen name I use now. But please, don’t google me. It kinda creeps me out.


Ps, why is it that when you google me, you get my blog and when I google me, I get info about an old actress who did B Horror movies?

I have this problem where everytime there is some semblance of happiness in my life, that little chemical imbalance called depression kicks in. And the happier I am, the greater the depression. I sit and dwell on the disastrous what ifs until it drives me mad. I should be happy. I really should. At 20 I’ve found the person who no matter what will go down in my history as the love of my life. And his presence in my life is a reminder of my value and not the proof of it. But with all of that, comes the fear of losing it. And with that fear comes depression. And with depression comes that longing for self destruction. I’ve been doing well though. I mean, I’m in my head in a bad way but I’m not resorting to drugs or anything. I’m sure I’ll get out of it soon, I usually do, but this part bites.

{September 10, 2008}  

I’ll attempt to turn this string of consciousness into a cognitive narrative of sorts. I can’t make any promises, the way I think is so bizarre. All at once I’m thinking of so many different things. But there is one constant theme in all of this. Him. The joy he causes me. The fear of losing him, the sweet reward after two plus years of waiting. I’m leaving in a month. Less than a month really. I’ll be off finding myself or whatever it is you’re supposed to do when you leave the nest. He’ll be here. With them. People he trusts and respects. People I trust and respect too contrary to popular belief. People who don’t think I’m a good person. People who are probably right about me. I’m terrified that when they find out they’ll tell him it’s a bad idea. I’m more terrified by the idea that he may believe them. I know I’m not perfect, that I still have a lot of growing up to do. But I’m trying and he makes me want to be better. His love is the first good thing to come my way in years. That light at the end of a long dark tunnel. My only hope of being more than that silly girl who had an abortion. And I’m so sick of people judging me for that. I know I made a mistake. I was 18 years old and I didn’t know what else to do. I was more scared than I’ve ever been in my life. And if I could take it back, I would, in a heart beat. I’d give anything to make it right. I know I probably don’t deserve a second chance but I need it.  It’s hard to succeed when everyone’s expecting you to fail.

{August 18, 2008}   Mmmbop!

Ok, so while I was in Indiana, Maddie and I rekindled our love affair with Hanson in all their 90’s bubble gum pop glory. We also made plans to see the new Hanson in Chicago at House of Blues in November. Yes, in case you didn’t know, those crazy Hanson brothers are still at it only now they’re an indie/adult alternative type band. They’re actually pretty good too. Crazy… I know. And then I got to thinking about how much it must suck to want to be a serious musician and have Mmmbop as your past. And to know that no matter how good you are now. How intelligent your lyrics are, how well you play your instruments, everyone will always still think of you as those 3 boys who looked and sang like girls.

The Hanson comeback is not the same as the New Kids on the Block(Herein “NKOB”)  comeback. Hanson is making a serious comeback and they are working hard to be serious musicians in a world where people aren’t inclined to take them seriously. The members of NKOB are well into their 30s if not 40s and still producing the same bubblegum pop crap as a fight not to be forgotten in pop culture history. Because, bubblegum pop crap is about all they can do.

Early Hanson Lyrics:

Ba duba bop
Ba du bop
Ba duba dop
Ba du bop
Ba duba dop
Ba du

And they’re gone
In an mmmbop they’re gone

New Hanson Lyrics:

When every eye is on the fortune it can only breed contempt
They say blood is thicker than oceans
Still we box out brothers in

You can see the difference in thos two choruses. Now let’s look at some NKOB choruses


Didn’t I blow your mind this time
Didn’t I (Oh, baby)
Didn’t I blow your mind this time (Baby)
Didn’t I (Listen)


I think about you in the summertime,
(Oh oh)
And all the good times we had, baby,
Been a few years and I can’t deny,
(Oh oh)
The thought of you still makes me crazy,
I think about you in the summertime,
(Oh oh)
I’m sittin’ here in the sun with you on my mind.
You’re my, my summertime


And there we see little to no difference.

I guess my point is this: Both cases are somewhat tragic. But in one case we have has beens trying to be serious musicians (and doing a pretty good job in my opinion) in a world that just isn’t going to take them seriously. And in the other case we have washed up has beens continuing to be washed up has beens. This… makes me sad.

{August 11, 2008}   Shop Vac part two

So I’ve just gotten back from vacation and the first thing I have to do is vacuum up the mess our electrician has left. This time however, it’s plaster or sheet rock or something. And as I’m shop vac-ing and swearing at the shop vac, I notice that it struggles to pick up the pieces and actually can’t pick up quite a few of them. And it is at this time that I realize that the shop vac and I are a lot alike. Neither one of us wants to clean up plaster, neither of is made to, and it’s not my job or the shop vac’s. While I doubt the shop vac and I will ever be friends, I do have a new found sense of respect and compassion for it.

So, it’s the begining of the 3rd week in the new office, and I don’t see it lasting much longer. Working with my mom just isn’t working. Before we even opened she could not stress enough the importance of me being her employee and not her daughter at work. However, she is the one who is in constant breach of this aggreement. Besides calling me things like “love” and “Care” (my family’s nickname for Caroline) all the time, when she’s in a bad mood, I’m the one who catches the brunt of it. And when she gets upset with me, it is in the manor of a mother to a child and not an employer to an employee. I think when I get back from vacation I’m going to look for a new job because I can’t deal with my mother causing me to break into tears at work every week.

{July 21, 2008}   Legalize it?

An almost constant topic within my group of friends is the legalization of marijuana. For a long time, I’ve been pro legalization but the more I think about it, the more I’m against it. Personally, I don’t really want the government regulating and taxing my fun. And honestly, does anyone realize how fucked the ecomony would be? If all I have is $10 and a full pack of cigarettes(because cigarettes ALWAYS come first) I’m going to buy weed with that $10 before I even think of anything else. Most of the potheads I know are like this. I give my $10 to Mary Jane Dealer who then circulates that money back into the economy by buying those obnoxious spinning rims or something. Good drug dealers ALWAYS have money, and they can spend it because their cover job flipping burgers pays most of the bills. If marijuana were to be legalized, so many people would be out of jobs and our already falling economy would fall even harder. Yeah, I would love to be able to walk into a Wawa and buy a pack of joints, but at what cost? My habit makes it possible for my dealer to take his son to Disney World and I’m not going to take Mickey Mouse away from a little boy for my own convenience.

{July 18, 2008}   Curse you shop vac

I’d like to touch briefly on a very important topic….. How much I HATE shop vacs. At my new job, my proper job title is receptionist but it’s very easily translated into office bitch. Other than normal things like answering the phone, my duties include tasks such as getting drinks for my mom and until we have a cleaning crew, doing the cleaning. And this wouldn’t be that bad if we had a real vacuum. As it stands though, we have a shop vac. One of those huge like industrial sized vacuums that requires you to be in doggy style to use and takes like an hour to do a 10 minute job. It’s the same kind of vacuum that we have at home which has caused me to not give two shits if everything in the house is covered in dog hair as long as I don’t have to vacuum with that thing.

Also, while I was bringing that damned shop vac back upstairs this morning, I hit the stair rail with my side and now I have a huge fucking bruise. Perhaps, when that damn thing least expects it, I’ll hack it to bits or push it down the stairs or something.

That’s right Shop Vac, your days are numbered. You better sleep with one eye open.

et cetera