Note to self: Avoid opening umbrellas indoors.

I could maybe possibly be cursed. Clearly, I've done something to upset *fate?* and now I'm paying the price. I mean... I own two black cats. So I guess I'm playing with fire here.

I made the mistake of watching the movie " Good Luck Chuck" (If you hate yourself/too curious to not click... here's a link to the trailer: Massive waste of life ). I was desperate for a chick flick. I wasted 96 valuable minutes of my life watching this movie but it did kind of win me over in a narcissistic way. The girl in the movie is a walking disaster. She sorta reminded me of myself. She's klutzy, aloof, and overall cursed with bad luck. No worries. Things work out when she finds a guy who is magically lucky and they balance each other out (he sleeps with women and they find they're true love!) *Most ridiculous plot in the world..*

Because I'm half awake and I saw my parallel in a painfully bad block buster, I will think of my situation like this: I have two options: I have option A) Find a real life Good Luck Chuck OR option B) find a good luck charm to carry around. Very logical I know. It's a talent. I feel like option B is more viable.

Generally, I wouldn't go so far as to call myself cursed. I have the occasional mishap, but who doesn't? Recently however, I guess fate felt the need to prove a point: You can't snuggle black cats and open umbrellas indoors and see no consequences. Touche fate. Touche.

Today I've managed to flood my house and ruin my kitchen ceiling, all by tapping a pipe under the sink with a container of soap. I broke a 6 month old GPS by looking at it. OH and I hit a copious number of frogs trying to avoid road construction. And.... my hamster was almost eaten by my cat. And... I might've lost a 300 dollar check. Last week? I destroyed my car driving to volunteer at an animal clinic. I lost all of my pants after packing up my house to go on the market. Last month? I flashed my ass to our realtor (husband of our minister) when I fell trying to paint our porch. Just a series of unfortunate events....

It's funny how you don't truly embrace superstition until hot brown liquid instantaneously spews like mini gorges throughout your house. I'm currently packing for school in the dark, while dodging bowls of brown water (still dripping from the ceiling). Tomorrow, I'm stopping at a gas station before I head off for Ithaca. I'm buying a rabbit's foot and a four leaf clover key chain. My Buddha will be on my dashboard at all times and I'm making it my goal to find a heads up penny in the street to pick up. Just to be safe....

Then again...

Then again... Life can just throw you a steaming pile of shit.

In times like these, I feel it's best to devote a reasonable amount of time to wallow in self pity. Anywhere from angst music to retail therapy to endless runs. It's all fair game.

The key to this approach is this: Once you've hit that point where one more day of self pity starts to make you border line pathetic... You stop. Balls up. And move on. :)

Moral of the story: Never compromise your own self respect and settle. You deserve to be treated just as well as anyone else.

Small rant brought to you in part by a very tired blogger...

When I grow up, I want to be a.....

When Keith Richards was a kid, untouched by the rock star lifestyle, he desperately wanted to be a librarian. Prince William dreamed of becoming a policeman. On a Monday morning, eight year old Barack Obama made public his dream of becoming a U.S. president.

So what happens to our childhood dreams?

My senior year of high school, I declared to those most important to me (and of course anyone else who might listen), my intended major for college. I spoke with confidence and passion. Why wouldn't I choose that major? It's my dream!

This only occurred... 8 times before I gave in and registered as an exploratory student at Ithaca College. How in the world was I supposed to know what I wanted out of life? I was only 18 years old. I was clearly too young to know exactly what job I wanted to pursue.

Of course, Obama was only eight years old when he knew what he wanted out of life.

How is it, that someone in the 3rd grade can confidently and without hesitation bare their soul and without shame share their greatest dreams with not only those around them, but with themselves. However, a 20 something, half way through their undergraduate education, can more readily confess their utter confusion and fear of the future than simply know what they want in life and go after it with everything they've got.

Maybe it's the years of experiencing disappointment. Realizing that some dreams, as wonderful as they may be, just aren't realistic. Maybe it's the general and all too familiar fear of being let down or knowing that life will always be unplanned and full of unexpected moments, that prevents us from starting our lives in the first place.

As a kid, we don't know fear yet. We haven't experienced life enough to see the bad. We live in a protected sphere encompassed by our closest family and imaginary friends. Clearly (brace yourselves for sarcasm), a childhood dream is silly and unrealistic because our dreams are imagined purely through the naivety of our hearts. Little logic is involved.

Honestly though, I kind of think Obama had the right idea. In my opinion, our childhood hopes and dreams may be the most reliable and honest truths of what we REALLY want out of life. It's easy as an adult to shut down a childhood dream. We have countless excuses to deny ourselves of what we really want. It costs too much. It's too risky. Fear of judgement. Fear of our own capabilities.

It seems to me, that we do more damage to ourselves with every added year of "wisdom". Not to say that we don't gain valuable insight through personal experience as the years pass. But I believe people have a tendency to get caught up in those experiences and forget the eight year old kid inside. Maybe it's time to clear our heads. Forget the friend that spoke behind your back, or the professor who told you that you just weren't good enough and it was time to think about life plan B,C and D. There will always be obstacles and bad luck in life. Sure, we can take the safe route and get a comfy desk job. But 30 years down the road, when you spend the majority of your time and energy at your job, can you say you're happy? That you have no regrets about the path you chose?

I've always been a strong believer that happiness in life doesn't come from the size of your bank account, the number of facebook friends you have, or the image others have of you. At the end of the day, the one constant in your life will be yourself. If you give up on your true passions and goals in life, who's life will you be living? Not yours.

Eight year old Barack decided one day that his dream was to become president. He struggled immensely throughout his life, but he stayed true to his passion and never gave up. Most people in Barack's position would have gladly taken the easy way out, happy to settle for a more dependable future plan. Had he ignored the kid inside, our country might still run under the foresight of yet another spoiled, simpleminded politician.

It's incredibly risky to trust your gut instincts and go for what may seem to be an impossible future. But if you're too afraid to take a leap of faith in life, what's the point of living?

Everyone is entitled to their opinion and should make the decision that works best for them. I respect that entirely and would never criticize someone for choosing a paved, high traffic path. It comes with a certain level of predictability that can be extremely comforting in a very unpredictable economy. It's a popular route that's worked out for countless people. It promises a magnitude of security and relative happiness.

Unfortunately for my dad, a strong advocate for such a lifestyle, I will put every ounce of will and energy into avoiding that path at all costs.

I choose the path less traveled. I choose to be the eight year old.

Tis the season to eat your body weight and reminisce

It seems to me that the popular thing to do at this time of year is to eat everything you shouldn't and then resolve to lose the weight you gained and then some, over the course of 365 days. Along with this New Year resolution comes the countless others we think up and promise ourselves we will fight to uphold, determined that this year will be different.

Whether my truth is universal to everyone else out there or not, I can't say. However, I can say with confidence that I'm strongly considering skipping the painful process of creating new years resolutions this time around. Here's how this whole thing plays out for me without fail each year:

It begins with a whirl of nostalgia. I begin to reminisce over the past year, starting things off with upbeat cheerful memories. As I digress, the reminiscing gradually morphs into a careful dissection of any regrettable choice I made in the past 365 or so days. Remember that time I proudly dressed myself in what I initially thought was red carpet worthy, only to later realize I looked like a dirty hobo? How about that time I lost all inhibitions and dared myself to eat as much useless food in the span of 24 hours as humanly possible, only to wake up with food baby triplets? Although these memories prove to be the type you laugh about many weeks later, they pose the vital question: What the hell was I thinking?

After a delightful walk down "remember that time..." lane, I usually create a well thought out list of New Years resolutions that I full heartily believe I will stay loyal to. Each comes with its justifications, to which I owe much gratitude for keeping me motivated and allow me to come out victorious by the following new year.

*Insert massive reality check here*

Almost like clockwork, my devote pilgrimage towards a better me loses steam by week 3 of the new year. Life picks up, and my detailed list on how to better myself fades into the past like a dream. It may have been inspirational and fun at the time, but reality comes into play and it transforms into a foggy mind blurb, that despite your best efforts, you just can't grasp in its entirety.

Although the failure to prove this process successful isn't exactly a buzz kill in my day to day life, it does serve as a mini reminder that at the ripe age of 19, I am already struggling to lose my "gut" and be hip like the kids. Scary. Thus, skipping the process altogether is tempting in my mind.

I now have 24 hours to decide which plan I will pursue. Will I stay consistent and go into the new year with some form of motivation to change the flaws I may embody? Or will I go into it with a little less of a bang, and give myself a bit of a personal reconstructive break. Maybe It's time to embrace some of the kinks in my personal life and move on already. Life's too short. Hand me a brownie.

The Week Before Finals Week.

So far, it's been fun!

I have made the executive decision to never sleep... but that's cool because my roomie chose the same suicide mission.

In other news:

I love plaid and fuzzy eskimo hats. That is all.

Advice for everyone,

Be yourself

Do what you love

Never be afraid

Love, Caity

Bad Hair

So I thought I'd let you guys see the most fantastic bad hair day I have ever had. No joke. I woke up like this. Enjoy :)