Taking comfort in loneliness

August 4, 2012 by cassie

While the past two weekends were busy with disaster control and music at Firefly, then relaxation and romance in Ocean City, I’ve followed it up with a whole lot of alone time this week. John’s out on the other side of the country in California visiting his mom and sister for a week (and I am so totally envious), and my family has been away at the beach and the boat. That leaves me and the doggies, who have been following me around like, well, dogs with expressions that say, You are supposed to be entertaining us. Sorry, pups, but I just can’t be as interesting or chaotic as five people usually are.

Though the thought of having the house to myself all week was exciting, I was, admittedly, feeling somewhat abandoned. I found myself wishing I could just up and go somewhere, reminiscing about the days of summer vacation. It’s been a couple of years since I had anything resembling one, and I gotta say, I miss it dearly. I remember actually getting bored during summer breaks. My sisters do that now. I want to tell them (and my past self) to relish that boredom! Embrace it! Go learn how to make… stuff. Anything. These years will fly by.

But since I don’t have a summer break, here I am. I decided I’d make good use of my days of solitude, and I found inspiration from Shannon from Awash With Wonder, who wrote a really thoughtful and insightful post about loneliness and how it isn’t necessarily a bad thing. In fact, she says, it’s something that should be embraced, and I agree:

The simple solution to no longer being overwhelmed by loneliness is that you have to allow yourself to feel. 

It’s scary though, isn’t it? Who knows what we may find or who we’ll become if we stop for even a moment. We have to keep moving. We have to keep pushing forward to that just-out-of-reach point in the future where we will be whole and our doubts will be silenced. We want to silence our doubts, but we won’t listen to them first. We want our feelings to go away, but we don’t want to feel them first. We believe that if we suffocate parts of ourselves, those parts will just fall off, and somehow we will still be whole without them. Not going to happen.

Click here to read the rest of the post.

And she’s right. It’s interesting when you pay attention to the thoughts and feelings you have when your only company is a couple of panting dogs and you. While I can’t say I’ve used every moment to my advantage (I really need to stop aimlessly passing time on the computer), I did do a lot of things this week that I don’t do often enough.

- I cooked for one: myself. I didn’t eat frozen dinners or plain noodles just because it was only me. (I’ve been guilty of that in the past.) Instead, I made bowtie pasta in vodka sauce with crumbled bacon and peas one night, and tofu & vegetable chili the next. The latter was my favorite, and I have tons of leftovers. I’ll save some for my family and see if they even realize it’s not beef.

- I had dinner at my dad’s house. He surprised me with an old favorite: Roy Rogers roast beef sandwiches. Yum.

- I picked up my guitar for the first time in I don’t know how long. I even recorded myself playing and singing on GarageBand, just for fun. (I also laughed at myself, by myself, during the process.) The sensation of sore guitar fingers is one I’d forgotten about.

- I washed my shower curtain and changed the liner. That shit’s gross.

- I picked up a 5k registration form at the gym and decided I’d go for it in October. I can run a 5k… but now I want to run it fast. So I pushed myself to 6.7 mph on the ole treadmill and felt it the next day.

- I thought long and hard about my writing and how I’ve neglected it. It’s been too long since I’ve written anything for publication somewhere other than this blog. You can’t be a writer if you don’t write, and I intend to work on that. I’m also trying to flesh out my ideas for a potential lengthy, nonfiction pursuit. For now, that’s top secret.

- I did less productive things like drink boxed wine in front of Sarah Silverman’s Jesus is Magic (and envisioned her blurbing my eventual book and us becoming best friends) and the movie 13 Going on 30. I got a little choked up and didn’t admonish myself for getting teary-eyed during a silly movie.

- I imagined living on my own and liking it. It’s only been a few days of solitude, but I’m not uncomfortable with it just being me and my thoughts. In fact, I think that every now and then, it’s absolutely necessary.

Why don't you stick around?

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Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: alone but not lonely, boredom, film photography

Firefly wins

July 27, 2012 by Cassie

Last week, I blogged about how I was looking forward to a long weekend of music and camping with John at Firefly Music Festival. I’m only just now getting around to blogging about it because, quite honestly, last weekend required some post-event recovery, and not in the I-got-so-WASTED! kinda way. Understandably, you might be wondering what the above “photo” of nothingness means. If it’s not a symbol representing a rage-induced blackout, what is the significance? Well, it’s my way of saying those Firefly photos I promised last week no existen. But not for a lack of trying.

To backtrack a little bit, this was only one of several things that did not work out quite according to plan. As John and I made the short drive to Delaware, the overcast sky threatened to erupt at any moment, and we were definitely ill-prepared for a downpour. And in all my preparedness, we somehow forgot pillows, so we stopped at a K-Mart and bought a couple for five dollars apiece. We might not have had a tarp, but by God we would at least have head comfort.

What I hadn’t realized right up until we got to K-Mart was that the festival was approximately one mile away from the K-Mart. And McDonald’s, and ExxonMobil, and everything else on the strip. It made sense that we’d be in civilization considering we were situated next to Dover Downs International Speeday (Amurrica!), but the understanding that we’d be camping between all this and a highway IN the rain was a bit sobering. By the time we had snaked through to our camping site without ever being asked to show our camping information (we could’ve gotten away with doing this without paying $145?), John and I were rather worried our 12-pack of beer was not going to cut it.

But we tried to make the best of the situation and got a decent spot at the end of a long row of cars. We set up the tent which has come to feel like our little home, and then John went off to find our camping wristbands which we had apparently missed. Turns out we never even needed to show them to get into the campground, but John waited quite awhile for them while I set up everything else. He texted me: I’d like to think this is worth it. I responded: You might not think so when you get back. Because our air mattress wouldn’t inflate.

Deflated (ha), we plugged in the air compressor to see if we could get it to charge by the time we got back that night. We set out to meet up with our friends for the first night of music which we began with the Wallflowers, whom I love. Following them were OK Go, Walk the Moon, and Bassnectar. By then, we had picked up a much-needed boost of energy, and the anticipation for Jack White was palpable. Unfortunately, the entire opening song was spent with White passionately and wildly playing to an audience that couldn’t hear anything but a tambourine. While the sound guys figured out the problem, we stared blankly at Jack White flailing onstage. I imagined his inner dialogue: Why does my audience look confused? Nobody understands me. I am Jack White. But when the sound finally came roaring through the speakers, the crowd erupted into giddyness, and I for one was dancing like a crazy person.

Saturday, the festival was in full swing with one long day of music. We woke up to find our air mattress (which we did manage to inflate Friday night), back in its original state of flathood, and it was still drizzling lightly. I also spent a good deal of time searching the car for my phone, which was nowhere to be found. It didn’t make sense—I knew I’d had it the night before. In all honesty, I was more upset that I’d lost my chapstick, and I wondered if I subconsciously lost it just because it would mean I HAD to get a new phone. (John wondered if he subconsciously lost it for me just because he was sick of my three-year-running James Brown ringtone.)

We saw more great music that day, and I was determined to get some great shots of the festival with my manual. Speaking of James Brown, one guy named Charles Bradley (along with his Extraordinaires) put on a show that was just like him. He was anywhere between 60 and 70 and lookin’ good for his age. He was doing splits, screaming notes that would leave me voiceless, and kissing young girls at the end of the show as tears streamed down his face. What a badass.

Fitz & the Tantrums was another highlight. They took this photo from the stage:

We had another long night that ended with an energetic set from the Killers. By that point, my feet were blistered and achey all over. I didn’t really start to feel it, though, until Sunday morning. I was quite literally limping and couldn’t believe we had yet another full day to go. I took out my camera to rewind the film and noticed it had let me take an unusual number of pictures. Not a good sign. I opened up the back, and—moment of despair and humiliation—there had never been any film in it in the first place.

And the car battery died.

But I found my phone! In the cooler… which was full of nothing but water.

If I felt deflated before, I clearly should’ve saved some air for reserve. I had no intention of recreating Saturday’s memories (“Where were we standing yesterday when we took that group photo? OKAY, STAND RIGHT THERE AND LET’S DO THIS AGAIN.”) so I just limped along and tried to soak up one last full day of music. The Head and the Heart was awesome, and so were Cold War Kids and the Flaming Lips. The last band of the weekend, the Black Keys, were so face-meltingly rockin’ that I occasionally forgot that my feet were swollen beyond an abnormal amount.

But if it were a fight between me and Firefly, Firefly definitely won. I now know what it means to need a vacation from your vacation, and I am doing just that now. (Did you sense I was rushing?) It’s off to the beach. Like, right now. I plan on lying flat on my back for three days straight. And I promise to take pictures.

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Habits don’t start themselves

July 9, 2012 by cassie

I’ve been less than satisfied with my creative output lately, and it’s no one’s fault but my own that I’m lacking (and slacking) in this department. With a self-imposed busy schedule that allows for very little downtime during the week and my desire to do little more than relax and cuddle on the weekends, I seem to have put my creativity on the back burner, and it’s not having a good effect on my overall mood. (Also, being sick this week hasn’t helped. Sickness makes me want to revert back to babydom and assume the fetal position while complaining about it.) To be honest, I’m feeling a little useless and maddeningly helpless. The things I want to get out of life seem out of reach with no clear direction as to how to get there. Just writing about it makes me want to shut the laptop and have a glass of wine instead… like a real writer! I’m sure my upbeat attitude doesn’t exactly make you want to keep reading, either.

BUT. I read a book over the past couple of weeks called The Creative Habit, by world-famous choreographer Twyla Tharp, which has been good for a little perspective shifting– something I absolutely need on occasion to get out of whatever funk I might be in. Though Tharp is a choreographer (and I struggle with the complex moves of  “The Electric Slide”), the book is not about dance, and it’s as useful to any creative type as it is for someone who strikes deals for a living. Basically, Tharp aims to get you out of a tendency to make excuses for why you’re not actively pursuing what makes you tick (I’m too busy, I don’t know where to start, or I can do it tomorrow), and gets you INTO the habit of making that thing part of your regular routine– as you would exercise, sleeping, and eating.

Even if you don’t struggle with self-discipline, Creative Habit is a good refresher course on getting out of a rut, dealing with well-intentioned but bad ideas, and drawing inspiration from the successful, creative people Tharp cites in the book. If you do have a hard time getting motivated and staying motivated– like I do– it’s a kick in the butt and a much-needed reminder that the only thing standing in your way is you.

And honestly, we can all benefit from hearing that once in awhile. It’s in the back of my mind when I think, “I should really do this, but X is making that hard.” Actually, my refusal to occasionally move X to the side is what’s really getting in my way, and I’ve finally learned that lesson when it comes to exercise. There are days when I’m so busy that I don’t get home until 6:30 and I still have stuff to do at home, but often going for a quick run is really the one thing I need to refocus, reenergize, and feel like I didn’t totally neglect myself in the course of a whirlwind day. I never regret inserting that quick “me” time in the middle of other important tasks, because that is just as important. Why shouldn’t the same principle apply to my need to write?

I should learn from example how it’s done. My mom– busy as she is– writes almost daily. It’s more of an obligation than a habit (and it’s a happy obligation), but she takes it seriously and doesn’t let it fall by the wayside. To her, there is no other option. She’s told me many times, “No one cares if you write. Only you do.” That’s why she writes. And more often than not, she’s in a groove.

John gets groovy, too. When he’s not writing, he’s practicing his guitar. If a day goes by when he doesn’t spend at least half an hour warming up his fingers and exploring both new and familiar scales, he feels as if he’s missed the opportunity to improve. I hear him playing constantly, and it pays off at his live shows. (His solos, ohmahgah!) I’m pretty certain that he’s a better guitarist than he was even just three years ago, and he’s been playing for awhile.

The thought of filling a blank page doesn’t scare my mom like it occasionally does me. John doesn’t have to force himself to get up and practice like I sometimes need to. But it’s true with writing as it is with anything– the more regularly you do it, the more confident you are doing it. But first you have to start, and you can’t let the fear of failure be the reason you never pick up the pen because, well, that’s pointless. Considering failure as a possibility isn’t an option, or else you might as well give up before you even start.

I know all this, and I can say this with conviction, but it’s acting it out that matters. I have the tendency of giving myself (and therefore, by association, you) pep talks like this on this blog and immediately falling through on them. That last post? Where I talk about stuff? And how I only need one bathing suit? Yeah, well I went ahead and bought a second bathing suit anyway. Which is fine (cute things!), but then I feel the need to admit that so I’m not a fake. The same applies here. I can’t just keep talking about something without actually doing it. I’ve realized this is the least complicated my life will ever be. That makes me want to go back to the fetal position, but it’s reality. If I don’t make writing a priority now, it’s going to seem much harder down the road when I have other things on my plate. So I need to stop waiting for the perfect moment when I have lots of extra time and nothing on my mind. That will likely never come. Do me a favor and remind me of that every now and then.

Why don't you stick around?

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Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: creative habit, film photography, twyla tharp, writing

A farm wedding

June 19, 2012 by Cassie

Remember when I told you one of my bestest friends was getting married recently? Well, I thought I’d share some photos I took with Ole (Somewhat) Faithful from that busy, magical, and love-filled weekend. I tried to capture a lot of the little moments that went on behind the scenes as McKenzie, Jamie, their families, and friends prepared for the wedding on the farm. It was amazing watching it all come together (seriously, how are weddings possible?), and it couldn’t have resulted in a more perfect day for the couple. The official photographer’s photos aren’t yet public* (and I can’t wait until they are!), but a teaser photo or two show me they’re going to be stellar. I, on the other hand, will keep my photography skills at the hobby level. As long as I’m shooting with film, anyway. Once again, I managed to expose an entire roll. Whoops.

For now, enjoy this glimpse of life on the farm.

*UPDATE! The ridiculously talented official wedding photographer, Lydia Jane, has updated her blog to include some truly gorgeous shots of the wedding. To see a true photographer’s touch capturing the beauty of that day, head over here.

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: ermahgerd a werdhing, film photography, Oliver and Abraham's

Sowing the seeds of love

June 8, 2012 by cassie

There’s a heightened sense of energy in my world this week, and it’s not just because I have a physically impossible project to complete this month or because my 12-year-old sister is turning into a scary, emotional, adolescent demon right before my eyes. (Though both of these things certainly add to said energy. Also, I still love my sister.) The main source of such excitement is that one of my closest friends, McKenzie, is getting married this weekend. Cue girly giddiness.

Bathroom in a barn - the high school days of maturity.

McKenzie is the first of my friends to get married, and I’m honored to be one of her bridesmaids in the upcoming lovefest. In a flurry of activity and a growing list of items not to forget (including about five changes of outfits, curlers, a tent, my camera, and toilet paper), I’m reminding myself that no matter how busy I might feel, McKenzie is ten times busier. But she’s handling it like a pro.

It’s a strange coming-of-age feeling for all of our friends who have known each other since high school or earlier to come together for such a grown-up day. Though many engagements have popped up on my Facebook news feed in the past few years– some exciting, some downright worrisome– this one is closer to home. And I’m genuinely psyched to watch one of my best friends get hitched to a guy who couldn’t be a better match for her. The best part? McKenzie and Jamie are getting married on the farm they call home (along with their alpacas, sheep, and ducklings), and we’ll spend the night dancing and camping under the stars in celebration of their lerv.

I’m prepared with eight rolls of film for the big event, so get ready for photo overload sometime in the near future. For now, let me direct you to McKenzie’s blog, Oliver & Abraham’s, where I contributed a guest post so the bride-to-be can focus on more important things– like decorating the porta-potties.

Congrats, McKenzie and Jamie. I’m so happy to call you both my good friends.

Why don't you stick around?

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Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: friends, oh mah gah i need shoes, twenty-something

Striking a balance

May 21, 2012 by cassie

I’m not the type to blame my character flaws on astrology, but I do believe I fit the description of a Libra freakishly well. As an October baby, I have trouble making decisions, I love love, and I require a great deal of balance in life in order to be happy. Luckily, decisions can be made by playing the hold-your-breath-close-your-eyes-and-POINT-to-one game, and I’ve got my love to keep me warm. (D’aww.)

Balance, however, is slightly more difficult to achieve. These days, every day is a whirlwind of activity. Each morning starts easily enough: I drive my luxuriously short commute to work and am there from 9 to 2:30. Them’s part-time hours. But for the past three-plus months, I’ve tacked on an additional 30-minute drive after that to go work for two hours in the city at Urbanite magazine as their editorial intern. (If you’ve been reading Witty Title Here, that should sound vaguely familiar.) When I’m done there, I’m just in time for rush hour. On a great day, it’ll only take half an hour to get home. On a bad day, you can find me adding curse words to G-rated songs for a solid hour.

I’ll be finishing up my office hours at Urbanite soon, and then I’ll be starting a paid project. Which is exciting, because it’s paid. But it’ll still make for a lot of driving. So how, in the meantime, do I maintain my sanity and fit in exercise, blogging, occasional freelancing, laundry, family bonding, and zombie zone-out time for that balance I oh-so-crave?

For the past three months, it’s been hard. I picked up the editorial gig mainly as a way to boost my resume and get some valuable experience. But I also did it because, at the time, I felt a great sense of imbalance. I had more down-time than work-time. Which, as I type this, sounds glorious. But I hate wasting time, and I felt like I was letting that happen. Now, I don’t have enough hours in the day. Maybe I should look up characteristics of a Libra again. Is “never satisfied” one of them?

This weekend, however, I felt like I got to do everything I’ve been meaning to do. Aside from being social (wahoo!), I got in a run with John, sat in the sun with a good book, finally put all my winter clothes in storage, washed my car and was therefore responsible for the rain, and cleaned my room. A combination of productivity and relaxation makes for a VERY happy me. And because I tend to go awhile between room cleanings, I thought I’d better take some photos of it while it’s still cute:

I love it so neat and tidy! But here’s a photo to give you an idea of what it’s usually like:

And the closet, even on cleaning day, always looks like this:

One day at a time.

Why don't you stick around?

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Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: libras crave balance, my abode, photography
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