Hello My Old Friend Misery

My old friend Misery made a visit today.
Strutted in he did, his head high and that childish grin on his face.
"Hullo," I said as he held out his coat for me to hang up.
My eyes were wide in bewilderment at the entity I hadn't seen in quite some time.
He gave me a nod, and tipped his hat off into his hand.
"I had some business in town today-- thought I might stop by," his pointed face curled into a smile as he passed me his hat as well and lowered himself into my chair.
"Long time no see," I mumbled more to myself than him as I hung up his things.
"Yes," the words slid from his thin lips, "It has been quite long my dear. You've been doing well," he crossed his legs and spread his arms out along the chair.
"What's your business?" I asked.
"Some gal over in Richmond," he replied, "Her writings have been furious lately in that ol' journal she's been venting to. I'm a bit concerned her friend Anger has stayed his fair share of time so I thought I'd stop by there as well and strike a deal. Have you got any tea?"
"No," I shook my head, "Coffee? I never developed much a taste for tea."
He shook his head 'no' and gestured for me to sit beside him.
Caution eased into my senses as I sat beside him, my hands stiff on my knees, and elbows locked in strain.
Everything about him called to me. I longed to scoot closer but my past experiences kept me restrained. I'd be fine as long as I didn't let my gaze drop into his eyes.
"Oh, don't be a stranger," his arm slipped over my shoulder and he pulled me in closer, wrapping me in a cold embrace. My body stiffened with memories. The ice of pure desire seeped into my veins-- it was so easy to fall back into his arms.
"Misery..." I mumbled, my head falling deeper and deeper into his haze of charm, "I just can't..." I whimpered.
My arms pushed away, meek with addiction, but my whole being yearned for his.
"Aw," he whispered, "Chloé don't worry. I'm always here for you." He placed his head on top my head and pressed his lips into my wild mess of hair.
I untangled myself from him and pulled away. I held my gaze down in my lap; my eyes couldn't meet his or I'd be stuck.
"I'm sorry-- You should leave," I whispered. "You shouldn't have come here Misery."
He froze and I could feel those blue eyes burn into me.
"You know I won't stop until I have you back," he spoke firm.
I lifted my chin and turned my face away from his.
"I'm avoiding you at all cost this time around," my voice sounded strong.
He reached out for me, but I swayed back from his grasp.
"I'm not giving up on you just yet," he replied. He sat there for a moment longer, but I never once made met his eyes. After a few moments he stood, grabbed his things, and placed his hat on his head.
"Until next time my dear," he bid farewell.
My jaw tightened, and I tried to appear cold and unfathomed as he walked out.
The world spun around me as my mind registered my close encounter with Misery.
Despite my deep desire to fall into the comfort of his embrace, I had won this battle.
But my mind shrivels in fear of his ominous, and inevitable return.

Until next time,
C.R. Daniels

O la navidad- the lost magic

This year it simply didn't feel like Christmas.
No holly.
No jolly.
No ho-ho-ho-ing.
I just felt tragically ordinary.
My marine, we'll call him David, came home finally. It's been seven months but he made it back for Christmas. Shouldn't that have put me in an extra-fantastic Christmas spirit? I thought it should.
But it didn't.
I spent my Christmas in a thinking cycle interrupted with slight satisfactions. Mostly my mind was in a constant turmoil questioning my every move.
It's that whole process of figuring out what we want right?
Right.
My mind has been somewhere else whilst I carried on in these holiday festivities.
When snacking on Christmas eve with the family my mind wandered to--"Why is my dad being such a grouch? Can't he smile?"
When lying on the couch watching Christmas specials my mind wandered to--"I used to love these. I used to think Christmas was so magical and filled with possibility. What happened? Why does today feel like any other?"
When playing taboo while the fire crackled my mind wandered to-- "When can I go see David and his Christmas?"
When I went to David's I wondered--"I wonder if everyone here really wants us to get married. I wonder if they can tell I have no true intentions of marrying this boy. I wonder if they can see I'm distant, or that David treats me like chop liver, or that I love this family but hate being with him sometimes?"
Over and over and over my mind cycled. And that was only Christmas eve.
It's lost it's magic. The sacred magic I so valued only a few years ago. How could I have misplaced it?
And I wonder.
Shall I ever find it again?
I'd sure like to.
Maybe it all went back to when I found out that Santa Claus isn't real.
I'm just babbling now.
But my babbling directly reflects the way my mind is functioning at the moment. Lost. confused. A maelstrom of doubt, wonder, and hope.
This can't be it for my Christmases.
Such an idea is devastating.
I want the magic back.
I know that.
I know that in life I will always want hope of the possibility. I can never give up on what is possible because if I gave up on something like possibility what would be left to live for?
You know those empty shell people? The kind of people that follow routine, go day to day living monotonous, prosaic, and mundane. Do you think it's because they're too afraid to venture outside of this box and comfort cycle? Or perhaps it's because they don't know how to go about changing it? Change is a scary thing. I'll admit.
I can be afraid of it as well. But i try to embrace it.
Anyway.
These empty shell people.
My dad is one of those. Sad. The truth can be sad.
He gave up on life a long time ago I think. He had this huge potential early on in life that he never went after because he never had ambition. All the doors were there. I can't even call them doors because they were more like sirens blaring in his face screaming for him to take a chance that he never took.
Now.
I think he regrets ignoring those sirens.
And because of it-- he's dead inside.
I don't want that- ever.
I can't help but wonder is that a result of a lifetime of disappointment? I think not.
I think it's due to available opportunities that he thought would always be there but disappeared with a blink of an eye when he denied them. He killed the possibilities. Hope was lost in his mind. Gave up.
I never want to give up on hope.
I know that happens to a lot of people, and at eighteen I haven't been 'jaded' enough in life to let my hope die. I hope I'm always strong enough to keep it alive.
....
So how does this connect to my beginning start of talking about Christmas?
Losing hope in the spirit of Christmas? Realizing the possibility of Santa Claus is fraudulent?
I think it connects to expectations, and disappointment, which all relates to losing hope.
Which I'll never lose.
I apologize to anyone reading this. Probably made little to no sense. But. I feel slightly better after writing it.

Until next time,
C.R. Daniels

My Florida Fiasco

Haha.

What was I thinking?

Move to Florida and get the fuck out of Central Illinois?

Yep. That is exactly what I was thinking.

Let me relate to you the two month stint I had in Florida.

Fresh out of high school, and I was ready- ready to do what no other graduate from my high school was going to do; ready to go where no one from my high school would be; ready to get out of the one place I’d lived for the last eighteen years. I was moving to Florida.

My plan was to the University of Central Florida in Orlando. I was interested in going into creative writing and this school had a really great program. The campus was the fifth biggest campus in the United States, one of the fastest growing universities in the nation, and all this was a mere two miles away from my Aunt Kelly. Perfect right? I thought so. Sure I barely knew my aunt and almost never talked to her, and sure I had never really managed my own finances, but those were just small technicalities of course. I was certain Florida would be the most perfect choice for me. I also already had two job interviews set up for me when I arrived. I wanted to work as much as possible over the summer so I could put away some money to pay for books and perhaps help out a little on tuition.

May 26^th, 2009, two days after graduation, I was packed up and on a plane to Orlando. The reason I decided to move down there over the summer was so that I could gain residency as quickly as possible and then be able to pay in state tuition. It usually takes about nine months to gain residency so I was prepared to pay full price tuition for a semester or even a year. After that tuition would be no problem because it was only about four grand a year and then I wouldn’t have to take out any school loans.

As the plane was about to land the girl I was sitting next to me let out a big sigh.

“You live here?” she asked without so much as glancing over at me.

“Well, ya, I guess now I do. I’m moving here actually,” she nodded her head as if apologizing.

“You don’t like it here?” I pushed, a bit curious now.

“Eh,” she shrugged and started digging around in her purse, pulling out a box of cigs and a lighter. “My parents live here. I grew up here. I hate it here. It’s not a place to live, people just like to visit.”

“Oh,” I replied trying not to let her lack of enthusiasm dim my chipper. “Well I’m excited bout it.”

Then she looked at me for the first time and gave me a slight smirk.

“You’re young,” she replied, “You’ll learn.”

In retrospect I feel as if I should have taken this advice as the omen of doom it truly was.

My aunt was waiting for my mom and I at the front gates when we arrived.

“Welcome to Florida,” she smiled as we loaded our things into her car.

“I can’t believe I’m here,” I smiled.

“Me either,” my mom muttered a strong sense of reluctance lining her words.

“Soon enough you’ll be calling this home!” Aunt Kelly laughed and my mom sighed.

“How are you doing Kim?” Kelly asked my mom.

“Oh alright,” she spoke softly, “It’s just hard. I’m okay right now; I imagine I’ll be much worse when I go back to Illinois and Chloé is still here. You know it’s never too late for you to go to ICC, Chloé.”

I rolled my eyes and pretended like I didn’t hear her. There was no way I’d go to ICC. I knew my mom was unsure about this whole idea, and my dad hated the thought of me being twenty-two hours away from home, but I had to do this. I felt like I had to prove to myself that I could escape the ordinary, and I was convinced that if I stayed home and went to ICC I would be stuck in monotony and restricted to a life of normality. I don’t know why I was so afraid of something so ridiculous, but at the time being like everyone else was the most terrifying idea.

About a month after I started my new life down in Orlando I started to feel overwhelmed by responsibilities, especially when it came to money. Balancing two jobs was too much so I decided to drop my waitressing job to go on full time at the bookstore. Money slipped through my fingers like water. Five dollars here, ten bucks there, and before I knew it I had nothing to show for the forty hours of work I’d done that week. Every time I bought something I would justify the purchase by telling myself it was the last time I’d spend money on myself, but then something else always came up that I just had to have. I also felt like I had lost my motivation to do anything. When I had decided to move down to Florida I wanted to make a point to concentrate on my writing, but since moving down here I hadn’t done any writing. I was constantly distracted with going out with friends from work, and writing was the last thing on my mind.

In the beginning of July I went to UCF’s freshman orientation. I couldn’t believe how many people were in just one orientation. The ballroom was packed and it seemed like everyone knew everyone and their families were all there supporting them, and here I was in the middle of the crowd completely alone and completely lost. During orientation I felt overwhelmed and at one point I called my mom near tears telling her I needed to come home and go to ICC because I just couldn’t deal with college on my own

“Sweetheart, you know we’ll always want you home, but maybe you should think this over,” she said to me as I sat outside of the Student Union while all the incoming freshman were inside lunching with their families.

“I don’t know Mom, I just don’t know. It’s just so hard. I don’t like doing this all on my own. And I don’t like living with Aunt Kelly- it’s just awkward,” I could hear my words tremble. I was so close to breaking down.

“I know, living in someone else’s home is always an adjustment. I think you just need to do some soul searching and figure out what it is you really want to do,” my mom advised. We talked about it for a little while longer before I hung up and headed back to the join the rest of the prospective freshman class.

For weeks I battled the idea of coming home or not. I avoided talking to Kelly about the situation because I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. Living with her was hard because it didn’t feel like I belonged there. She had her own life and in ways it felt like she was trying to impose her life on mine. At times it seemed she was trying to be a replacement mom for me while I was down there; that made living with her uncomfortable and confusing.

The idea of coming home was appealing and repelling all at the same time. If I came home it was as if I’d be admitting defeat. I never wanted to attend a community college, I never wanted to do the ordinary and I definitely didn’t want to do what I knew over half of the graduation class of Metamora High was planning on doing. I also knew that I really needed to make some serious changes I wasn’t ready for in my life if I wanted to stay in Florida. I needed to grow up, and I needed to grow up fast if Florida was my choice.

In the end of July my best friend Delayna came down to visit me. It was wonderful seeing someone who really knew me, and having her there made me feel more at home, and more like Chloé again.

“Do you like it here?” she asked one day while we were lying out by the pool.

“Yeah,” I paused thinking my response over. “Well, actually, no. I really don’t. I feel like I can’t take anything seriously here in Orlando.”

“Ya, I think I would have the same problem,” she agreed.

“Really? It’s just everyone I meet here has no motivations to do anything, ya know? It’s weird and kind of contagious.”

“Well ya, why would you have any motivations if the beach is a half hour away, there are dance clubs everywhere, and theme parks take up three fourths of the whole city,” she laughed.

“Exactly,” I sighed, a wave of relief washing over me knowing that she understood. “It’s just like I’m at a stand still here. I don’t see myself going anywhere being down here. Not only can I not take it seriously, but I’m awful with money, and I’m tired of living with my aunt, and the school is just too big, and I don’t have any motivation to do anything down here! I can’t take this. I want to take Florida seriously, but I can’t. I just want to go home. Orlando is a vacation spot- not a place where people actually live. So why am I trying to live here?”

Del shrugged.

“You tell me,” she replied.

I now knew exactly what the girl on the plane had meant. That’s when it hit me- I was going home. It hit me like a semi going seventy miles per hour, an epiphany and a revelation.

The next day I called my mom to tell her I was coming home. The day I made that decision was a Monday, and by Wednesday morning at four A.M. Del and I had piled all my belongings into my little Dodge neon and started the long trek home. My aunt was sad to see me go but she said that she understood. She had moved several times in her life and said that she probably wouldn’t have even lasted a week if she had done the same thing I had. My parents were more than supportive of my decision. The conversation between Del and I by the pool made me realize that I really didn’t want to be in Florida. I was trying to make it work when really it wasn’t my dream, and it really wasn’t what I had wanted to do. I had made the decision to move to Florida on a whim when I realized my dream school in Chicago, Illinois was too expensive.

University of where?

Where would I even begin to explain how my search for the "right" college has been. I believe the search really began when I was a freshman in high school. Maybe even before then. In fact-- I think I can even recall searching for this supposed place of educational utopia when I was in seventh grade. Being the determined thirteen year old I was, I remember a particular incident where I thought my life was over because I didn't get into eighth grade advanced algebra. It was a pretty devastating blow. I was then sure that no college would ever want me. I could see how the conversation with Princeton would go:
"We see you've managed to maintain a 4.0 grade point average througout your high school career," the prestigious man in the glasses and three piece suit would say as he peered at my application from behind a gigantic desk.
"Yes, and I was in all Honors classes," I'd smile, eager to impress.
"Oh, and you were an Illinois State Scholar I see? Oh and class president? Nationals Honor Society as well."
"Yes," I'd nod, "All while maintaining a full time job, and singing in musicals, and madrigals, and a state choir!"
"Hmm... very good, very good," he'd reply enthused with my impressive achievements and time management skills. "Oh but wait-"
My heart would pound so loud as I'd watch the smile slip from his face.
"Oh, no. What could it be? Surely not..."
"Is it true you were not accepted into you're eighth grade Advanced Algebra class?" His eyebrow would raise in my direction and I'd be able to see a certain decisiveness set into his features.
"Well... yes, but haven't you seen my credentials? My references--" I'd stumble for words.
"No need to explain. Thank you, that will be all," he'd interupt, crumple up my application, and toss it along with my hopes, dreams, and aspirations in life into the waste bin.

I was certain it would happen in just that way.

So how did I end up at the last place in the world that I ever wanted to be?

Well.

To cut a long story short-- I thought I had figured everything out, and by the summer before my senior year I had been accepted into my dream college. I figured I didn't need to waste my time applying to other universities when my top choice had already accepted me.

That was mistake number one and possibly the biggest mistake of all in this whole process.

About mid-april of my senior year, when good ol' FAFSA got back to me, I realized that if I went to my dream school I'd end up with over $80,000 in debt by the time I graduated... with an english creative writing major.

Not gunna happen.

So. I had to scramble for a new choice when I hadn't checked out any other school. I applied to several schools, and decided on University of Central Florida for various reasons.

That's right.

Fucking Florida.

I was going to move twenty two hours away from my family and everything I knew just so I could avoid having to go to a community college.

Mistake number two.

I moved down to Florida two days after I graduated.

Moved back to Illinois late July.

Thus. My current state of being a student at a community college.

Now. I have a year and a half to decide on where I should go for college for my junior and senior year. So many options.

What do I want?

I want a school that has a good english department.

I want a school that is not going to put me into $80,000 in debt.

I want a school that provides plenty of opportunities such as internships and double major.

I want to have the chance to study abroad.

I want to be in a metropolitan/urban setting.

Ok...

So...

Now what?

Until next time,

C.R. Daniels

Purpose of this blog.

What I want can be such a difficult thing to come by..

An idea will float by.

Quick!

I grab it. I harvest it. Nurture it. believe it. dream it. live it. feel it.

and for a slight period of time I feel I've discovered my life's purpose. The one thing I was meant to do- molded for from birth and fitted so someday I could fall perfectly in that special place built just for me.

But this slight period of time is brief.

And brief is fleeting.

And this brief flees.

And I'm left, once again, to the imperative question: What now?

What now Miss Chloé?

What shall I do.

What shall I want.

Who would have thought figuring out what I want could be so very very hard. Isn't a thing like that supposed to be innate?

Anyway.

The purpose of this blog is that exactly. It's about my life as an eighteen year old student at a community college. It's about my experiences in dealing with a long term relationship with my boyfriend of over a year who decided to join the Marines. It's about dealing with my overly protective mother, my drone of a father, my three parrots, two boxers, and one chihuahua, my four siblings, and myself.

This blog is about myself.

Myself and trying to figure out what I want. In all things. In all honesty.

I'm going to be honest with myself.

Sometimes that is the hardest thing to do.

Well.

Here we go.

I'm curious to see how this helps me.

We'll see.

I'll see.

Until next time,

CRDaniels