All posts filed under: Personal

When Did You Stop Believing In Make Believe?

I like to play a game when I first meet people. It’s a game of questions. For all intents and purposes, let’s call it, “The Question Game.” It’s a wildly creative title, and it’s actually pretty simple. You go back and forth asking one question, and there’s only one rule: You aren’t allowed to ask the same question you’ve already been asked. This prevents the forced “what about you?” monotony that comes along with meeting new people, without killing the opportunity of an interesting exchange. Added bonus: Nobody gets caught up talking about themselves for three hours, because it’s a game. Questions start out with the basics: Where are you from? (New Hampshire.) What’s your favorite song? (“Holocene” by Bon Iver,  “Can’t Help Falling In Love” by Elvis, and every song by Bruce Springsteen.) What do you do for a work? (This is a terrible question. Don’t ask this.) After a few rounds, and perhaps a few glasses of whiskey, people generally loosen up. But I’ll let you in on a little secret. It’s never their …

On The Stanford Ruling.

I had another post scheduled for today, but this is more pressing. I actually wrote this post last night, and decided to sleep on it in an effort to determine whether or not it was something I actually wanted to speak to. I can still feel my blood boiling as I sit here pressing publish, but when bullshit happens out in the world, and it hits close to home, and you have a platform,  you react. You speak up. You contribute. You hope that somebody, somewhere, is (rather unfortunately) feeling what you’re feeling. So if you’re here, and you’ve read the title of this post,  I can only assume you are as furious as I am. In case you missed it, on Thursday, after originally facing 14 years in prison, Brock Turner was sentenced to a pitiful six months in county jail for viciously assaulting a young woman and for deserting her banged up body behind a dumpster like a piece of fucking street litter. She was left alone, half-naked, privates exposed, incapacitated, and didn’t …

Jam Baby, Jam.

My first cassette tape was Bryan Adams, “Cuts like a Knife”. I received it for Christmas one year, and from that moment on, I couldn’t (ahem–wouldn’t) fall asleep without it. Late at night, I’d even hear my dad tip toe into my room and turn the tape over. When my dad would pick me up from school, one of the first things he’d ask once I was in the car, even before “how was your day?”, was what I wanted to listen to. Sometimes he wouldn’t even have ask, because I’d already be begging him to put on one of the gazillion CDs that he kept in the center console. I’d slide the precious booklet out of its case and memorize the lyrics and pictures, and he’d reprimand me for creasing them far too often. Whether it was Fleetwood Mac, ACDC, Joe Cocker, Dire Straits, or The Eagles, those songs stayed with me long after the music stopped. At the age of 28, I still need music to do just about everything. Distracted by both silence and background noise, music always seems to …

Remembering Yourself in Moments

In a perfect world, I would have posted this on Mother’s Day. It’s not a perfect world, and I didn’t really see the significance behind the picture (other than it being one of my favorite pictures) until the tail end of the day, once the Bloody Marys were bottomed, the bacon was gone, and long after I strong-armed my dear mom into a promise that she’d watch The Martian. I’ll willingly confess that The Martian made me cry. It’s been a long while since a movie made me feel that many things, so I figured it was worth forcing upon a woman who notoriously hates space movies. Sorry, Mom… The photograph above has always been one of my favorite pictures of my sweet mother. I stole it from a photo album years ago, and it has accompanied me to the various cities and apartments I’ve called home. Usually, it sits tucked in my nightstand drawer, along with a photo of my dad playing softball, a photo of my brother, a photo of my parents when they …

Setting Your Own Boundaries

When I closed shop on Findingravity a year and a half ago, it was an emotional move. For five years, Findingravity documented my early twenties, my time living in New York City, and one of my most prominent long term relationships. It eventually became one of my most prominent breakups. Watching someone you love dearly move their half of three years out of your shared home hurts in a way I’ll never forget. And while the relationship wasn’t a failure, it was still disappointing to reach a conclusion that it also wasn’t really a success. We were young, coming from two separate countries, living in an arduous city, and our hearts were yearning for different things. That’s life. One aspect of the breakup that I had a hard time dealing with was how public it felt. Friends, family, and complete strangers suddenly had these opinions. Big opinions. On one hand, when you’re emailing a complete stranger on the internet to tell them they’re making a giant mistake about their life choices, you’re assuming the person …

Hold on to the good shit. Let go of the bull shit.

I’ve had the same 5 or so best friends most of my life. I’ve also met a few people in the last couple of years who have come into my life and changed it for the better. Collectively, this is a tribe of girlfriends whom I know would still support me if I woke up one morning and decided I just had to be the next global pop sensation. I mean they would DEFINITELY try to drag me out of the studio by my ponytail and talk me out of it (bless!), but they’d also be the first, and only ones at my concert. That’s important. Because from how big you mess up to how big you make it, it’s critical to have friends who have your back regardless. I also have a group of people I see super casually, and it’s GREAT when we run into each other. It’s usually in groups and it’s always a blast. We catch up, laugh, shimmy, and have a ball. These aren’t people I feel pressure to share my deepest life …

Hang tight, Renegades.

HEY BLOGOSPHERE! Remember moi? I’m working on something totally badass for you all, so just hang tight a little longer, because I have NOT forgotten about the sweet love we once shared. I’m not going to say too much, but I will let you know that I’ve been deliriously hunched over my computer late into the night and early into the morning buttoning this badgal up. So buckle your safety belts and hold onto the handlebars. Just kidding, lift your hands way up in the air and scream. The ride’s more fun that way. In the meantime,  do me a solid and drop a note to let me know you haven’t all flatlined on  me. You can also find me in Instagram and Twitter, if you feel like checking out what I’ve been up to. Let’s rendezvous soon, shall we? Carley. xoxo