My ideal partner must..

be able to tell colorful stories

entertain the fullness of both a room

and my mind

understand work ethic

value the world

and other people

listen to the lyrics of songs

enjoy nothingness

and overwhelming beauty

write

play

and read

be adventerous

know how to be alone

and coexist

Parking Tickets

For twenty-two years and almost 5 months, I have been raised by two incredible people - Mary Linn and Mark Dulan. I sit on my bed on this Tuesday afternoon, naked, with the windows open and cars and bus's zooming every so often down below. A half done, four foot painting stares at me from the corner of my studio apartment, whispering,

"thesis, thesis, thesis." 

I graduate in May. A turbulent two year relationship looms in the back of my mind.
Anxiety is a bitch.
Despite all of the quiet, yet extremely important things going on in my life at this moment, I clear my brain to thank the universe for my mother and father. If it wasn't for their undying support, I am not sure if I would be sitting her, in my studio apartment, in Milwaukee. You see, my parents have taught me many things and they have taught me in a very specific way. For example:
I had the worst day of my life three days ago. My father called me later in the day and immediately knew something was wrong by the sound of my voice. I began telling him about how Scott and I argued all night, how my manager only scheduled me on for the entire day, how the restaurant was SO BUSY, how I thought it was pay day - but it wasn't, and now I only have .40 to my name, how I got two parking tickets...and my father stops me right there - mid-complaint - and says,

"TWO parking tickets?! Cari common' How could you let that happen?!"

 I flip on him.

"Did you NOT just hear my day?! THAT is HOW it happened! EVERYTHING went to hell on me - weren't you listening?!"

He responds,

"and there was NO ONE you could CALL for HELP?"

At that second I know he is right. I am humbled and disappointed. My father knows I could get through all the rest of the things I was telling him - the relationship issues, work being busy, having no money. But when it comes to something in my control, a responsibility I have, I need to take care of it - even if that means asking for someones help. He knows I try to play super woman way too often. He knows, just like him, I have pride as thick as leather. But he knows how those attributes can get in the way of simple things like moving the vehicle so I don't get a ticket for $50. And it's a simple fix - simple, but not always easy.

October 20, 2013

I am not really sure how I'm going to get through this. But I know I will. I know I have gotten through much worse.

Today - I still fight.

(4 wks. ago)

"I love him."
We know.
But I choose the path that splits at the end,
like the bottoms of my blond strands
that flail to the middle of my back.
"This is hard."
We know.
And waving a white flag is impossible
like a ship without a sail
that continues in circles.
"I am sad."
Oh we know.
So I converse with my shadow,
like a pastor in a graveyard whispering to headstones
sentences no one cares to hear.

Bad Rhymes

I dropped the Y from your name
But the question still remains
I packed a plastic bag with your clothes
But my memories froze
To the time we made chowder
Since then I've yelled louder
Your toothbrush next to mine
I convince others I'm fine
The yellow tiger from the zoo
We were one, now we're two
I am left with haunting doubt
Who were your songs about?