Scars Fade

As I'm sure you can tell, blogging is not something I am able to do on a consistent basis. I've tried. I've wanted to. But, most times, I just simply have no clue what to write. Apparently, I need inspiration. Something that strikes to the very core of me in order to write about it. Let's face it - I'm not a writer. I'd love to be, but without inspiration, I truly have a block that keeps me from writing anything meaningful. And if I try, it reads as gibberish.

Well, as I'm sure you've assumed by now, inspiration has struck. In a manner of speaking. I know what I'm wanting to write about; I'm just having a difficult time getting the right words down. So, let's just start with this:

There was once a girl, who loved a boy very much. Sadly, she had to say good-bye to him because their love wasn't enough to keep them together. He was her true first love. She had known no greater pain than what was caused by her whole world coming down around her. She thought, surely, there is no coming back from this. The hurt was too great. Her heart was in pieces; one of which he still had. And, she thought, he always would. How, then, could she ever fully heal? Well, as we all know, time truly heals. We tend not to believe so when in the thick of our most difficult trials, but it does all the same. If we take that time, combine it with good friendships and the love of family, then we have a powerful concoction indeed. No hurt can withstand it. Deep enough wounds may leave scars, but scars fade. You'll always remember how the scar came to be, but the pain is no longer present. There is a wonderful, poignant line from the movie Kung Fu Panda 2: "You've got to let go of the stuff from the past – because it just doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is what you choose to be now." How true that is... Not only is that single quote responsible for lifting the seemingly crushing weight and fog of heartbreak, it is also the catalyst for a complete shift in this girl's thinking. Because of that, with the love and support from her family and dear friends, she was able to rise above the hurt and pain... And leave it all behind. Her heart may not yet be whole, but she's ok with that. He meant enough to her he can hold onto a piece - for a little while longer.

Yesterday, I picked up some boxes of mine I had missed in the move out of Don's house. As I was getting ready to put them in my storage unit today, I decided to go through them to see if whatever was in there was even worth keeping. In doing so, I came across a poem I had written a couple of years ago that I had completely forgotten about. As I read over it, I was flooded with an overwhelming feeling of happiness from the memories brought to the surface by these simple words. I wrote them in 2009, just a few short months into the beginning of mine and Don's relationship. Even though we are no longer together, this poem and the subsequent memories really do not bring about the hurt and pain one might expect to experience. Those first months of "Us" was truly the happiest time of my life. How could I not look back on them with fondness? Sure, something deep in me aches when I think of how it all went wrong, but I refuse to let that ruin or taint the memories I have of him and our time together. They deserve more than that. Anyhow, I will share the poem seeing as it is what inspired this post. Enjoy! And thanks for reading.


~Fairytale~

So this is love, they sang
Cinderella and her prince
How funny it really is
They knew nothing of this

"This" is our love
And "This" is our time
"This" is something exceptional
Truly quite fit for rhyme

No words could do justice
To how you make me feel
You are my one true love
My prince with the glass heel

Cinderella's story may only be
One of fairytale lore
But mine has just started
With the man I adore

~Cara Baker '09

One Day

Barnes & Noble sent me an email last week advertising a *cue announcer voice* MEMBERS ONLY ONE DAY 50% off SALE. Now, normally, I ignore these. Not because I'm not a member - I definitely am (can we say Bookworm?) - I just usually don't have the funds to participate in those oh so tempting "One Day Only!!"-but-will-happen-again-in-a-few-weeks sales. However, in this case, I decided to check it out. Not only were hundreds of books 50% off, but a good chunk of them were eligible for their Buy 2, Get the 3rd Free promotion. Seeing as I had about $20 I could spend on myself, I jumped in. And bought me 5 books for just over $15. Oh and the best part? Free express shipping! Ya know, since I'm a member and all. *ahem* Anywho. The whole point of that lead-in story was to get to the true core of this post (the first in 3 months, I know! Sorry!). One of the books I purchased is a (so far) wonderful ditty called "One Day" (now a major motion picture starring Anne Hathaway and Jim Sturgess). It's the story of two friends who meet, go their separate ways, write to each other, meet again, fight, love, go their separate ways, etc. over the course of 20 odd years; essentially a "When Harry Met Sally" for this generation. Well, here's the official "back cover" synopsis. It lays it out better than I can.

"It's 1988 and Dexter Mayhew and Emma Morley have only just met. But after only one day together, they cannot stop thinking about one another. Over twenty years, snapshots of that relationship are revealed on the same day - July 15th - of each year. Dex and Em face squabbles and fights, hopes and missed opportunities, laughter and tears. And as the true meaning of this one crucial day is revealed, they must come to grips with the nature of love and life itself."

Interesting, yes? I thought it was. This much you know considering I bought the book. I had two reasons for that. One reason is because, yes, I liked the premise of the story. The second reason, well, I guess you could call that the "real" reason. It seemed the story of my life with a certain man had been plucked up, written down, then made into a movie. I'm sure I'm not the only one who has felt that way. The book (again, so far; I'm not quite finished) is quite poignant and could be applied to any number of people's lives, I'm sure. And it's not as if the story mirrors mine in every way. It's just rather parallel.

Just as with the book now, I don't know how my life with this certain man (whom we'll call Don because, let's face it, you all know that's who I'm talking about anyway) will end up. He and I have decided we need to take another break. Is it hard? Yes. Is it heartbreaking? Yes. Is it the best decision? Yes... However, I can promise you there will not be a repeat of the previous posts. I'm not revisiting that. Frankly, I have too much to do to allow myself to wallow in grief this time. I'll hold him and what we have in my heart with the hope that, one day, we (and the book) will have our happy ending. One day...

Is It Just Me

I used to write poetry often. It was always a very cathartic practice for me; just as writing this blog is quickly becoming. Maybe that's the reason 98% of my poems were written during my angsty, turbulent teen years (would that description be a redundancy? or an oxymoron? hmm, curious). As I was getting ready earlier today, the first few lines of a new poem just popped into my head. Not surprising, really, seeing as how today hasn't exactly been easy. So I sat down, worked out the rest of it and am now posting it here for your reading pleasure. Or torture, depending on how you feel about poetry. Heh...here goes:

Do you think of me as I think of you
When memories brush your thoughts
Does a tear slip through
Do you remember my smile as I remember yours
Or ache to hear my laugh as I ache for yours
Is there a void in your heart yearning to be filled
A piece of you gone, damage too deep to be healed

Or is it just me

Did it hurt to watch me walk away
As it hurt me to know I couldn't stay
Do you wonder how it all went wrong
When, together, we've always known we belong
Have you ever reached for me in your sleep
And breathe in my scent the pillow seems to keep

Or is it just me

Will you miss me as I'll miss you
Still love me as I'll love you
Never forget me and what I meant to you

Or is it just me...

~Cara M. Baker~
'11

Toxic Release

Last night, my awesome mother treated me to a massage at the parlor she frequents. It was so relaxing and SO needed. One problem... I woke up today with what I'd have to say is massage hangover. I am so sore, tired and, predominantly, depressed. I know that a massage will release toxins from your muscles, but does that include your heart as well? The last few days I have been doing really well. Better than I thought I ever could be after suffering through one of the most heart-wrenching events of my life (I should have written more on those good days; then maybe this wouldn't be turning out to be the most depressing blog ever... heh). Today, though, I'd have to say I'm at the worst I've felt since... "the event". Is this just coincidence and it was bound to happen? Or did that massage work more out of me than physical discomfort? If it's because of the massage, then I'd like to think this mood will be like the sore muscles: just a by-product of working out some issues that will resolve itself on it's own. I'm not too keen on having to start from square one when it comes to my emotional happy place. Truthfully, the first time around, that happened in the blink of an eye. I think the reason for that was because the strength and inspiration I needed came so unexpectedly that I ended up being more open to it than I'd normally be. I'm not sure that could happen again. I'd like for it to, but if I'm being completely honest with myself, I just don't think it could. Or maybe I'm just reading WAY more into it and this is just a bad day. Probably the most likely reason. When I really think about it, a week and 5 days is not enough time to be "over it". It just isn't. That 12 days may have been the longest and hardest of my life, but it's still only 12 days. And, since we're being honest here, I don't think I'll ever be over it. Moved on? Happy? Really doing "fine"? Yes. But over it? No, I don't think so.

Giving It A Shot

I cannot begin to count how many times I’ve been told I need to write. Write my story, share my thoughts, even if only to myself, write down my goals in life, write a book, yadda yadda. Or as one of my all-time favorite actors, Yul Brenner, famously said: “..etcetera etcetera”. For those of you thinking to yourself: “huh?”, that would be from The King & I starring Yul and the always wonderful Deborah Kerr. One of the few Rodgers & Hammerstein musicals that , not only can I watch without needing a puke bowl nearby for relief from the inevitable effects of their over-the-top, campy, eye-roll inducing songwriting, but actually love with a deep, nostalgic passion. Oh, trust me, the songwriting is just as cheesy as any of their other works and there are a number of songs where I’d rather stab ice picks into my eardrums than listen to. Which, I’m sure, makes you think “you’ve thought of suffering through a very painful, self-inflicted deafening, yet you LOVE this movie?” Yes, yes I do. The reason, pure and simple, is the talented, nay captivating, Yul Brenner. But, I digress.

The reason I have never actually followed the advice and, occasionally, outright demands from those I know and love isn’t because of my innate rebelliousness (honest!). Nor is it because of a shortage of things to write about. It’s simply because I cannot write. I have hundreds upon hundreds of ideas, thoughts and stories floating around in my better than average sized brain (Ha! Almost kept a straight face on that one!). It’s getting them down on paper in a cohesive, readable manner that always proves to be a problem. In fact, these two paragraphs have taken me well over 30 minutes to jot down. Yeah, I’m not kidding. It’s like my brain gets ahead of my hands. They just simply can’t keep up with my over-active thought process. I hear it in my head and it’s awesome! It even makes me chuckle to myself quite often. I get funny looks from strangers. Hell, even the people who know me look at me like “wtf?” more often than I care to admit. But I don’t care. I’m entertained. And… it took me another 15 minutes just to spit those last three sentences out. See? Even when I’m trying to describe my brain getting ahead of itself as the reason I can’t write, it goes and gets ahead of itself! (A-head of itself… oh that’s funny! Bring on the weird looks.) Why do I struggle? I have issues, that’s why!

So I’ve now hijacked the laptop for as long as she’ll allow me to. Which means of course I may get two or three sentences and then she’ll decide that it’s her turn again which will royally piss me off but since it’s her laptop and her document for that matter I can hardly complain, much less get majestically irritated… BREATHE!

Ok, so the only reason I started typing here is because I’m sitting in Grounds for Coffee next to the love of my life, and whiling away the hours while her van gets fixed. I can scarce conceive of a better way to spend a Saturday afternoon. There is no pressure to go anywhere, since our transportation is kaput, as the kiddies say, and no need to do anything but just BE. Here and now. In the moment. Life is full of these unexpectedly eclectically romantic moments and I am eternally grateful.

She’s just gone up to the barista to ask why the advertised “free wireless internet” isn’t working, which means that I only have a few moments remaining of adding my stream-of-consciousness attempt at silly humor to this.

But I know that you will save this and read it from time to time, so burn these words into that fine and creative mind of yours: WRITE! Please? Your spoken words captivate me. Your written words have done as much, and methinks it quite possible that if thou wouldst only investify (that was what a call Shakespeare-Bush wordeology) a measure of time each day to reduce thy humorous rantings and ramblings to printed page the world would be a better place, sort of like MY world has become a better place.

I love thee Cara Marie.

So, that would be Don. My forever love. I let him read what I wrote (considering he is the primary inspiration behind this little exercise) and he steals my laptop! The audacity! He’s lucky I love him. Actually… I think it’s funny that he thinks he’s the lucky one. That’s MY title. I mean, hello?? Did you read what he wrote? How could I possibly think I wasn’t the luckiest person alive?
He couldn’t be more right how wonderful this Saturday afternoon is. Who knew sitting for hours on end waiting for a vehicle to be fixed, knowing it’s going to put a dent in the pocketbook, could be so downright fulfilling? I’ve never been so content in my life. It’s happiness. Pure happiness. I can say without a shred of doubt that I have never known the true meaning of that word. Not to its fullest extent. That’s not to say I haven’t had wonderful or even miraculous moments. I have two beautiful children. What kind of mother would I be if I believed that was anything less than miraculous? But true happiness? No, I have not been acquainted with that until very recently. See, happiness is more than just “moments” and, contrary to popular theory, it’s not a state of mind. It’s a state of being. Just being. It’s when you can sit in a coffee shop where the advertised WIFI won’t work, after getting up at 5am to prepare for a yard sale with only a few hours of sleep under your belt because you were up late into the night cleaning out a garage (hence the yard sale), then sitting for hours on your front lawn actually doing the yard sale, then driving down 3300 South in Salt Lake City scared out of your mind that your vehicle will quit on you any second on your way to the shop, then sitting for a couple of hours in said coffee shop and just… be. It’s also when you get the phone call informing you your vehicle is ready just as you’ve figured out the reason for the non-connectivity of aforementioned WIFI was simply because the wireless capability was turned off on your laptop and you can just shake your head and laugh. It’s having your soulmate at your side laughing at him nearly knocking over a table simply by placing his phone on it. It’s the little things that make you go “mmmm”. That’s peace. That’s contentment. That’s love. And all that, my friends, is happiness.

And that dear readers, is all the proof you should ever need that a) Cara CAN write, and b) Don is indeed the lucky one. I need say no more.