part one

listening to Dylan at 11:41. what else is new.

I am slightly drunk after going to a bar tonight. I love writing when I'm shit-faced. Getting cocktail(s) with a friend is a great end to another shit day in my miserable excuse of a life. I love hearing life stories over a gin & tonic.

Confession time.
I am absolutely in love with this Jewish kid. The only thing that gets me out of bed is running into him on campus at random times during the day. Why? This kid makes me so goddamn nervous. I'll tell you why. Because he does not give a fuck about what anyone thinks about him. He is in his own little world. Yeah, I guess he gives me a reason to put makeup on in the morning, I guess he gives me an excuse to be more on campus, I suppose he makes me want to write more and be more interested in things... I just hate my infatuation with him. You know, I'm not looking for anything in anyone's eyes; but I know I am definitely missing something in my life. Drinking, smoking, what-the-fuck-have-you; I can do it on repeat every single day/weekend... but I feel so empty. I am empty. I feel nothing. I am just another robot in this so-called middle-classed faux utopia that I've created for myself.

I would like to consider myself religious – though of what religion, I have yet to discover, but I do have faith. I have faith in the present and my absurd perseverance in trying to discover that I have faith in something. In anything. This is what I see “God” as a representation of. I know that I am looking for all the wrong things in the wrong people. Wasting time, wasting precious moments of what could be geared towards something, well, epic. I want that feeling, I need that feeling, that longing, of being able to open up The New York Times and seeing in print that God Is Dead. I have Visions of Johanna that Nietzsche…and Elton John for that matter, is right. That The Joshua Tree album is not complete bullshit; that Bono still hasn't found what he is looking for. But most of all, I want to be able to discover that sick hope that maybe I am not alone after all. That maybe my mother is wrong about this. That maybe I could stray away from what every woman in my family has managed to do – that I can find a way for me to not be lonely. I could break the cycle. And that doesn't necessary have to constitute having a man present either.

I always fucking do this. I am a five-minute lover. Always has been. I will fall in love at a distance, make up little fantasies in my mind, drink a lot, smoke a lot, have a good cry session. Bam. Over it. So quick to fall in love, I am.


This is all shit. This is just drunk Carolyn talking. Only three people really read this; and I think that's a good thing.


I just feel so empty. I hate waking up in the morning and doing the same goddamn routine every single fucking day. I want earth-shattering moments. I want crazy crazy crazy passion. Somewhere between this time last year and up till now - I've lost a good chunk of what makes me content. I think it's the fact that I have been unable to watch Conan every single night - or maybe I just really need to get laid. Who the fuck knows. I just want an out.

I can basically sum up this entire entry in Joni Mitchell words:
"If you need me, I'll be in the bar."


later.