Tuesday, September 18, 2012


On Sunday, September sixteenth, I had the best night of my life. I saw Owl City in concert.  
Kathleen and I stood in line for about an hour and a half, waiting to get in. It was general admission, so we were a bit antsy, hoping to get in and get a good spot. They finally let us in at 6:30, and we went in, and went right up to the front. We were pretty far back in the line, so we were surprised that we were able to be so close to the stage. Had there actually been seats, we would have been about the third row- and by the end of the night, everyone was so packed together, we would have been second row!
Action Item was the opening act. I'd never heard of them before, but now, their album is on my most played list on iTunes.

Anthony explaining how they get way too into playing music and make weird faces, and so they were going to pose as "true rockstars" so they wouldn't look silly.

Action Item posing as "true rockstars."

Marching Band... My new favorite song.

Then, the stage went dark, and the room went silent.

Adam comes out, and I died.

It's a scientific fact that Adam Young is the most gorgeous man on the face of the Earth.

"Here's a song for the shy boys and the pretty girls!"

During Fireflies, Adam stopped singing, and held the mic out to the audience. It was one of the coolest moments of the night.

Adam and Breanne Duren. I probably love her almost as much as him. All of my favorite songs are his duets with her.

She was actually the cutest thing. She was smiling the entire time, like she was so happy to be there, and couldn't believe it.

It was so surreal, being surrounded by people who love Adam's music just as much as I do; It was like we were a family, as cheesy as that sounds.

"I left my heart in Columbus!" -Adam Young

After the concert, Kathleen and I got pictures and autographs from Anthony...


And this guy we met outside, Troy Williams, who we met when we were in line. He had us listen to some of his music (which is under the name Escaping Juliet), and it was actually really good! I got his autograph for when he's big and famous!

It was by far the best night of my life. It was so magical, and I can't wait until I get the chance to see him again.

Monday, September 10, 2012

It Gets Better

I was rerouted today after someone decided today was the day to cut his life short and jump off the sixth floor of a building. 
Bukowski wrote, “there is a loneliness in this world so great… people so tired, mutilated either by love or no love” – for the man who jumped today, his invisible agony had reached an unbearable level. I won’t pretend that I knew what this man was going through and I’d like to believe that there is something someone could have done to stop him in that moment, but I can’t be certain there was. 
What I do know, though, is that everything affects everything. Everything you say and do- the way you can hurt the ones you love when you don’t truly mean to, the way you can make someone feel so little by calling them just one word, the way you can set up unreasonable expectations for mere mortals. 
Just be aware of that, everyday be conscious of those around you and how your words and actions can affect someone who may very well already have their mind set on jumping out that open window. Sometimes it takes very few words or a very small gesture to remind someone that there is goodness beyond this hell, that the fight to live is worth it, even if that may be just a temporary fix.
Each of us has not only the power to take a life, but also the power to restore a life.

In honor of Suicide Awareness Day, please know that you are loved and there is hope for you. If you are feeling completely lost in life, just know that things will get better. I know that is a phrase used quite often and when you are at your lowest it is hard to believe it, but please just know that it does. If you are reading this, I promise you now and forever, that I will always be here for you if you need someone to talk to. I can help you get the help you need or be that person you can trust to talk to. Just please promise me you won’t leave this world because it is not your time and you have a long and beautiful life to live still.

Lifeline- Suicide Awareness Day 2012


I don’t look down, not yet. The wind is blowing my hair across my forehead, and my fingers are locked tight around the railing behind me. I shuffle my feet, careful not to step too far; the tips of my toes hang off the ledge. I swallow hard, the lump in my throat making it hard to breathe.

I’ve had the most amazing life. My parents are supportive of everything I do, we’ve got a nice house, I’m good at school, I’ve got everything I could ever want. I’ve been able to do what I love every day of my life, but lately, it just isn’t enough. The pressure is too much. I have to hide my hurt, pain and fears on a daily basis, both from strangers and the people I love.

I’m not strong enough anymore. I can’t keep pretending.

The worst part is, I’ve been so lucky. I have an incredible life, much better than so many other people’s lives, so I can’t complain. No one would understand. They’d see me as self absorbed, conceited, arrogant, all because I’m well off and they don’t understand that I feel pain too.

I’m just so tired of being tired all the time. I never get a moment to myself, and I always have to be wearing a smile and acting happy, or people would say I’m just looking for attention.

I just can’t do this anymore. It’s too much. I wish I could tell my friends that it’s not their fault, make sure my mom knows I love her, tell the world that it’s nothing they could have done, because it’s all my fault.

I hear shrieks below me, and I glance down. I see a woman pointing up towards me, her hand covering her mouth while she screams.

“Call the police!”

“He’s going to jump!”

“What room is he in?”

“Get him down!”

It’s now or never. Jump, or suffer the misery.

The doorman to the hotel is clearing people away from the building; more people are staring and screaming.

The height makes my head spin and I glance back over my shoulder. The doors leading from my hotel room onto the balcony are swung open, the curtains blowing in the breeze.

The hotel phone rings, starling me, and I almost lose my grip on the railing.

I refocus on my mission, and glance down again. Below me is the city street, cement and asphalt, ready to embrace me as I leap to my death.

The door to my hotel room slams open. “Hey, some guys going to jump off- Cole?” My best friend’s voice pierces my trance. My head whips around, and I see Luke standing in the doorway, the door swinging shut behind him. His face is covered in shock and disbelief.

“What are you doing?”

I turn my head back to the street. “Go away,” I mutter.


“Go. Away.” I say, gritting my teeth. Does he not understand that I want to do this?

I hear him take a couple steps closer to me. “Cole… I- I don’t understand.”

I don’t respond. Does anybody ever understand? I’d stopped telling people about my problems a long time ago; they never understood. They always thought I was a moody, hormonal teenager who was overreacting to minor problems.

“Talk to me,” Luke’s voice cracks.

“I can’t do it anymore, Lu,” I say, calling him by his childhood nickname, still facing the street, talking with my mouth to the wind.

“Do what?”

“This! Live! All of it!” I burst out. “It’s too much.”

“Cole, please.” His voice is as raspy as mine. “Please, come back in. Talk to me. Don’t do this,” he steps closer to me, out of the hotel room and onto the balcony.

I blink, my eyes burning, and I can barley breathe. I’ve been planning this for a while, this is my only chance.

“I-I’m sorry, Lu,” I say, and take a step forward, letting go of the railing.

Sunday, September 2, 2012

No Duh

I found this piece of writing online, and I wanted to share it with you all, because we all feel this way sometimes!

This weekend I was told a story which, although I’m kind of ashamed to admit it, because holy crap is it ever obvious, is kind of blowing my mind.
A friend of a friend won a free consultation with Clinton Kelly of What Not To Wear, and she was very excited, because she has a plus-size body, and wanted some tips on how to make the most of her wardrobe in a fashion culture which deliberately puts her body at a disadvantage.
Her first question for him was this: how do celebrities make a plain white t-shirt and a pair of weekend jeans look chic?  She always assumed it was because so many celebrities have, by nature or by design, very slender frames, and because they can afford very expensive clothing.  But when she watched What Not To Wear, she noticed that women of all sizes ended up in cute clothes that really fit their bodies and looked great.  She had tried to apply some guidelines from the show into her own wardrobe, but with only mixed success.  So - what gives?
His answer was that everything you will ever see on a celebrity’s body, including their outfits when they’re out and about and they just get caught by a paparazzo, has been tailored, and the same goes for everything on What Not To Wear.  Jeans, blazers, dresses - everything right down to plain t-shirts and camisoles.  He pointed out that historically, up until the last few generations, the vast majority of people either made their own clothing or had their clothing made by tailors and seamstresses.  You had your clothing made to accommodate the measurements of your individual body, and then you moved the fuck on.  Nothing on the show or in Peoplemagazine is off the rack and unaltered.  He said that what they do is ignore the actual size numbers on the tags, find something that fits an individual’s widest place, and then have it completely altered to fit.  That’s how celebrities have jeans that magically fit them all over, and the rest of us chumps can’t ever find a pair that doesn’t gape here or ride up or slouch down or have about four yards of extra fabric here and there.
I knew that having dresses and blazers altered was probably something they were doing, but to me, having alterations done generally means having my jeans hemmed and then simply living with the fact that I will always be adjusting my clothing while I’m wearing it because I have curves from here to ya-ya, some things don’t fit right, and the world is just unfair that way.  I didn’t think that having everything tailored was something that people did. 
It’s so obvious, I can’t believe I didn’t know this.  But no one ever told me.  I was told about bikini season and dieting and targeting your “problem areas” and avoiding horizontal stripes.  No one told me that Jennifer Aniston is out there wearing a bigger size of Ralph Lauren t-shirt and having it altered to fit her.
I sat there after I was told this story, and I really thought about how hard I have worked not to care about the number or the letter on the tag of my clothes, how hard I have tried to just love my body the way it is, and where I’ve succeeded and failed.  I thought about all the times I’ve stood in a fitting room and stared up at the lights and bit my lip so hard it bled, just to keep myself from crying about how nothing fits the way it’s supposed to. No one told me that it wasn’t supposed to.  I guess I just didn’t know.  I was too busy thinking that I was the one that didn’t fit.
I thought about that, and about all the other girls and women out there whose proportions are “wrong,” who can’t find a good pair of work trousers, who can’t fill a sweater, who feel excluded and freakish and sad and frustrated because they have to go up a size, when really the size doesn’t mean anything and it never, ever did, and this is just another thing thrown in your path to make you feel crappy about yourself.
I thought about all of that, and then I thought that in elementary school, there should be a class for girls where they sit you down and tell you this stuff before you waste years of your life feeling like someone put you together wrong.
So, I have to take that and sit with it for a while.  But in the meantime, I thought perhaps I should post this, because maybe my friend, her friend, and I are the only clueless people who did not realise this, but maybe we’re not.  Maybe some of you have tried to embrace the arbitrary size you are, but still couldn’t find a cute pair of jeans, and didn’t know why.