Monday, January 25, 2010


I can't explain the state that I'm in.
The state of my heart
he was my best friend.
Into the car, from the back seat,
Oh, admiration in falling asleep.
All of my powers, day after day,
I can tell you, we swaggered and swayed.
Deep in the tower, the prairies below,
I can tell you, the telling gets old.
Terrible sting and terrible storm,
I can tell you the day we were born.
My friend is gone; he ran away.
I can tell you, I love him each day.
Though we have sparred, wrestled, and raged,
I can tell you, I love him each day.
Terrible sting and terrible storm

I can tell you.

Sunday, January 17, 2010


I'm exhausted. It feels like I've had a very busy weekend.
Actually, I have had a very busy weekend.

I've mentioned Carbon Leaf before, but just in case this is the first time you've ever read my blog I'll fill you in. (If you're new you should also take the time to click the little "Follow" button at the top of the page; I know you want to keep up with all of my extremely insightful and witty posts. Okay, back to Carbon Leaf.) Carbon Leaf is awesome. Great music, great lyrics, great instruments, and great great great performers. I strongly encourage you to check them out on iTunes or YouTube; you'll thank me, I promise. So you're thinking, "Okay Taylor, what's the deal with this whole paragraph about Carbon Leaf?" I'll tell you—I saw them in concert at Lincoln Theater on Friday night. That was the beginning of a highlight-filled weekend.

The concert ended at about 12:15AM, but I didn't manage to get out the door until about 10 minutes later (which really makes me wonder if I would be able to escape that venue in the case of an emergency...) so I was in my car by 12:25AM. I was on my way to one of the most wonderful places in the world—Camp WIllow Run. I turned on Nadine (my GPS) and set out for Littleton, NC. Of course, before I left Raleigh and traveled into much weirder areas of the Old North State, I needed to stop for gas.

Words of Wisdom (mostly for the ladies, but men—you could benefit from this too): Gas stations get sketchy after dark. Even if you stop at a very public and well-lit station like the Han-Dee Hugo's on Capital Boulevard, you should probably whip out your cell phone and call someone to talk to while you're pumping gas. I don't know if talking on the phone really aids in warding off potential assailants, but here's my reasoning: if someone were to grab me, I think I could manage to yell out at least a "Help!" before I dropped my phone and started punching and kicking and screaming like crazy. Hopefully the person on the other end of the line would be kind enough to call 911 and tell the police to send backup.

Obviously, I got my gas and am perfectly okay, but I learned a valuable lesson: Creepy people have to buy gas too, and because they are creepy, they probably buy gas after the sun has set. Plan accordingly.

So I get on the road. For real this time.

Driving at night is so much easier than driving during the day. Fewer cars to worry about. Also, my body wakes up around 11:00PM, so I'm much more focused than I would be at say, 9:00AM. And little towns that would take 30 minutes to get through during the day took half the time. I drove up through Rolesville (The Small Town with a Bright Future) and Louisburg singing along to a great variety of music—Chris Brown, Lady Gaga, Carbon Leaf, etc. The music kept me entertained for a while, but once I got through Louisburg I started to get bored. Not tired (that would be dangerous), just bored.

You know Verizon's new commercials that claim "There's a map for that"? Makes it sound like they have coverage everywhere, right? Nope. When I got bored I tried calling several friends, but I was in the middle of Bumfrack, Nowhere, and there was barely any service at all. I was dropping calls like it was my job. For some reason, being out in the middle of nowhere without cell phone service reminded me of that urban legend about the couple that finds a hook caught on the handle of their car. I kept envisioning myself finding a bloody hook attached to my car when I arrived at camp... Sorry, that's gross and disturbing.

I learned another lesson: If you plan on talking on the phone during a long car ride, take a main road—better chance for service.

Talking on the phone was ruled out, so I chose a mix CD, set the cruise control, and started singing along again. And it wasn't long before I saw it. The creepiest thing I saw all night. The possum. Some people think that possums are cute little creatures, but if you check out this video, I think you'll be convinced otherwise.

Convinced? Thought so. The disgusting little possum, let's call him Lester, was waddling right into the path of my car. For a split second I thought that I was going to run over Lester and get his guts all over my car. My cruise control was set. I knew it would be stupid to swerve. I completely froze. And then Lester was gone.

I don't think I ran over him.
There are no guts on my car, but combined with the speed I was traveling and the volume of my music, there's a possibility that I ended little Lester's pitiful possum life in the wee hours of Saturday morning. He was waddling straight into the line of fire.
I guess I'll never know.

Lesson #3: When you see a possum in the road, don't freeze. Hit it. They're gross. (If you think this is an insensitive or morbid statement, I urge you to watch that video one more time. What could be more gross and annoying that that?)

It was an eventful drive to say the least. But I made it in good time. And it was worth every moment.
I'm glad I had the opportunity to go up to Littleton.

Saturday, January 9, 2010


Maybe one day we will just wake up
and know.

And until then we are just meant to dream
about what it is
we should have understood
all along.

Friday, January 1, 2010


Since I'm not in school and can only watch one or two lifetime movies at a time, I've been thinking a lot over the past few days. A dangerous pastime? I know.

I have a journal that I've been sporadically writing in since the summer after my freshman year. At this point, it's a little less than half-full and it contains mostly funny quotes, doodles, and bullet-point summaries of nights out and weekend trips. I looked back through it tonight and was struck by how much I feel like I've changed since I began writing in that little book. I know, I know; I've been thinking a lot about change recently (as evidenced by my last few posts), but I've experienced so much in the last year it's hard not to reflect a bit as 2009 comes to a close and a new decade begins. I've pushed my limits physically, mentally, and emotionally. I've made more mistakes in the past 12 months than I feel like I've made in all the other 232 months I've been alive combined. I've learned and grown and now I have a brand new year to start all over. I have a lot to look forward to, and I'm doing just that—looking forward to it.

It's a New Year's toast, grab your list to conspire;
The last snake hissed as he was thrown in the fire.
You've come far, and though you're far from the end,
You don't mind where you are,
'cause you know where you've been.