My Apology

Dear Reader, 

If you are reading this, you're probably someone who reads my posts fairly regularly. And in that case, I owe you an apology. The past month has been a whirlwind. I'm not going to make excuses or try to explain the roller coaster that has become my life. I'm just going to express how sorry I am and promise that I will post more in 2015. Even if it's a little check in, some words of advice, or even what song I've been obsessed with as of late.* My goal is to post at least twice a month for the upcoming year, and you're more than welcome to keep me accountable. 

Thank you so much for caring about me enough to read what I put on here. It means more than y'all know. 

Much love, 

CRC

*Look up Louisa Wendorff (won't be hard with all of the publicity she's been getting recently) and listen to her Magic/Adore You (Coldplay/Miley Cyrus) mash up cover. It's been on repeat.

Thanks Giving

I've always known that I've lead a pretty lucky life. One with a plethora of opportunities, loving friends and family, and so much more. I've had my share of lows, times of struggle, and shed more tears than I can count. But I've ALWAYS had something to be thankful for.

I've been lucky enough to have a roof over my head. To have food to eat, and clean water. To have clothes to keep me warm, and a bed to sleep on. My basic needs have always been met; I am truly thankful for that.

People often give thanks for the good things in their lives, but rarely take the time to give thanks for the bad.

I am thankful for every time I've felt hopeless. I'm thankful for each and every physical scar. I'm thankful for every time I cried because the sadness I felt couldn't be contained. I'm thankful for every time I've been rejected. I'm thankful for all the times I looked in the mirror and believed every bad comment that has been said about me.

Why am I thankful for all of these lows? Because each time I struggled in life, it made me stronger.

And for that, I could not give enough thanks.

You're Worth It

Every morning before work, I watch videos on youtube while I do my make up. It's the easiest way for me to keep up with the youtube world. Friday morning was same a usual. I saw that Cimorelli had a new song up and clicked on it ready to listen to another catchy pop tune. What I got was this amazingly moving song about self worth that captivated me and put tears in my eyes. The raw emotions and encouraging lyrics made me want to share it with as many people as possible. 

If you know me at all, you probably know that I've struggled with body image and self worth since before I can remember. I've never been close to any definition of skinny, and was convinced by society and peers that I was worthless. My closest friends have seen a change within me over the last year or so when it comes to my self confidence. I have grown to love myself and my body. It's not perfect, and neither am I, but I have learned to embrace the imperfections and stop letting it define me. Because even with my scars and flaws, I am worth it. 

You Think of a Wonderful Thought

Any Happy Little Thought?

I wish all you needed to fly away to Neverland was a happy thought. It's that dang pixie dust that puts a wrench in the plans. If it wasn't so hard to get my hands on, you bet your ass I'd be well on my way to the place where you never grow up. 

Being an adult sucks. No one ever truly tells you that. 

In the past month, I have been put through the ringer. I threw out my back, which is still recovering. I broke my toe, which still hurts. I found an amazing guy that I get along with, who turned out to be in love with his best friend. I got a raise at work, but also got handed a shitload more of responsibility. I discovered termites in my room, which means I have given a whole new meaning to the term "living room." And this morning, I managed to find dirt in the bathtub because our drain decided to have a party last night. 

And after all of this, I have come to the conclusion that Peter was definitely onto something because being a grown up fucking sucks. 

(I guess I should add a disclaimer. I KNOW that I have a good life and that I should be thankful for the roof over my head, the food in my fridge, and the job that I have. And I am NOT saying that my life is horrible or that I have it worse than the next person. I am simply venting to the universe. But if anyone manages to come across some of that pixie dust, PLEASE send it my way.)

10 Books That Have Stayed With You In Some Way

• Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
• "What are men to rocks and mountains?" There are three books I read annually, this is the first. I discover new things and experience new feelings with each read. 
• The Oresteia by Aeschylus
• This is the second book I read at least once a year. This trilogy reads like poetry. I have a hard time reading it silently to myself: it seems like a disservice not to read it aloud. I'm also slightly obsessed with Clytemnestra's story.
• Winnie The Pooh by A.A. Milne
• The third annual read is Pooh bear. My love for this book is partially a tie to my childhood, and partially the way it reads like a new story every time. Each time I read this book, something different happens. Rabbit seems a little more annoyed, or Eeyore seems a little happier (despite what most people say).
• The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein
• I'm not sure I can explain my reasons for loving this book, but I do.
• A Photo For Glen by Lindy Lavender
• I might be slightly biased, but I LOVE this little novella. The characters are relatable, and you find yourself caring what happens to them. I catch myself longing to reread it every now and then. 
• Up and Down on the Merry-Go-Round by Bill Martin Jr.
• Almost every night before bed, my dad would find this book and read it to me. There's one quote that I still am bewildered by, "galloping through the mirrored sky, strings of stars are whirling by."
• One Day by David Nicholls
• I loved this book, until I got to a certain chapter. I have never shut a book and threw it across the room until this one. I was so angry with how the author dealt with a major incident, and it was hard to finish the book because I was so mad. 
• Ella Minnow Pea by Mark Dunn
• I would highly recommend this book to just about anyone. Because it is written through letters, it immerses you in the characters' lives and takes you through their struggle of losing their ability to communicate through spoken and written language. 
• Angels in America by Tony Kushner
• "He set the word 'free' to a note so high nobody can reach it. That was deliberate." This book was the first book that truly opened my eyes to the world around me. 
• The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemmingway
• I'm not a Hemmingway fan...not in the slightest. However, this book captivated me. I'm not sure why, but it did.

"When did you last cry in front of someone else?"

I'm not someone who easily cries. It doesn't matter if it's a physical pain, emotional pain, or even happiness, tears just don't come that easily. I have to be extremely passionate, emotional, or happy in order to get those tears flowing.

Luckily, the last time I cried was a happy experience. It was at Disneyland, with an audience of strangers. 

A little back story: I make it a point to experience something new every time I go to Disneyland. Because I go so often, it's easy to fall into a set routine...but what's the fun in experiencing the same thing every time you go? In my opinion, it takes some of the magic away. 

I had never seen the new Frozen float before the parade, so I stopped to watch it. It was nothing special, just Elsa and Anna waving while an instrumental version of "Let it Go" played on the loudspeakers. Yet, for some reason, this wave of happiness came over me. I realized that at this very moment, Disney was literally making dreams come true for so many children. Even with an overrated float, magic was being created. 

I couldn't help but smile as tears started to stream down my face.

Vague To The Highest Factor

I had forgotten what the butterflies felt like, and he brought them back.

"...the chaos is all so beautiful."

Okay, so within the past week, my (work) life has turned upside down. My co-teacher was offered a full time teaching job at another school. She has been waiting for an opportunity like this for years, so of course she accepted the position. This left me conflicted. Of course I was excited for her, for she truly deserves her own kindergarten classroom. But I was also sad, and nervous. Not only was I losing someone I work incredibly well with, but I was now going to take the lead in the classroom. 

Here's how my classroom worked: every first and third week of the month, my co-teacher would plan, prep, and execute lesson plans in the classroom, while I assisted. And every second and fourth week, I would lead and she would assist. This makes it so the work and teaching time is divided equally between the teachers. That being said, my co-teacher has been working at my preschool for three years, so it's only natural that it felt like her classroom, and I was more of a second teacher. Her leaving meant that I now had to takeover the head teacher responsibilities. 

Today was the first day without her. On top of that, we had new students that moved up from younger classrooms. So, to say it was stressful and chaotic would be an understatement. That being said, I got through the day with a smile on my face (and every kid accounted for). And at the end of the day, I received positive notes from parents, students, and the administrative staff. 

Although she will be missed, her leaving forced me to step up and take the reigns. It's amazing how chaos can bring out the strength you never knew you had. 

Poignant

The way we were taught how to spell in high school was anything but effective. We were given a list every week, and were expected to memorize each word on it and the accompanied definition. Only to relay it onto a test that was worth an insignificant percent of our overall grade in the class. Most of the time, those new words were forgotten the minute I turned in my test. I'm not sure why, but ever since "poignant" presented itself on our list, it was one I could not forget. Amongst the monotonous clusters of spelling words, this one stood out.

Perhaps it's because the sound of the word itself almost evokes the emotions it's supposed to portray. Instead of smoothly rolling off the tongue, there's a sharp stop in the middle of the word. In my mind, that sudden halt represents the sudden surge of pain and sadness. There's something so hauntingly beautiful about it that captivated me.

Despite the fact that this word is supposed to recall forlorn feelings, it has become a favorite amongst my vocabulary. 

Big Things Come in Threes

Well, dang. It's been a while since I've posted. I kept telling myself that I would post after something big happened. Well, over the past month, I have gained a roommate, moved apartments, and went home for a week. I'm pretty sure those all qualify as something "big" in my life, but for some reason I wasn't compelled to write about any of it until now. Maybe everything needed to settle a little before I could figure out how I felt about everything.

New roommate: Cassie and I met through a mutual friend in college. Eventually, she joined the sorority, which is where she and I became good friends. Even through her year abroad and even with my graduating, we stayed close. It wasn't until a few months ago, when she got an interview for a great company, did we ever imagine living together. Cassie moved down before we had an apartment, so I did what any good friend would do, offer to let her stay in our apartment...in my room. Nothing tests a friendship more than sharing a bed for two weeks.

New apartment: Cassie, being the amazing friend that she is, decided that instead of living on her own and close to her job, she would rather commute and live with me. We searched for quite some time before falling in love with an apartment complex less than a mile from my place of work. Man, oh man. I'm not sure we would have pursued this place if we knew how many rings we would have to jump through. Nevertheless, between all of the paperwork and back-and-forth with the manager, we got it and moved in this past week. To say that I love our new apartment would almost be an understatement. My room has this HUGE window, which opens everything up. We have a balcony that Alfie (my plant) is happily soaking up the sun on, and our kitchen is basically perfect. There is storage galore, and the apartment is air conditioned!!! I know this is the honeymoon stage, and I'll probably find something I don't like, but for now, I'm enjoying my bliss.

Going home: A week before we moved in, I had a week off of work for summer, and decided to fly home to see my parents. Aside from all of the drama from the apartment that I was dealing with, it was a good trip home. It was nice to see my parents and visit with old friends. I was able to go to my two favorite coastal restaurants, go shopping, and relax for the first time in a long time. My last day there, I ran into some good friends who I hadn't seen in over a year. They kept commenting on how happy and great I looked. Even my mom texted me, after I got through security in SFO, saying that I seemed happy. It was such a great feeling to know that my happiness shows.

I can't even begin to express how happy I have been in Los Angeles. I have my bad days. I have dating/relationship issues. I get frustrated with friends. I miss my family. I complain about work and the heat. Yet at the end of the day, I am happier here than I have ever been anywhere else.

Too Good to be True

I have this complex where when things are going absurdly well for me, I start looking for problems. I start second-guessing everything and over-analyzing ever detail, wondering when it's all going to come crashing down. I think a part of this complex comes from knowing that you can't live life on a plateau. Life is a constant roller coaster of ups and downs, with occasional stops to enjoy the view. So, when I've been enjoying the view for longer than what seems normal, I brace myself... waiting for the next big turn. 

With the new job, and everything else going so well for me, I've been bracing myself for a while. And let me tell you, I'm glad I was ready for what lay ahead. Without going into too much detail, the job had some hiccups this week... big enough hiccups to have me stressed and worried about going back on Monday. Not to mention, I stayed home on Friday due to a fairly bad case of strep throat, which I am still recovering from. 

Yes, this past week has been complete shit. And yes, I have broken down more times this week than I have in a long time. But if I'm being completely honest, I think this is a set of turns that I can handle. 

Quirks

I was recently with someone who said they wanted to fix me. They would say that if they could get rid of all my problems they would. I suppose it's a sweet thing to say; to be able to rid someone of any issues they may have... but I was left hurt and offended.

I have a lot of... let's call them quirks. Between my trust issues and my inability to communicate my feelings, I can see why someone might see me as broken.

But I love me. All of me. I like my scars (physical and emotional) and I wouldn't change them for the world. Yes, it might make relationships or friendships a bit harder for me, but I wouldn't be me without these quirks.

I guess all I'm trying to say is that if you truly love someone, you wouldn't want to fix them. You would love all of them, and all of their quirks.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes...

Every few months, I like to switch things up on myself. Sometimes it's moving to Southern California, sometimes it's quitting my jobs. I think I get bored with the same thing day after day. I get stir crazy, and feel the need for change. 

Keep your socks on, everyone, I am not moving again (at least not for a while). But I did leave my jobs. A few weeks ago, I decided that I needed something more full-time. It's been on my mind for months, and I no longer felt like I could ignore it. I put in my two-weeks notice and began searching for something new. Luckily enough, I found it. 

A preschool in the neighborhood called to set up an interview. When I went, it was like I had found home. The directer was wonderful, and everyone I met was so friendly. When we got around to the questions, I was nervous, but it felt less like an interview and more like talking amongst friends. I left with a good feeling about it. Three hours later, she called me to offer me the job! 

It's a bittersweet experience, for I will dearly miss the kids I've worked with this past year. Some of the goodbyes were terribly hard, but I pinky promised to go back and visit from time to time. And as most of you know, those promises are sacred. 

Clap along if you feel...

I was lucky enough to have a visit from my mamma this week. We spent almost four days relaxing and catching up in Newport Beach. Between all of the shopping, eating, and drinking, there was surprisingly little time for spats, and more time for legitimate conversation. 

To give y'all a little background on the dynamic between me and my mother, I have to explain a little about our personalities first. We are very similar people, yet extremely different. She is a leo, I am a taurus; and while I am not one to buy into zodiac signs, there is something to it when it comes to our relationship. As a leo, she is headstrong, dominating, energetic, and straightforward. And as a taurus, I am equally stubborn, persistent, independent, and generous. Put the two of us in a room, and we can become the life of the party. But when things start to go wrong, they become disastrous. 

So, to say that we got through the entire get-a-way without tears, fighting, and very few backhanded comments, is a huge success. 

While we sat, waiting for our food, in a posh restaurant where my Forever 21 outfit seemed like dirt next to the amount of Prada and Chanel that accompanied the women sitting next to us, my mother and I bonded. Our conversation began with lighthearted jokes and small talk about the nice weather, but it slowly turned into something more serious. My mother made a comment that surprised us both, "You seem happy." I think she was surprised that I wasn't more homesick and that I could be doing so well living in southern California on my own. And I was surprised that she noticed the difference. 

Last year, when I was living at home, I found myself constantly depressed and in dire need of change. This year, after moving to LA, I have become a much happier person. I can't exactly put my finger on it. Perhaps it's the continuous sunshine, or the fact that I am living with my best friend. Or maybe it's because I am on my own, not being financially supported by my parents. There are a million and one reasons that could explain the change in my mental state, but the bottom line is:

I am happy.

When All is Done

I came across an article that had a list of "thought provoking questions" to ask yourself. The one that stuck out to me the most was:

What would people say about you at your funeral?

As weird and morbid as this sounds, I think about this subject quite a lot. I have this image in my head of what my funeral will look like. And to start, it doesn't look anything like your run-of-the-mill funeral. I see colors and patterns, for no one should be wearing black. I hear live jazz music and upbeat rhythms, for there should be no solemn tunes. I see smiles instead of tears, I hear laughter instead of sobs. I want people to celebrate my life, rather than mourn my death.

I feel like that this is an accurate representation of who I am. I am not a sad, pessimistic person who lives their life in black and white. I would hope that the stories and speeches illustrate a happy, fun-loving, colorful person. I don't need to be remembered by all, but if I can manage to make a difference in a handful of lives, I would say that I lived my life well. 

Bang Bang Bangity Bang...

I debated writing this blog post for a while. It's extremely personal, and not something you tend to share with strangers. But I've never let that stop me before, so here goes:

You may or may not know that up until recently, I was a virgin. According to my own definition, losing my virginity meant sexual intercourse (or to dumb it down for you: penis in vagina). Now, to preface this, I am fully aware of the fact that "virginity" is nothing but a social construct and that each person defines their own definition of what that word means. As a heterosexual female, who, up until the last three years had little to no experience with the opposite sex, this definition hasn't changed much. That being said, I am not ignorant to the fact that someone of a different sex, gender or sexual identity, will have a different way to define "virginity."

I wouldn't say I am an expert on the matter, nor anywhere close, but I have gathered a good amount of knowledge on the subject of sex. Like most stories, it starts with an awkward sex-ed class in elementary school meant to educate us of the male and female anatomy. And then there's the even more awkward high school classes where your teacher tries to scare you with pictures of STIs, or a former nun informs you that even abstinence isn't 100% effective (you can never forget Mary). But it wasn't until college that I felt comfortable enough with myself to really learn more about sex. Between conversations with my friends, watching youtubers like Laci Green, and reading articles, I seem to have gathered quite a bit of information.

That being said, after hearing horror stories from different people, my expectations were extremely low. I was imagining awkwardness or excruciating pain. But the truth is, my first time was wonderful. I felt safe, relaxed, and I was having fun. It made me thankful that I waited for a time where I felt comfortable. And it's almost liberating to no longer be tied to the stigma that goes along with being a virgin. 


But in all seriousness, ...I said a bang bang bangity bang. 

My Life (according to How I Met Your Mother)

Without realizing or even trying to, I have become Ted's dream girl:

"Ted's perfect woman is described as someone who likes dogs, drinks Scotch, and can quote obscure lines from Ghostbusters."

1. I've always been a dog person. Growing up, there was never a time we didn't have at least one dog around. My dream, as a young girl, was to have five dogs when I was an adult and had a place of my own. Even now, I look into the future and see myself owning a dog, no matter where I am or what I'm doing.
2. I will admit, I didn't start out as someone who could drink scotch. And to this day, I much prefer bourbon whiskey to scotch. There's nothing that compares to the smooth taste of Jack Daniels. 
3. "RAY, when someone asks you if you're a god, you say YES!!" Ghostbusters has, and always will be considered a classic. 

As you can see, I fit the odd criteria on Ted's list...

...or maybe I've just become Robin Scherbatsky.

Guilty Pleasure

guilt·y pleas·ure

noun

"Something, such as a movie, television program, or piece of music, that one enjoys despite feeling that it is not generally held in high regard."

Everyone has a guilty pleasure. Most people have more than one. A guilty pleasure isn't a secret that you share with someone lightly. It's one of those topics where a friendship needs to be established so you know that the other person won't judge you as much as a stranger would. You start slow, maybe sharing your weakness for chocolate and working your way up to your love for Robin Thicke's "Blurred Lines." But it takes a special kind of friend to handle my guiltiest pleasure of all. 

My name is Camille Cohen and I love Hannah Montana.

Yes, you read that right. I'm talking about Hannah Montana, the television show on Disney created for kids. I am fully aware that the humor was written to reach the minds of children who are in second grade, and the acting is atrocious, but there is something about this show that warms my heart and makes me smile. It never fails to put me in a good mood.

Let the judgement begin. 

(Oh, and in case you were wondering: yes, my closest friends are aware of this secret and yes, they do still judge me immensely.)

Meet Lucey

Windows down.

Music blaring.

Foot on the gas pedal.

Lucey almost succeeded in the attempt to escape…

“License and registration, please.”

The officer tapped his index finger on the rim of the window as she struggled with the latch on the glove box in her 1997 VW bug. “This damn thing always gets stuck,” she nervously chuckled. She could tell he was irritated. 

“Do you have any idea how fast you were going, Missy,” he snarled as he snatched the paperwork from her hand.

Wondering if she should play dumb, she stalled, “Umm…”

Without allowing her time to decide, he spoke again, “I clocked you going 28 over the speed limit.” Without so much as a pause, he handed her the ticket and her paperwork and headed back to his pathetic excuse for a motorcycle.

“SHIT!” Lucey shouted as she threw the papers onto the passenger seat.  “Shit. Shit. Shit.” With each word of profanity, she pounded her hands rhythmically on the steering wheel.

As tears started to fill her eyes, she thought back to earlier that morning. She was running late as usual and her hair was refusing to cooperate. The outcome was a messy side braid that always resulted in her looking 15. Without giving the clock a second glance, she gathered the rest of her scattered clothes from the ground and tiptoed into the bathroom to get dressed. As she tried to start her car, she found herself questioning if her boss would notice that she was wearing the same clothes she had on yesterday.

Lucey was startled out of her daydream when she heard a horn from the officer. She wiped her eyes as she glanced over and found him smiling and waving as he set off for his next victim. With her car still off and spirits down, she picked up her phone and decided to call her mom. As it rang, she anxiously picked at her nails and contemplated what she would say if someone picked up. In this kind of situation, a simple “hello” wouldn’t quite cut it. Lucey hadn’t spoken to her mom in over 6 months; ever since she left home and got a job as a waitress instead of pursuing the career her mom had chose for her.

“Hello?” Lucey froze. The sound of her mother’s voice was paralyzing.

“I lost my job,” sputtered Lucey before bursting into tears. As she sobbed, she continued, “Actually, I got fired. And a cop pulled me over for speeding.” Lucey sniffled, trying to compose herself as she waited for her mom to respond.

“I don’t know what you expect me to say, Luce.” The cold harsh tone of her mother’s voice was one she was not used to, although not exactly surprised to hear.

As her bottom lip began to quiver, Lucey muttered, “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I called.”  

(I like to consider myself a writer at times and I start projects, but rarely finish them. This was a snippet I wrote when I was considering moving down to LA and wasn't sure how my mom would respond. Obviously the main character is depicted as a version of myself. Anyway, with the little time I've had to post on this blog, I thought a glimpse into something personal would be a treat for y'all. Let me know what you think...or don't. Either way, I promise you'll hear from me soon.)

A New Year

In the year of 2013, something amazing happened. In the first few months, Kelsey and I would joke about us living together. We would laugh at how preposterous of an idea it was; both of us living in Los Angeles. Fast forward a few months, skip over the fears I faced, and we get to now…

I am starting the year of 2014 as Kelsey’s roommate, living in Los Angeles. I am on my own financially for the first time in my life. My parents and I continue to have a good relationship. I’m dating. And I’m enjoying my life.

Of course, with every new year, we make resolutions. Every year prior, I would make lists of things I wanted to do that year or things I wanted to change. More often then not, these resolutions never saw spring. However, this year, I am trying something new: SLUT. Stop, Look, Understand, and Take in. (Yes, I am fully aware of how silly it sounds considering the acronym… but hey, at least I won’t forget it!) This could be applied to just about any aspect of my life, whether it’s taking the time to reevaluate the contents of my grocery basket, or simply stopping to appreciate the sunset on my walk home from work. Perhaps in this new year, with a new way of thinking, this resolution will make it to the end.

So, here's to a new year and taking the time to SLUT it up! *clink*