So much going on in the life of Miss Karoline presently. Sometimes it feels like I am suffocating on toxygen (toxic + oxygen = toxygen). As I continue moving forward with what I know I need to do for my own health as well as Maggie's, I keep discovering there is more and more work to be done. I'm digging through the layers of my earth, and beneath the surface there aren't just four layers, there are layers within the layers, and then the toxygen takes over and I am left breathless. I'm scared, yet excited. I'm overwhelmed, but I know I've been through worse things than this. A wise woman I know, my therapist, advised me to be a broken record to parties who refuse to listen. I think this is a smart move, yet in practice, it doesn't seem to be working; although, rationally I know it has only been less than a week, and sometimes messages aren't clear in such short timeframes. So I keep playing the broken record. Needle skipping on this one scratch. Repetition. Obnoxious in its unrelenting ways, but I know it's what I need to do to keep my sanity. Skip. Skip. Blip. Blip. Hopefully the message will register loud and clear over the next couple weeks, and I can then stop breaking records and start enjoying the music that I know is present in my future.

Self-Statements

I'm going to do my "facts" in installments of tens. These statements should probably not be called facts per se because while some may be facts, some will also be self-perceptions, and then I'm sure some will also end up being observations that others have made in regards to me over the years. I decided that I'll be calling these "facts," "self-statements." I can't think of what else to call them at this time. So until I think of something better or more interesting to call them, self-statements will do.

Here we go:

10 Self-Statements

01. I have four tattoos.
02. I think roadtrips are the BEST way to travel. Either alone or with someone who is good company.
03. I get red, hotface when I am nervous.
04. I do not excel at making small-talk with others.
05. I have a fiercely independent streak.
06. I read about eight books per month, which averages to about two books per week.
07. "Twin Peaks" is my favorite television show of all-time.
08. I crack my knuckles.
09. I have been told I have an annoyingly positive attitude. I have also been told I have an annoyingly cynical way of thinking at times. Combine the two concepts, and I figure I'm an optimistic pragmatist.
10. My father passed away before we ever got a chance to reconcile.

i'd be lying if i said i wasn't scared.

Getting to know you, getting to know all about you.

Several years ago, when I was a regular livejournal post-a-saurus rex-er, I put together a list of 100 facts all about me, so people could learn more about me. The list was compiled for people who were both in my life in-person as well as people who were my intergalactic interwebs buddies. I had learned that people in both realms felt they didn't know a whole lot about me, so the list was compiled to provide a snapshot of sorts into various aspects of my existence. I think I'm going to do another revised/updated list here on my blogger for my readers, friends, family. Largely because I would like people to know more about me, and know that people don't necessarily know all that much about me...well, I guess the basics in regards to my persona. So yeah. Coming soon will be a 100facts post, providing some tidbits and insights into Karoline. Word.

There is vehemence in the aphonic.

Sometimes the words that matter, carry gravity or lackthereof depending on how you look at it, elude me. I allow myself to get mired in weaving words and language when all I need to do is utilize my powers of brevity.

I've recently found that while my linguistic skills are still somewhat muddled, I am able to get down to the roots, my roots, through painting. I am no aficionado, prodigy, or expert, and others who might ever have a chance to see my painterly side, will probably think it's total sh*t, but it's cathartic to me and I find beauty in my lack of skill.

My lack of language. My lack of training. My lack of expertise. Understanding and embracing the awkward of something new again. I haven't taken to canvas in years. I never felt my skills were good enough. I never felt good enough.

The messiness, the abstraction, layers slathered on, then peeled away. Imprints that are there if you look closely and not too critically. I've never considered myself an artist or artistic for that matter, but over the course of this extended roadtrip, I've found that maybe I can release some of what I want to say and scream onto a canvas. The canvas doesn't judge. It just is.

Painting my heart has been a release. A damn good one at that.