g i r l s

With the beginning of the end in sight, I thought it quite fitting to reflect upon one of my favorite television shows of all time, and how it has shaped my life and the person I am becoming everyday. As a 20 something myself, I easily identify with the cast of characters Lena Dunham has created, in a show that makes me feel good and bad and then good (again) about myself in a single, 45 minutes episode. This show is none other than HBO’s Girls .

Where to begin. This show has impacted me in so many ways, I’m actually so grateful Lena Dunham made this dream into a reality. In many ways I am just like each of these girls, and in other ways I am nothing like them. This show was taught me how to be and how not to be. If I had to pick one thing that I am convinced is the most important message of this show, it’s that we are not completely a Marnie, or totally a Shoshanna. We are, as girls, and as humans, a perfect blend of each. Ms. Dunham has done a remarkable job of portraying 4 entirely different personalities that bring out the best and the worst in each other, and through 6 seasons of highs and lows, I have grown to be so much more connected to myself, and the world around me, because of it.

For today, tomorrow, and Sunday, leading up to the season finale Sunday night at 10pm, I will be focusing on each character of Girls, talking about their personalities, their strengths and weaknesses, and ultimately, what we can learn from each of them.

Let’s be honest, I’m trying to make this sound all deep and purposeful, but I’m really just trying to find closure because my life will be so different once Girls is gone from it on Sunday!

Do any of you watch Girls? What are your thoughts on the show? I’d love to have a discussion!

Thanks, lovelies.

Es ist was es ist,

c.w. north

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sunday morning poetry

if ever I would leave you

it wouldn’t be at night

the cool and dark repose

void of love and light

if ever I would leave you

it wouldn’t be at dawn

the rising of the morning

where everything is calm

if ever I would leave you

it wouldn’t travel far

to europe or the ocean

where the waves crash and fall

if ever I would leave you

I wouldn’t stay so close

and see you walk across the street

and pick a red, red rose

if ever I would leave you

I’d hurt me most of all

if ever I would leave you

at all.

© 2017 C.W.North – All rights Reserved

the cure – IV

I am numb. I can’t feel my own hands, which are furiously grasping at my arms, nails biting harshly into my tender skin. I’ve run out of water in my eyes, but now a scream is welling up inside, begging to be let lose. I can’t scream, of course, which makes it all the more painful. My chest burns, throbs, because it cannot free itself from this hurt. Knowing I cannot voice my emotions makes me feel helpless, and as Griffin so plainly put it, worthless.

How could I be so stupid! I was mad at him, but why? Because I find him annoying sometimes? Because he drives me crazy with talk of his big plans and wild dreams? I have no logical reason to be angry with him, yet I am; was. I tell myself I am the only one to blame. I am worthless. I have nothing good to say, so I’ll continue to bite my tongue.

I don’t know what time it is anymore. When Griffin spoke those words to me, I turned without a sound, and left. I did not turn back and I don’t regret it. Now, as I’ve made my way several miles from where we were, I do, however, regret not having said I was sorry; am. I growl. My mind is rebelling. I wish I had a time-piece of some sort. I don’t like not knowing the time. At home, I am looking at the clock every few minutes, willing the day to go by when I can sleep and forget everything and everyone. Night is my great consoler and confidant. I am never truly at peace or at rest until I am wrapped in its dark security.

When I’ve finally let go of my guilt, or part of it, I look up and find myself in an area I on’t recognize. There aren’t any houses, but I can still see the faint outline of our fence in the distance. I find a patch of weed that isn’t too scratchy and plop down upon it, shaded from the grey sky above by a row of sad looking ghosts. I pick at the ground as I begin to think.

I only concentrate when I am utterly and entirely alone. I feel as if anyone were around they could easily read my thoughts. My thoughts are not merely the internal workings of my mind, but expressive in every part of me. My face and body reveal all too much about the way I act, careless and disgruntled. Thoughts are dangerous, but I feel a little more reassured about letting them run wild when I am alone.

As I stare at the white, paper-like coating of the ghosts all around me, I think of Griffin. I start to realize – and this is hard for me to admit – that I may be wrong about him. However hard I try to believe he’s just a distant, unattached person, the more I come to understand that he is most definitely no those things. With the death of his sister and the mentally fragile state of his mother, I see him more and more willing to be open with me about his struggles. Does this frighten me? Yes, very. I don’t like to hear Griffin talk about leaving because it so preposterous. Not that he can’t leave; he can. He could go to the Western Region if he got a passport, and if he properly passed the worker’s transfer paperwork. I don’t like to think if him going because I’d actually miss him. I wish desperately that Griffin could leave and study medicine; find a Cure and fulfill his dream. but it’s impossible. Jumping through the transfer hoops take forever, and most people never gain clearance. He knows it. I know it. Why can’t he accept that leaving is near impossible?

I stare at the fence several yards away and smile. I wonder how easy it would be to burn it to the ground. I think I could overcome my fear for that.

~

When it’s beginning to grow dark, around what I assume is about 6 o’clock, I head back home to Ofelia. I find her knocked out cold on the couch and I’m pretty sure that whatever she was drinking this morning finally hit her. I look around and notice that nothing seems out of the ordinary. The place isn’t messier than usual and the TV, thankfully, isn’t on. I hear my stomach make protest about the absence of food all day and I decide I better find something to calm its nerves. When I wander into the kitchen, I nearly scream.

There is dirt everywhere. All over the counters, the floor, even brown smudges across a few of the cupboards. I step around the piles on the floor that appear to be trying to multiply themselves. I clench my fists and grind my teeth together. “I just cleaned this place yesterday!” I shout. There’s no response from the living room, so I push open the butler door, its squeaking hinges cowering at my ferocity, and stomp over to where Ofelia’s snoozing form lies on the couch.

“What’s with the dirt on my clean floor?” I yell in her face. She doesn’t move an inch, doesn’t even open her eyes, but startles me after a moment’s silence with, “clients.”

I roll my eyes. I’m not putting up with this.

“I’ve had quite the day today, so I’d appreciate your cooperation!” I feel tears welling in my eyes but I scowl to hind them. Why am I so emotional today? The moon must not be in my favor this cycle.

“Have you? Well, so have I,” Ofelia taunts back.

“The dirt?”

“Clients, I already told you.”

I lose it. “What were you doing with dirt in the kitchen!?”

Ofelia rolls over and sighs. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you can clean it up fairly quickly.”

That’s when I plop down on the floor, face in my hands and sigh. “Griffin’s mother’s insane,” is all I manage.

“You didn’t know that?” Ofelia rolls back over.

I look up and the face Ofelia glances at me with tells me she seriously can’t believe I didn’t know sooner. I pull myself up, walk out of the room. Running up the stairs and down the hall,  I come to my room and slam the door, done with the world for right now. Finally, I let sleep take me away, food to ease my hunger no longer my biggest priority.


© 2017 C.W.North – All rights Reserved

losing my best friend

Summers eve and all was well with the world

you were filled with laughter, your smile was a light;

you thought I was special, and thought I was kind

I never felt better than stood by your side.

We shared so many memories and moments;

I cherished them all, they were delicate, small.

I held all my hopes like butterflies in my hands;

you were a hope I had rested upon.

“We’ll always be friends, forever and ever

not even oceans can separate us.”

“I promise it back,” I’d said so assured.

“I’ll always be there for you, no matter the cost.”

The promises spoken were true for a while

through Christmas to birthday to Christmas again.

Then one day we travelled to places so new

and time together became wishes for time apart.

You didn’t like this thing I did;

that thing that you never saw before.

Uptight and tense, I did not like your tone

of how you would say “no time, let’s go.”

7 hours home and you were so quiet

you did not like the sound of my voice.

I did not make you laugh, I was no longer funny;

my smile, I did not get one back.

And now we were home and you said goodbye,

to your family you must see.

I said “talk later” but later did not come

I did not see you again for several weeks.

We went out to lunch, I made the same jokes

I had always made around you.

But instead of smiles and laughs I’d receive

a cold and unwelcoming sigh.

I did not have fun around you anymore,

you always had something to say of my ways.

All the food I ate, funny, the drinks I’d make, gross

and my clothes were distasteful and plain.

I stopped saying hi to you from that day on

and I stopped playing cool when you’d mock me.

I stopped being nice and asking you out

I stopped making jokes to be funny.

I stopped writing letters, I stopped making calls,

I stopped coming by in the morning.

I stopped all the likes and the comments online,

and I stopped saying your name out in public.

And all that time I thought all I did

would make an impression, to cause you to think.

Then I find out, in the cruelest of ways,

your true feelings about me this time.

You never noticed when I said hi

and you never noticed my silence.

You always had an excuse in your pocket

in case I would ask you out.

You didn’t think life was all that too funny

unless you were laughing at someone’s expense.

You tossed all my letters,

you “missed” all my calls,

because you were too busy to talk in the morning.

You never saw all my likes or my comments

because you deleted the apps on your phone

“time is to precious to waste it online”

and therefore disregarded my profession.

And though I am hurt, I am not all alone

you were not my only succession.

I have many friends who actually like me

and care about my reputation.

And if you’ll allow me to say a few things

I really must let you know

that your Michael Kors and your Dior foundation

can’t fill the void in your soul.

No matter the cost of your blonde balayage

or the Tiffany ring on your finger,

no matter how often your mommy and daddy

tell you they love who you are,

if you can’t be good to the people around you,

unless you get something you want,

you’ll always be searching for the next best thing

and darling, it never will come.

Now that I’m gone and away from your life

You’ll never know if I miss you

and because of the person that you’ve become

you’ll always assume that I do.

The truth is I don’t think about you at all

except to sigh sadly and say,

“I wish that my best friend would find out a way

to be happy without being cruel.”

I’m sorry I wouldn’t be mean to others

just to make you laugh.

I’m sorry I didn’t compliment

that 300 dollar purse you bought.

I’m sorry you don’t like the person I am

or what I am doing with my life

but the point is it’s my life and none of your business

so please step out of the way.

If you decide that people mean more

than the material things that you own

I promise I’ll be waiting to hear you say

you’re sorry for being that way.

But because I know you as well as myself,

I know that day will not come

because unfortunately I have seen

the way you have done this before.

You assume it’s the world that needs to say sorry

for stepping on your toes

but the world doesn’t care if it messes your hair

or if mommy and daddy say “no.”

I hope you remember the good things in life

when you think back on this time

instead of regret for wasting your time

by not making friendships that last.

Your boss won’t care if you’re at her wedding

and she won’t text you once you quit.

If that’s the friendship you think will last

then I hope it’s a perfect fit.

Goodbye to the memories I thought that we shared

you burned them so long ago

Goodbye to the person I thought that I knew

you were before you decide to grow,

to grow up into someone who had no time

for fun or laughter or smiles

who thinks that happiness can be bought

down the Chanel perfume isle.

I’m sorry to say that I won’t be waiting

holding my breath for you to come back.

I won’t beg you to keep me

because did you know?

Your opinion doesn’t define my worth.

Your opinion doesn’t define my worth.

Your opinion doesn’t define my worth.


 

© 2017 C.W.North – All rights Reserved

sunday morning poetry

hushed, whispering tenderness

the morning air calls to the dead

in their sleep they rise

sunshine is ablaze with new life.

read the story of the dawn

hear the silence in her veins

as she reaches down to caress

away your worries and your pain.

you are like a newborn child

every time you feel the wild

calling to your ancient soul

“come out and see the world unfold.”

light footed you fly

reaching for the crest

of the mountains around you

as you sip the salty sea.

you are at peace.


© 2017 C.W.North – All rights Reserved

a n g e l s

I think I met an angel today. The sweetest little old lady came up to me at my desk after I mentioned she looked so patriotic dressed in her red, white, and blue. She said “well that’s the point. Our motto is patriotism, preservation, and education.”  She then goes on to tell me about her committee, and how they are all descendants of those who were part of the american revolution. “That’s the only deciding factor on whether you can join or not,” she tells me.

This woman’s patriotism was inspiring. To me, being patriotic means loving your country no matter what. For someone like myself living in the United States, that is hard. I don’t know what the rest of the world really thinks of us, but I imagine that they see us going through some scary shit and want nothing to do with it. That’s why I cling to my German heritage so strongly. I don’t want to be American. I’m not American, I’m German, I was just born in America. Sorry, sweets. If you were born in America, guess what? You’re American. I did not like this.

At the end of the day, it comes down to the kind of person you are. There are shitty people who live in Europe, and there kind people who live in America. Where you are born does not define the kind of person you are. Each and every person should be judged according to their character and nothing more. I’m done being ashamed of where I’m from, because *cliche phrase drumroll please* it’s what’s inside that counts.

That little old lady taught me that just by giving me a 10 minute history lesson on George Washington and the American Revolution. Her passion is inspiring. I’m going to start talking about the things I love with more passion. There is no reason to be ashamed of who you are, where you come from, or what you believe. Remember that.

I hope today blesses you.

es ist was es ist,

c.w.

rain + empty hours

It’s raining today.

I’m currently at work and it is very slow. It’s always slow though, really. Except sometimes in the mornings on Tuesdays after I’ve had my weekend off. The one thing about Sundays and Mondays being my weekend is that when I come back to the office on Tuesdays, I have lots of work piled up and emails to answer and voicemails to return because everyone else already worked on Monday, catching up from their weekend. But the amount of work I have to “catch up” on is never more than can be completed in one day. Unfortunately, this means the rest of my week usually drags.

I do like my job. I worked in food service for 4 years and was super sick of that, and how early I had to get up or how late I’d get off. I perform in theatre as a hobby, and it was really hard to juggle that and the jobs I held. So one day I woke up and was like, “what am I doing? I’m not in school anymore, there is no reason I have to be doing this!” I promptly quit my job an found a new one. A real job. A desk job. *oh the glamour*

Things I like about my job:

  1. I don’t have to get up earlier than 7am or stay later than 6pm.
  2. The work isn’t hard. I can do it easily.
  3. It’s close to my home so the commute isn’t really…well, a commute. It’s only 5-10min, depending on the traffic.
  4. I get an hour lunch. That’s twice as long as my old job, and ten times as long as my job before that!

Things I don’t like about my job:

  1. I work with my ex-best friend (it’s a nightmare.)
  2. I don’t get paid enough to live *comfortably*.
  3. I sit at a desk all day, so butt fat is a real thing.
  4. The management is insane, gossipy, and all have their own personal agendas. Ew.
  5. The place I work is, well…elitist. The last thing I am is elitist. Not a good match.

Yeah, so at the end of the day, work is work. I wish I didn’t have to do it but we all have to. It’s not something you can escape. Except maybe if you’re born into a super dirty rich family and you have an allowance of like 100,000 dollars a month. But even then, someone had to earn that money, am I right?

What do I wish I was doing for a living? You know, I haven’t figured that out yet. I have too many hobbies and pastimes, but nothing that really strikes me to the core and whispers “yes, this is my calling.” I don’t think I have a calling other than to make people laugh and help them feel less alone. That’s what I’m here to do. If you need anything, anything at all, drop me a line and I promise to listen and love.

es ist was es ist,

c.w.