Just after such a sunny post, of course, I'm writing this one : )
This week, I've been sick. Not bad, just a strewn out head cold and sore throat. No fever. No throw up. Yay : ) Anyway, due to my less than stellar health, I've spent my days sleeping and drinking tons and tons of water and orange-pineapple juice, and my nights, staying awake till 3 since I am no longer tired after sleeping my day away. I had work today, so I was trying to rectify this skewed sleeping situation by going to bed early last night. Suffice it to say, one night turn arounds are not my thing. I spent hours lying in bed, and much less time sleeping. Today, I made a commitment to stay awake (from 5:30 am to 8:30 or 9 pm) so that I'd sleep like the dead tonight. I failed. Did you see that one coming? Yeah, I did too. But I didn't fail too miserably, I took an hour nap around 1 pm, and then another one around 6:30 pm...I think that last one was what killed me. Because now we are at 9:55 pm and I am WIDE awake. woohoo.
So I'm going to tell you all what's been on my mind lately. At the end of last week, at family dinner we started discussing nose piercings...I cannot for the life of me recall why, but we did. And my parents were struggling to see the point of getting such a piercing, and were asking my brother if he had any idea (because all boys in the teenage age should know this?) I believe I surprised them a bit when I said, that if I weren't mormon, I'd have a nose piercing. A diamond sparkly stud to be exact. We then started discussing what we'd be like if we weren't mormon, and I seemed to be the only one at the table who'd seriously thought it out before. So here goes america. (Obvious assumptions aside, such as my not existing or having different parents) This is Carly if she weren't mormon:
I'd have a diamond stud nose piercing (as previously stated). I'd also have hightailed it to Canada or Europe by now (specifically England, France, or Ireland to start). And I'd be an aspiring bar tender in whichever of those countries I ended up in. I'd have a fairly dirty mouth. But mostly for humorous punctuation and frustration. And I probably would have a limited bunch of words that I'd use anyway. I really don't like some of them.
I don't know where I'd be on the cigarettes thing. I'd probably have at least tried smoking. I may or may not have gotten hooked. Hard to tell. But if I had gotten addicted to cigarettes/any drugs, I'd silently hate myself for it. I like to be completely in control of my own mind and self. Giving away that power to cigarettes or drugs would make me angry enough at myself to stop after a while.
I'd have dyed my hair deep red and I'd wear it long or cut it really short. Anything in between drives me a little nuts. I'm assuming I'd be just as lazy non LDS as I am LDS : )
I'd have taken soccer through elementary school and middle. At the beginning it would be because my parents made me. (As many suburban parents when I grew up, did.) But after a while I'd stick with it because I loved it. And at some point, I'd probably realize that I sucked, and I'd stop. Unless I actually found talent there....but it's not likely.
I'd have definitely learned to skateboard. And I'd have played a lot more video games.
I'd have more of an attitude. Be more angry. And have pretty decent pride issues. I have a very stubborn side, and that would have more chance to come out during my growing up years. In regular high school, I'd think that a lot of people were idiots, and I'd have no problem letting them know, because I honestly wouldn't care what they think.
Once I finished high school, I'd get in whatever junk car I owned and just drive east until I got to Boston. Put as many miles between me and that as possible. Then, I'd have to come back. And I'd hate that. Which is why I'd hightail it out of the country not long after.
I'd still love old churches. Singing my heart out. Rainstorms. If I didn't have a big, close family with awesome food, I'd search for it. Mashed potatoes and rolls and stew would melt my heart once I found them. I'd think just as much, but talk less about anything that mattered. I'd stick everything in my writing and guard it with my life. I'd still be a sucker and cry at books and movies, but I may or may not let that side show to other people. Depends on the person I suppose. I'd try to have a stiff outer shell. I'd hate that everyone thought I looked younger than I was. I'd be a bit of a spit-fire. I'd totally wear converse. not pink.
I'd drink a bit, did I mention that? When I was having a hard day, or was out with friends. Oh, and coffee and I would be constant companions.
After I got over myself, I'd decide I wanted to go to college. I'd pay my own way by bartending. Selling my photography and writing. I'd try to get good enough at drawing to sell that on the streets too. I'd know a bit of a handful of languages but not everything of anything but english. Unless I lived in France for long enough. I'd get out of the drug scene if I was in it. Buy a flat or apartment in some city and get into journalism. I'd find a good, studly man and eventually get married; have kids. I'd love kids.
Most of this is fairly well placed speculation. But I am certain of one thing. I'd spend this whole supposed life looking for something. Something that would answer all of my questions when I spent nights by myself looking at stars. Or when I found myself looking out over another ocean. Something that would connect that early morning feeling of 'something's going to happen...today is special' and the perfectly unified feeling of release that would catch me at the end of a well written poem.
I'd walk into churches all my life, the way people stroll into used book stores and coffee shops. Looking for a feeling. More than being quaint or worthy of a picture. More than light streaming in through windows and lighting pews and candle holders. More than sensing the quiet reverence of hundreds of years of sacred saints living and dying, or faintly heard choirs murmuring their latin beauty. I'd spend my whole life searching for complete peace and surety. Knowing that I had a purpose. That it mattered that I was alive. That I was in fact a part of the bigness of the world, all of the parts that weren't made by man.
God willing, I'd find the gospel and have a great conversion story that would change my life forever. If not, I'd live just yearning to feel what I can feel everyday in this blessed life of mine. I'd die searching for assurance of a real God. One who could even love me. Die with a feeling that truth existed out there somewhere, just waiting for me to taste it.
