I'm doing what I think I ought with resources that are fewer than naught.

international mindset. 

Note: Please forgive the tardiness of this post, as it was meant for August 2016.

Do music artists ever know the name of a song before it’s written?

I knew what I wanted the title of this blog post to be before I crafted the first sentence. My life has recently been immersed (much more than usual) in the awareness of different cultures, that I couldn’t possibly overlook the effects on my mindset.

The Olympics have clearly influenced me in this regard, but I’ve also been in Ohio at a conference for libraries all over the world, and because of that, have been interacting with individuals from various backgrounds and cultures. I love it. This has spurred me into thinking about my study abroad experiences and my friends who currently reside outside the U.S. It’s so easy to become wrapped up in our lives, our towns, and our people, but at the same time, it doesn’t take much to break from that mold.

I’ve written about my appreciation for the opinions of others on a couple occasions, but I sometimes forget about how much just being around different people can affect our choices and what we notice in ourselves.

I love that.

Being kept on my toes is my favorite way to live. Sure, knowing my comfort zone is wonderful when the world is going berserk around me, but I wouldn’t know what my comfort zone was for, or what it even extended to if it wasn’t for those who prod it.

What I’m inarticulately attempting to explain is, while the Olympics are a great time to be cognizant of the rest of the world, every four years (or two, if you think about the winter games!) is a paltry effort. We should be a little more ambitious in our tries to both accept others and be excited about their presence in our lives.

Until next time or not, I’m still Cait.


not perfect.

I don’t really listen to podcasts, though the episodes I have tuned into have been pretty okay. I feel the same way about TV. I just can’t seem to find anything that truly pulls me in, not regularly or often anyways.

However, I was listening to the podcast Millennial the other day, and I heard something interesting. The podcast (at least the first 6 episodes or so) are about being a young adult with a college degree, no plan, and a lot a nerves about the decisions you’re making.

Basically it sums up my current state of mind. So that’s cool.

There was a concept Megan, or rather her friend, touched on that really resonated with me. It was about the dreams we have, and the way we picture ourselves executing those dreams. In our minds, our dreams are perfection. We don’t typically take reality into account, and that’s okay. They’re dreams, sheesh calm down. However, when your fear of reality keeps you from pursuing your dream, that’s no bueno.You have to accept that the picture in your mind is never going to be exactly what you want it to be. It’s a very deliberate process. You have to confront your fear of inadequacy and just be vulnerable and do the thing!

How does this relate to me?

Writing, or rather, being a “writer,” is a dream of mine. One problem I have is when it comes to sharing what I write. It really scares me!

There I said it. Now you and my mom are the two people who know.

How silly is that? I love to write, but don’t want to share my stories. Well, that kind of defeats the point of writing. I blame journaling. I love to write about my thoughts, feelings, and life events. It really helps me sort my brain out when I can see everything in front of me. But journaling is completely personal. I would never want to share my candid thoughts in the way they’re recorded in my journal. No way. But I’ve been journaling since I could write, and the secrecy that surrounds journaling has seeped into my “normal” writing as well. I’m afraid to share my perspective or creation with people because it’s such a foreign concept to me!

However, if I’m ever going to pursue what I’ve consistently loved since…well since I held a pencil, I’m going to have to move past the fact that 1) my writing is never going to be exactly what I want it to be, and 2) people are going to dislike it. Both of these are essential for my writing to ever progress past journaling and blog posts that aren’t promoted.

So, join me in pursuing our passions, and, if necessary, accepting a less than perfect job.

Until next time or not, I’m still Cait.





Not a thing.

This. Is. Not. A. Thing.

I have to tell myself this each and every time your name lights up my phone. Each and every time.

I promise it’s not because you matter a great deal to me. It’s not because I want you to ask me to be your girlfriend. It has absolutely nothing to do with YOU.

It’s me.

Yes, I used the “it’s not you, it’s me” cliche, on our “situation.” I apologize for resorting to that, but honestly, I didn’t have a choice. It was either you, or my sanity. And I chose my mental health.

Here’s the thing…

You are not a nice person. I don’t feel bad letting you know, in fact it not only feels good, it feels like the right thing to do. Has anyone ever told you this? I think you know how to manipulate people. I think you know how to get what you want. I think you lie to achieve your own agenda. And I don’t think it’s cool. More importantly, I most definitely don’t want that type of person in my life.

Yes, you’re cute. Yes, you’re fun to talk to when you’re acting like an attentive friend and sometimes…more. No, I don’t hate when you say I’m pretty. Yes, it made me feel good.

But. People like you, don’t really like people like me. I’m not trying to be self-deprecating, I’m being real. (As I recall you didn’t appreciate that the first time it happened, my realness I mean. I know you remember.) You like me when I’m amenable and flexible. You like me when I tell you that I like you.

But that’s not me. Sorry to burst your bubble babe, but it’s not. I am not in the habit of being anything other than honest. And strangely, despite your short presence in my life, you had a poignant effect.

(Which while painful at the time, has given me some great material, and for that I owe you.)

Also, I know you know this, but let me repeat myself:

I have a small life. My day-to-day comings and goings are not filled with dozens of people who enter and exit. In fact, my life is quite the opposite. I have a small group of friends and family that I let into my life. A small group that I allow to affect my decisions and feelings. I have an even smaller group that I see on a somewhat regular basis. And that’s why I must tell you,

you are not one of my people.

Because my life is not a large affair filled with excitement, I have the power to choose who influences me. I have the power of choice. The power of deciding who is right for my life, and who doesn’t deserve a role at all. However, I’m a clumsy director. Sometimes I don’t see a failing storyline until I’m halfway through a scene, or even sometimes, an act. I have to make the tough decisions to stop things before they come to fruition. I have to do this because I care about myself too much to allow things that do not matter to take up air time.

You are a scene, an act, and a person, I have chosen not to include in my life.

It’s not you, it’s me.

Plus, you’re a jerk. Boy bye.

Until next time or not, I’m still Cait.





Remember how I moved?

If not, you’re really behind on my life, come on, what have you even been doing? Keep up!

Anywho, I moved this year. I got a new job and made the leap to a different place and comfort zone if I’m being honest.

This all stemmed from a fear of being stagnant. I woke up on New Year’s Day 2016, and realized that I hadn’t really made any forward motion in the past year.

And it scared me.

So what did I do? I made a change. I did what I set out to do too! I had success in my goal setting, and it felt so good.

But then, I started to feel the fear of not making enough forward motion again. It was frustrating. I thought, “Wasn’t moving supposed to cure that feeling??”

A wise man, named Seth Godin, recently pointed out the way our society is focused on the transitions in life. A new job, starting a new business, a wedding, graduation, etc.

We think of these changes as the be all end all, and isn’t that silly?

I mean, when you really think about it, the ceremony of anything is so short. The middle is what we should be focused on, the meat of things.

A graduation is just a testament to your hard work, but if you didn’t really try your best, skated through on shoddy work and the path of least resistance, what are we celebrating? Your ability to spend tens of thousands of dollars on an education that isn’t doing anyone, any good?

Not trying to be a Debbie Downer, but I think it’s something to consider.

The next time you’re pumped to humblebrag about an “accomplishment” stop, and decide whether you deserve the recognition.

Don’t toot your horn before you’re in the band, yo.

Until next time or not, I’m still Cait.


Think of someone you’re close to.

What comes to mind?

A word? A feeling? A smell?

I technically have one sibling, a brother. However, in a lot of ways, there are two people who could fill the sibling position in my life. (A highly coveted spot I assure you.) My cousin Melissa has been with me through childhood and into adulthood, and even though 200 miles was typically between us during our formative years, she’s the person in my life who has most closely filled the role of sister. The girl who wore watching outfits with me. The girl who got the same Barbie for Christmas with me. The person who let me know what to expect in first grade before I got there.

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Young and fashionable, just living life.

It was hard being separated by all those I-70 miles, but we knew the next major holiday couldn’t take THAT long to get here, right?

Then we actually got to be kinda-sorta neighbors. Well, neighbors for us.

For almost two years, only thirty minutes was between us, and it was so great. Melissa would tell you it was surreal. It didn’t feel like it could be true. I would finally be close enough that I could pop by her house, steal her food, feed her toddler candy, and watch her movies. I could finally treat her as a true sister, annoying her and everything!

But then, it changed.

I was at a point in my life where I needed to move on professionally, and she was selfless enough to support me, despite wanting me to stay. So before we knew it, I was out of northwest Kansas and on the other side of the state.


Smiling faces & swollen eyes – my last night in NW Kansas.

It was the best place for me, and still is. But it’s been six months, and I still miss her. And unlike when I was 7, major holidays don’t always mean I get to see my sister. It’s just a huge reminder of how much I miss her when I don’t…

I got off the phone with this woman earlier today, and it was a long conversation. It covered family updates, work issues, three year-old daughter intrusions, morning sickness, and a lot of other things that can’t really be categorized into any specific topic.

In short, we had one of those chats that didn’t have an agenda or a point. We just wanted to exist with each other; take up a couple hours of time on this earth and be connected.

And I love that about her. I love that about a good friend. Sometimes, you don’t need to make sense, sometimes, you’re just passing the time, and it’s just being in the (virtual, at times) presence of a person who makes you feel glad to be you. Those people who can make you remember all the reasons you don’t suck and remind you of some of the ways you can suck less.

And she does make me glad that I’m me- a person I’m not the biggest fan of at times.

I hope I make her feel that way about herself because she’s great. She’s a pregnant wife, mom, print shop aficionado, Christian, craft queen, pianist, hair stylist, short order chef, psychologist, relationship specialist, and… my sister. And somehow, despite all those other hats she constantly wearing, she’s never dropped the ball on me.

I kinda like her a little bit. Well, enough to give her a blog post. (Also, I’m cheap – and late – when it comes to birthday gifts, ha!)

So, moral of the story, have those phone conversations that feel like a meandering walk. Don’t underestimate the importance of your presence to someone. Sometimes, it’s not about productivity, but the opposite. But sometimes when you’re being “unproductive” that’s when you’re making the most progress.

Until next time or not, I’m still Cait.