September 26, 2015
The First Day of the Rest of My Life
August 25, 2015
Caroline’s Comprehensive Coffee Consumption
If I were to blog about my life in Austin, it would largely be a blog about local cafes. I love working from home — seven years of homeschooling prepped me well for that — but I don’t feel completely whole when I’m in my apartment 23 hours of the day. (That one special hour out is reserved for my near-daily Lady Bird Lake Trail run). So on days when I have a large enough gap in my schedule without any major client calls, I bike or drive to a cafe. I haven’t compiled a comprehensive list yet of all the places I’ve been to, but I’d estimate it’s close to 15. I definitely don’t want this to be a daily habit, as one $3 coffee five days a week x 50 weeks = $750 in a year. But it feels somewhat necessary as I need the variety, and because I work much more comfortably in a cafe than in the Trilogy office downtown. (Trilogy is the parent company that founded Crossover.)
August 12, 2015
A Broken Circle
My compost bin is quiet like a tomb. The dark, moist soil lies still as a corpse.
August 9, 2015
“The Real World”
I’ve always hated when people refer to life after college as “the real world.” Was college not real? I suppose some people coast through college by achieving the bare minimum to be considered “successful” — that is, eligible for employment in a mediocre 9-to-5 contributing incrementally towards some generic product or service with dubious impact on anyone’s well-being (from the overpaid CEO to the underpaid janitor to the mind-numbing dullness of every employee’s monotonous life).
April 16, 2015
Details
If I could go back and do one thing differently throughout college, it would be more journaling and blogging. Nights from my first semester that I never doubted would be permanently etched in my memory are now faded. Specific meals with special people are now blurred into the stream of past days. Though I’ll continue to carry the effects of those many serendipitous conversations that influenced my thoughts and perception — conversations that opened my eyes to new ideas and ones that nudged my path in new directions — I no longer remember all the details of what was said, or exactly when and where it happened.