I’m sorry. If you know me in real life you will understand that I can be awfully fickle. This is an example of that.

http://blog.anothercaroline.com

YES

Just minutes after posting in our new space, it felt wrong. In the shower, where all wisdom originates, I realized that maybe I was too in love with the idea of something polished to see that what my brain generated for a physical medium wouldn’t work in that digital space. ‘Polished’ (this is very stream of consciousness-esque because I am tired) was a manifestation of my inherent need to control, to know where the end is, how perfect that end would be. I can’t. In that, the candidness is lost and somehow, it probably isn’t real anymore.

I don’t know what I’m thinking. Like I said, I’m tired, but I’m going to post this anyway because I guess it’s honest (& incoherent, who doesn’t love that).

Point being, WE’RE NOT MOVING ANYMORE. I’m sorry for being such a drama queen but thanks for sticking around (:

Goodnight.

I wish I bought those Pringles I reached for earlier..

In about a week, http://blog.anothercaroline.com will redirect to a polished little online magazine of sorts—still personal and real, but now without the meaningless ‘fillers’.

facebook / twitter / formspring

Bleached blonde with dark roots? Check.
Leopard print coat? Check.
Gaudy pink accessory? Check.
Hello Kitty? Check.

Wow..

How did this happen? Someone’s turning into the naff 2000s kid we used to laugh at. Next thing you know I’ll be listening to Jolin Tsai and wearing glittery pink lipgloss again. This new dark side’s all kewtz and kawaii. I’m now fighting the urge to dig up those old neoprints we spent too much money on, such foolish children. I will show them to my children someday, between forcing them to play para para (not that I ever did) and telling stories of how we played Snake on phones with black and white screens. The future seems so bizarre. Last week I learnt that what’s cool at any given moment is always dictated by what those in their twenties were into as teenagers because one always looks upon their childhood fondly. Hello Christina circa 2003—you know I’m not-so-secretly loving this.

(Photos taken by Jeremy)

Been craving truffle fries recently—golden fries, not fat chips.

(Kodak disposable camera)

"Minds are like parachutes, they only function when they’re open."

— Thomas Robert Dewar

In the spirit of honesty, this being 2012, I admit I was a tad hung over the first day of OCF retreat, though technically I suppose you can’t quite be hung over if you hadn’t slept yet. I think it’s a bit of a funny story but listeners often seem embarrassed on my behalf, much like the lip tattoo one.

This was the day after that day, where I ran around the field begging to dance to Nicki Minaj’s Super Bass before dreaming up a scene with couples dancing the waltz in a square of fairy lights and paper lanterns. That has all the makings of a beautifully somber, yet indulgent funeral party. I call dibs.

(Photos taken by Jun)