Iron Sky

I like to people watch.  I’m that person you catch missing train stops, running into brick walls, and falling over pavement because I am awe struck in my made-up story of the unlucky individual sitting/standing/reading/sleeping beside me. I pretend as though I get people, even when I have no idea who they are or what they’ve been through.  I make up stories about where they’re headed in life, where they came from, and what they’re running from.

You could say I’m a silent narrator of the human race, but like – a really bad one. 

To some extent, I believe we all pretend to understand people.  Maybe its to relate to one another, or to feel a connection, or maybe its just so we don’t feel so distant in such an immense world.

But an individual’s true story will never fit into the template you’ve created in your mind. 

The attacks in Paris, the people of Iraq, and the Syrian refugees prove this.

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I will keep the following  as PC as possible:

There are many cultures, but only one human race.  We are all a part of this, and I hate to be the one to tell you – but to believe in equality means to believe it past the confines of your religion.  To believe in love, to believe in freedom, to believe in the right to live goes far beyond your family and friends.

It seems easy to freely state a belief in something, but to see what your belief means beyond the familiarity of your current practices can be challenging.  To have the core of your morality truly tested, you have to break away from your comfort zone.  To close borders and cast hate, but pray for peace is only creating more of a disconnect.

I will not pretend that I know the answers to the current state of our nation and the world, but I know for us to gain any true sense of unity – we have to practice a more compassionate lifestyle.  A lifestyle that seeks to understand, rather than judge.  A lifestyle that hopes to open doors instead of close them shut.




Listen, first you should all know I try with my whole being not to like Mumford and Sons.

But this song, y’all… I can’t stop.

Now, for something totally unrelated to Mumford –

Recently, I read this beautiful piece about writing what you know.  Writing about the pain and the joy… and the stuff you think no one gets.  I’ve always hated people who sugar coat the truth – or people who sugar coat their writing (ie: Elizabeth Gilbert’s first chapter in Eat Pray Love), but writing what you know means you have to write about the real stuff.

And the real stuff gets personal.

For the most part, I think people know a lot about me.  I share way too many short sentence thoughts on twitter and FB, I share too many opinions on this Southern Wild blog, and I post a thousand photos of daily, mediocre life on snap chat.  But I feel like there is still a large aspect of me that I keep secret.

Someone recently made a very sweet effort in telling me how inspiring my posts were, and they noted that they were “envious” of my happy outlook on life.  That was incredibly sweet, and nice to think about, but it made me feel like a total fraud.

You see, I don’t like thinking about the bad stuff – which means I don’t like sharing it – which means I don’t write about it – which probably means, even though I share a lot of personal thoughts, people don’t really know me.

But in a world where selective oversharing is taking over, the idea of being completely translucent in writing is difficult.

Really, really difficult.

After a post I wrote a few days ago, my mother expressed that my writing is not as vulnerable as it once was.  She was worried I put too much thought in what others think when they read it, and she was right.

But when you want to write for a living – people have to want to read what you write.



I love sharing my attempts at discovering who I am, what I want, and where I fit in this world, but I hate sharing the negative side of doing all of those things.  Unfortunately, when you don’t want to harp on negatives, you have to find the positives, and sometimes that focus on the positive side shows an idealized, Kim K version of what life is really like.

I guess what I’m trying to get across is this:

Life really is beautiful, chasing after dreams is the best adventure, and love and friendship are the most rewarding feelings in life.  However, that doesn’t mean there aren’t parts that suck.  There are days that are hard, there’s disappointment, there’s loss, and there’s still failure.

I don’t write to help people, or to inspire, or to evoke feeling.  But I also don’t write to mislead.  I write because I like it, and sometimes I feel like it’s the only thing I innately know how to do.  I write when I can’t sleep, I write when I can’t talk things out, I write when I can’t understand how I feel…  but that writing isn’t the writing I share.  I share the dumbed down version of that, because I have this immense fear of how it will be relayed.

And that’s not fair.

Maybe that’s something we should all strive to change?  I’m not saying not to keep the private things private – but this world could use a raw look at things.  Maybe it will let us all know how closely our lives and challenges align with one another.

– Cap

Southern Wild: A starting exposition

As it usually goes, I have a million and one things I should be accomplishing at this dawn struck hour.  Yet, here I am contemplating which post should start off this Southern Wild adventure… which takes precedence, obviously.

You see, in the world of procrastination – I rule.  I will not be modest on the account.  I could build an empire in two days, as long as you’ve given me at least five other, more important tasks to complete. I guess that’s where this blog comes in.  I need a little escape from the rather daunting projects currently going on, and what’s more fun than procrastinating daunting projects?  Exactly.  NOTHING.

So far tonight, I’ve successfully stalked every acquaintance I admire on Facebook, Twitter and Insta, I’ve planned a full menu for an imaginary restaurant in downtown Charleston, and I’ve not only created a logo, title and blog post for this blog we speak of now… but I’ve also cultivated the very thought of it!  All this while a 30 page short story on Cajun heritage is hanging over my head.  (In which I’ve completed a mere total of 4 HORRENDOUS pages)

Hopefully, Southern Wild will host my account on life’s events in a manner that makes it seem more interesting than it actually is.  Because, let’s be fair… it’s pretty sub par.

Words of Advice that will help you if you so choose to follow the posts:

I don’t like rambling.  However, It seems to be a never ending side effect of writing and drinking bourbon.  Two things I happen to enjoy greatly.  For this, I apologize in advance.

Secondly, I have an obsession with ellipses… and short. one. word. sentences. like. this.

Thirdly, I have a weird thing where I think attempting to forego my basic bitch image is funny.  It’s not funny.  I get that.  Still, I think making fun of current hype words is my true passion in life.  I often write (and speak) in a satirical format that seeks to ridicule every individual who genuinely uses words and phrases like:  bae, bye Felicia, #WCW, #selfiesunday, and so on.  So, the gansta talk will be here because it’s totally bae, and that’s what I’ve grown accustomed to, bitch.  #YOLO

Also, you should know I write and compose rap songs for my pup.  It’s a real problem.

So, if these all seem like doable exceptions to make – please tag along while random thoughts get transferred into the blogging world.  It may be wild at times, as the lack of sleep and increased blood alcohol levels do permit my mind to express every aspect of my little life… but that should be the fun in it all.

To new adventures.