ON FEELING MISUNDERSTOOD

Me in 2014, the year I became a bitch

I think that I was in middle school when people first started calling me a bitch. It was around the time that I decided that I should talk less, since everything I said seemed to just cause me embarrassment. People didn't always use that word, but they didn't have to. Even the adults around me clearly felt they had to take me down a peg. In 7th grade, when I asked an innocent question, I remember my teacher responded by saying "I know you think you're being cute, but I don't have time for this, Celina." The next year, another teacher pulled me out of class and accused me of being flippant. When I told her I didn't know what that word meant, she insisted I was lying and continued to lecture me. My dear partner of 7 years told his best friend I was a bitch after we first met (I don't hold it against him, things were different then and we were 15). Friends of several years will tell me that they were intimidated by me when we first met, or less generously, that they thought I was a bitch too.

I guess it could be my fault for having a personal style that may be scary, or for taking up space when people think I should shrink. It could just be that I'm weird, and always have been. People just decide things about me before I get a chance to introduce myself. I have to fight if I want to change their minds, and it usually wouldn't work anyways. The thing that makes it so hard is that I've always been profoundly sensitive. It doesn't hurt me if people take time and decide they don't like me, but it hurts when they decide I'm not worthy of kindness or consideration before they get to know me. I can't tell you how many group projects or work environments I've been a part of where people immediately treat me coldly and give me judgmental looks. It hurts the most when I try to connect with someone, to give them a compliment or make conversation, and they shut it down either because they think I'm not being genuine, or because they've already decided they don't like me. My heart is kind, I know that. But my entire life, I've had people decide on first glance, that it's not. It is very hard not to take it personally.

I don't think I should change, and I don't want to. I know I'm not doing anything wrong. But I wish there was a way to not be hurt by feeling so misunderstood all the time. Most of all, I wish I could help the little girl inside of me who became a bitch before she could become a person.

Thank you for reading.

Celina Carra

ON WRITING FOR ME (OR FOR YOU)

Little Celina 'Writing' at age 2

Hello.

    The hardest part of writing for me has never been the process. Not the editing, or the structure, or even the act of putting feelings into words. The part of writing that makes my fingertips go numb and my hands go shaky is what comes after I put down the pen. I am overwhelmingly terrified of putting my work out into the public for people to read and judge. 

BIRTHDAY WEEK IN ROCHESTER NY (DAYS 4 AND 5)

 Hello!

After my birthday, we had a couple days left in Rochester to take it easy and explore new locations. 

The first stop on our 4th day in New York was Artisanworks, an event space and art gallery inside of a warehouse in Rochester. We got coffee first, at a big cold empty shop in the same building that only had hot espresso drinks (in the 90 degree heat). 

Walking into Artisanworks, I immediately fell in love with the maximalist eclectic vintage feel of the space. With high ceilings, bright walls and colored lights, the space was absolutely packed with beautiful art and vintage items.