My Oh My

On a happier note

2011-09-12T14:27:00.000-07:00

If you recall January, I couldn't even get off the couch to do... anything. Eat, do laundry, talk to people. It is such a relief to be me again. It turns out I'm still here! The silly, slightly cynical, unique me is still here under all that depression and I can be productive! Not all the time, mind you. It was quite the battle to get some stuff done today and I still have things to do. Every day is still a battle not to fall back into depression but it's 3 million times easier than it was. Already today I've been to the gym, ate, cleaned the shower, put a bunch of laundry away, unpacked from a trip I took last week, made a playlist on youtube, and several other things that months ago I would have had to dig deeeeeep for the ability to attempt. I can't even count the gold stars.

Now it's off to the tailor and the grocery store before a good meal with protein, and evening walk, and some time to read. If only every day could be this good (sigh, work.)

Go, Katie! You can do it!

2011-09-08T17:35:00.000-07:00

I must be careful not to be seen as I cross the parking lot from the drugstore to the alley where I'll duck in the back door to work. Once there, I'm happy to share my loot but as I dodge fashionable moms, grad students, and Jewish grandmas I'm glad that I changed my mind and got a bag to carry my purchase. It's one thing for a skinny chick to be seen carrying Oreos and milk. Even other skinny people think something along the lines of, "Gawd, I bet she can eat anything. Ugh, look at her and her stupid skinny legs." It's quite another for the fat chick to carry the Oreos. It's like a greedy little Gus the mouse in Cinderella trying to carry too much corn-- only not so cute. Even the other fat people look at her disgustedly thinking, "Doesn't she know how she got that way?"

Yup, I know I how I got that way. Instant gratification. I want milk and Oreos. I want it now. I want it more than I believe I can be skinny in 6 months, so snack time wins. Actually, it was lunch, but whatever. A meal by any other name...

Of course, there's a million and one ways I got this way. When I was 10, my metabolism got all freaked out because I nearly died. I hate exercise and always have. My knees are bad. I have fibromyalgia. I have no discipline, I have low frustration tolerance, and I cannot, for the life of me, actually see how I will be skinny in a few months unless I change everything. And I can't change everything. So I eat Oreos and hope my boyfriend still loves me and hope that I still love myself.

I wish a doctor would tell me that I have to change. But so far none have. Doctors have gone really soft these days. My last doctor visit was to a neurologist for migraines. She gave me a list of medications and told me that I should choose a couple and let her know what I wanted to take. Since when, I ask, am I the doctor? What do I pay her for? The problem with the weight/eating issue is that I can't tell a doctor to tell me what to do or I won't feel like they really have that authority over me.

In the meantime, I will probably continue to be consistently inconsistent at the gym, embarrassed to be seen in public, and will eventually look back at myself at this time and wonder how I was ever this skinny. How depressing.

Bullet Point Blogging

2011-05-04T22:35:00.000-07:00

10:30, Wednesday night. I'd love to go for a walk, but I don't have a big dog. Or a boyfriend. Or a pocket knife. Even the flashlight on my keyring broke.

I don't know if I can make sense of all the things I want to say today.
Maybe bullet points would be better.

I have reached the level of weight gain where I am embarrassed to be seen walking down the street.
I had to be No More Mr. Nice Katie (Ms. just doesn't sound the same) at work today when a coworker decided she wasn't coming to work.
Someone told me today that I only like boys who are just out of reach. I'm afraid that she is right.
My first boyfriend is engaged. I don't know why this has any effect on me whatsoever.

If I were not so extremely tired (and did not have benadryl in my system) I would elaborate on these things. It is not to be.
Goodnight.

Use it up, Wear it Out, Make it Do, or Do Without

2011-05-03T22:09:00.000-07:00

Unfortunately, this is a different age. This is not the age my grandfather,the hoarder, grew up in. I do not want to keep using my laundry bag with the large hole and pokey-out wire. I will, but I grudge it. I do not want to use my dirty, holey tennis shoes. Well, I don't use them, actually, since I don't go to the gym. So never mind. I do not want to wear the sweatshirt that is uncomfortable at the collar and has a stain on it and isn't flattering. Ah ha! Pay-dirt.

Early in my life I had to wear hand-me-downs. Cheap is what mattered, not style or comfort. Then I got into comfort and I was always in trouble for lack of style. Baggy sweatshirts did not impress my mom. Why don't you wear something more flattering? Of course, now that my body is not-so-little I wish I had taken advantage of it, but I thought I was covering up my "fat" as it was back then. And as soon as I wanted style I could not afford it, my body would not allow it, and it turned out that style, comfort, and affordability were long estranged friends or, rather, sworn enemies.

Use it up? I'm trying to think of something I wouldn't normally use up but now do because it's uneconomical not to. I suppose I use stale flour, but that's only because you can't really get fresh flour in this humid state. OH and I definitely used some not super-fresh eggs in a cake recently. And as long as we're actually supposed to be talking about style here, I definitely use makeup products longer than I probably should because I can't afford them. It's too bad, too, since makeup and accessories are the only flattering things left to me.

Wear it out? My socks have holes in them that, in a previous life, would have had my mother tossing them in the garbage. My underwear has strings of elastic hanging pathetically by my thighs as if to beg the question: which has lost more youthful tautness and sex appeal?

Make it do? I stopped buying expensive Nordstrom bras and Target was getting me by for a while. Lately, though, my shirt is all kinds of not-human shapes in that general area and I spend half my day discreetly or not-so-discreetly yanking the straps back onto my shoulders. I blame the notcheap, notexpensive bra from the Gap. Oh, and my size and shape. Oh, and the fact that I have to wear one at all. Sure, I'm making it do. But it ain't perty.

Do Without. I don't even want to talk about it. I don't want to talk about what I do without that I shouldn't. I don't want to talk about what I should do without that I get anyway. I simply do not want to talk about it. The end.

I'm not going to be my grandfather. I will not save the rings from around the cap on the milk jug. I will not wash ziplock bags or flatten foil so they can be used again. (I think that means I will also not be my father.) I am not going to save the condiment packages from the restaurant so that I can save on groceries. My life is already run by this thing, whatever it is, in too many ways big and small.

I'm not saying that these are not good things to live by. I'm simply saying that I would like to be skinny and have money to buy things to dress my skinny self and not have to worry about saving milk-jug rings.

Not that I have any milk.

Everything Starts in the Middle

2011-05-02T23:23:00.000-07:00

Whichever it is, or whichever one wins out... All I can say is that I think last time I felt this way I moved to California. Sigh. Oh, please, please don't let it be anything like that. I don't really have the energy to do anything big right now. Sure, part of me wants to be open to whatever God is up to and sure, he had to drag me half-way 'round the world to beat it into my head that he was gonna have his way. But... But... Sigh.

I feel like it's 2 in the morning and it's only 11:26 pm. I haven't eaten dinner (that is an entirely different discussion) unless you count the four Thin Mints and the five or so High Chew candies.

I feel like the week is never going to end and when it does it will only be the weekend for a brief flicker of glorious light. This weekend, in fact, will be eaten up by women's retreat at church, which by definition should be restorative but won't be.

Even as I write this incredibly imperfect post (and think that there must be a much better word, something literary and eloquent, something like "dithyramb,") I think of how much else there is write and how I shouldn't post this because I haven't written the other things. But I am learning: Everything starts in the middle.
That will be the title for this post EVEN THOUGH I would rather use the title for some other, better piece. Ah, dear.

Finally getting sleepy. Another night on the couch, where it is ever-so-slightly cooler.
Here's to tomorrow, the almost almost middle of the week.

Should

2011-01-09T00:18:00.000-08:00

I've found life to be a bit overwhelming as of late. The other day my friend called and found me crying. I hung up rather quickly and wrote him this email trying to explain what was going on.

Hey Friend,

In order to not be crying while I tell you all of this, I thought I would just email you.

I'm just, as usual, totally overwhelmed with my life. With my pain, I don't know what is too much activity, when to go home from work because I don't want to be the girl that goes home and I don't want to be the whiner who stays at work and I don't want to be the girl who stays at work through the pain and then grudges the people who go home with a cold.

I don't know when or how to ask for help. I don't want to be needy (you've heard this from me before). For instance, one thing I often need is a massage. That is a particularly hard thing to ask for as some people are just plain bad at it, but more importantly, sure everyone wants a massage.

I feel like if I skip things, I'm skipping because I can, not necessarily because I should. Sometimes I don't know my own motivation. Because I am not practiced in taking care of myself? I don't know. Even the phrase "taking care of myself" feels loaded and selfish. Sorry, I can't, I have to take care of myself. It makes me feel like people are resenting me just sitting on the couch, curled up under a blanket. Maybe I resent myself. Maybe at those times I feel like I could do more. I probably could, but what should I do? I have no idea. *

And there are so MANY shoulds in my life. It is a wall. I should go to the gym. I should eat vegetables. I should drink a lot of water. I should keep better track of my finances. I should tithe regularly. I should read my Bible every day. I should work in a soup kitchen. I should go on a mission trip. I should trust God. I should reach out. I should read more. I should not buy so much. I should not have so many books. I should floss every day. I should be more private. I should play guitar. I should play piano. I should think I'm smart. I should love better. I should be more like Jesus. I should weigh less. I should do my physical therapy. I should change my eating habits completely. I should have a better vocabulary. I should journal more. I should write poetry. I should go to bed. I should use my CPAP. I should be on time to work. I should use less sarcasm. I should figure out how to get married. I should give that up and let God figure it out. I should learn more about my camera. I should back up my photos. (Are you getting the idea?)

I should delete some email.

I should keep in touch with people.

I should visit some places.

I should save better so I can travel the world, or even just visit a few friends.

I should take lunch instead of buying it.

Okay, I'm stopping.

And in the mean time, I wonder how on earth anyone will ever want to be with this person when she cannot even figure out how to deal with life? I'm 28-freakin-years-old and cannot manage my own life. Thus counseling, etc. But still. How am I supposed to find someone that's not terrified by that? First they have to not be bored by me and then they have to not be overwhelmed? And all by meeting me online? What are the chances of that?!?!

I've enjoyed the last few weeks of a slower pace. No rehearsal, no small group, no teaching, no YAF, no counseling, no community group... man, it's been great. But if I were to give something up, how would I choose? There's no way. Anything I give up, I give up community. And I'm just too relational to do that. It's hard enough to think about the relationships I'm not building, but to give up continuing to build the ones I have... I can't even think about it.

And so I cry. I'm overwhelmed by sickness and life and relationships.

All there is to do is take it one second at a time and hope I get to the next sleeping time. Which I will do soon. Unfortunately it leads to a waking time. Alas.

There you go.

Also, men are stupid.
That is 70% of it. And my life being overwhelming is 87% of it. I'm aware that doesn't add up. The heart disregards math, which I appreciate since I think math is difficult.

*post script written at the time of this blog post
Am I just being lazy? If I'm going to go somewhere do I also have to put out the effort to be helpful and social? If I'm going to a friend's house can I arrive and hunker down instead or should I have just stayed home?

Christmastime song

2010-12-11T23:02:00.000-08:00

Jesus, Jesus, baby Jesus,
your cries echo our own.
Precious savior come to comfort
those of us who mourn.

Lived to die and died for Life,
risen now above.
Help us see your spirit here,
to live and breathe in love.

Christmas lights and bright white snow,
but you're the reason we
gather now to sing your praise
around the Christmas tree.

Stick it to 'em

2010-11-25T00:23:00.000-08:00

Like any good teacher, I've got stickers to put on my students' piano assignments. I use them as an indication that they've passed that particular song. The problem? The stickers are a little too affirming for what I'm trying to convey. While "Terrific!" "Fantastic!" and "Way 2 Go!" are definitely nice sentiments, I'm looking for something more honest. Something along the lines of, "Well, at least you hit most of the notes." Or how about, "I'm feeling generous today." Even better: "I have some unidentified feeling that could be generosity but could be laziness or even apathy. Here, kid, have a sticker." Maybe, "Wow, you must have practiced at least once this week!" Perhaps the most honest of them all could be, "I'm tired of this song, let's move on for my sake." I think my personal favorite (as it is my mother's outlook on housekeeping and I therefore apply it to life in general) would be, "Better is good enough!"
Where are the honest stickers? Oh well, this is the post modern world, right? Everyone's a Terrific, Fantastic, Number 1, Way-to-go Winner with a gold star on top!

ThanksTAKING

2010-11-23T22:13:00.000-08:00

This has been one of those days that just takes all the gratitude right out of me. I don't mean it to be that way, and if I thought about it, I could count my blessings.

I've had a migraine since Saturday. After being in bed for two days straight I couldn't fall asleep last night until 3 am and proceeded to sleep through my alarms this morning. This made me extra late to work and I didn't get a shower. Because I was extra late, my coworker was extra grouchy. Also, my headache is not gone.
I had to leave early from work to go the doctor. I had directions, sort of. But there are two locations in close proximity and it was very confusing. I called the main line to try to find out if I was in the right place and they thought I was... but then I wasn't. So I was very late for my appointment, which I really couldn't afford to be. And I was trying hard not to cry because that would only make my headache worse. The doctor was very nice but I was totally overwhelmed by all "help" available to me. I managed to have time to go get a hot chocolate which tasted funny (it always does from that Starbucks) and was expensive (they charge extra for a peppermint hot chocolate this time of year because now it's a "holiday drink"). Also I got a tough, crusty bagel. Yum yum.
Anyway, after several more hours of engagements, I stopped at the grocery store. Mistake. We are two days away from Thanksgiving. Apparently that's when people do their shopping. I just wanted milk. Oh, and flour. Oh, and... so I was there for a while. I piled up stuff in my arms. They didn't have the oatmeal that was on sale. They didn't have swiffers. They didn't have small blocks of Velveeta (obviously the only reason you would buy Velveeta is if you were so poor you couldn't afford real cheese so you buy gargantuan blocks of yellow goo... but wait! the price of Velveeta is so high these days, that doesn't make sense either. I give up.) I finally got in line. No express lanes open, no. That would make too much sense. The nice couple in front of me let me put my stuff down on their cart. And then just as they finished checking out, I saw the cashier bag a carton of milk for them. MILK! Nooooo! I didn't pick up the milk! Whatever. I so don't need milk. Who drinks milk anyway? (whimper) I can totally do without milk till after Thanksgiving (lord knows I'm not going back there till then). (Aaaaaack, I need milk!) How did I manage to remember a freakin' red pepper and not milk? Man. Oh well. I paid my $15 and change, shoved my inherited cart into some other semi-returned carts and grouched my way back to my car which was carefully parked between three non-returned carts.
Here at home I've been gnawing on, no, nomming down in quick succession, lemon Starburst. Lemon are only third best, which really means they are second to last. I was eating them quickly to get them out of the way for the one pink one that turned up. How annoying.

And though this rant has been sort of satisfactory, I know it does not measure up to some of the past. See? Even my ranting is below par today. Ugh. Did I mention that it is cold and my neck is tighter than... something really tight? But it's not as cold as at home, in WA. So I can't even complain properly about that.
Whatever. I think I'll go to bed. And maybe even wake up for my alarm in the morning. Time shall tell. (insert something witty about time shall tell and alarm clocks).

Goodnight.

Oh, and somewhere in there I might have eaten three doughnuts. Oops.

Coffee

2010-10-28T23:25:00.000-07:00

I always hated coffee. I would avoid that aisle at the grocery store so that I wouldn't have to smell the beans. I remember one year at Thanksgiving, the only time of year we ever pulled out our coffee maker (green, 70s style) my sister poured herself a cup claiming that she liked to hold it and smell it. Huh? But now I understand. Since Starbucks and such places took over the western world and everyone "meets for coffee" (I meet for hot chocolate) I've grown accustomed to and even enjoy the smell of coffee. Sometimes it's too strong. Sometimes Peet's coffee grinds make me want to throw up. But sometimes, when my roommate has been making coffee in the mornings, my apartment reminds me of my grandmother and of Thanksgiving, and that is nice.

Much

2010-10-22T23:18:00.000-07:00

Hello, writing.
There is much on my heart. Much.

Things like how much of a failure I am and in what ways, how much ache there is in the world and those I love whom it affects.
But also, though not as much, how much beauty there is in the world and how simple yet complicated it is. Yet how I don't see it and how it is somehow unattainable.

I so do not live up to my potential, and I don't know which ways to stretch myself. Should I learn guitar or drums or relearn piano or clarinet or voice? Or none of those things? Or ALL of those things? Should I write more or read more or sleep more... or exercise, drink water, eat better, feed the homeless, serve everyone, be an artist, take classes, organize, clean, or budget? ALL of these things or none of these things? In what order? To what extent? Should I get back in touch with people/ keep in touch with people? Should I take more photographs/ organize photographs/ edit photographs/ print photographs/ scrapbook photographs? Throw out clothes, buy new clothes, rework my current wardrobe, return those red shoes, buy new shoes, go back to buying nice undergarments, change out my jewelry... or just not care and hope someone marries me for my charmingly obsessive personality?

Ache ache ache. Affairs and death and cancer and suicide. Unrequited love. Fear, failure, physical pain. Loss of hope. And even beauty can be painful, for oh the recognition that my mind is feeble to understand it. And also, it connects so deeply inside of me, to some long-forgotten God-image-- why does that hurt? For the disconnect? For the pain of healing? For the minuscule recognition of what was meant to be? Oh, beauty you are a mystery. Life, you are a beautiful, painful, aching mystery.

Meditations on meditation

2010-09-03T19:36:00.000-07:00

I'm told to meditate. The eastern idea, at least as I understand it, is to sit still and calmly, and see what comes to you. As something comes to you, deal with that and then you can set it aside and move on. As I'm slightly annoyed that the eastern religions have an apparent monopoly on meditation even though the word meditate comes up time and again in my very own bonded leather, binding-breaking, hi-lighted and written in, words-of-Christ-in-Red, stuffed with years-old church bulletins Bible, I shall endeavor to take it on myself.

Let's begin:

Deep Breath.
Ahhh.

This is nice.

What comes to me?
Hmmm.

A cookie!
Oh dear. A cookie? I don't think that's right. But there must not be a right and wrong. This is meditation. A cookie is what came to me and I must deal with the cookie. Well, there are a few ways to deal with a cookie. One is avoid it. But I'm fairly sure I'm not supposed to be avoiding things. No, the therapist would not be happy with that. The other is to eat the cookie. Well, there IS a cookie over there. One left from a few days ago and probably not that good anymore. But what can one do? In the name of expansion and clarity of mind and spirit....
Okay, yeah, that was good. Chocolate chip. Thanks, Safeway.

Indian position. I mean cross-legged. (Yipes, I'm not good at this. Do you have to be PC to meditate?)
I wonder if I should find a yoga mat. That seems appropriate. Hey my sister once had some comfy yoga pants she liked to wear on the airplane.
Okay, thinking.
Mmmm.
A Nap!
Well, there we go.
Okay, Go take a nap. I'll meet you back here in... wait, won't alarm clocks interrupt the nice calm setting we have going here?...

While you were napping I got a cat. I know. But a cat came next in my meditation, after I woke up from my nap. (Hm? Oh, it was lovely thanks, how was yours?) Perhaps it was "cat nap." Or maybe I just really like cats. She's a nice cat. Except sometimes I am sad and cats do not care.

Dinosaurs!
Uh oh. How shall I deal with dinosaurs? Perhaps there is a deeper psychological meaning behind the dinosaur. Something really big is bothering me? I feel old like a dinosaur? The Ray Bradbury story "A Sound of Thunder" has been haunting me since 8th grade? I felt abandoned when I sat at school watching "The Land Before Time" as a latch key kid? Oh look, a dinosaur transformer toy. Maybe that's why people often close their eyes while they're doing this stuff.

****

Shift. (Yes, that word has five letters, what have you been reading?!) Apparently, if you hold down the shift key for 8 seconds, you would like to turn on the filter function. In my little meditation world, however, holding down the shift key for 8 seconds means I am thinking. Thinking about writing down the things that came to me and how that was the only way to think about them at all. If I had been working with my actual stream-of-consciousness I would not be able to keep up and much more meaningful things would pop up, but I wouldn't be able to follow them at all. My mind is much to busy to even follow itself let alone with writing or speaking or even meditating-- calmly or otherwise. I suppose holding down that shift key was, in fact, turning on the filter function. I was filtering my stream of consciousness into something I could write about.
Well, that was fun or educational or something.

Now about that nap...

You are Too Much and Not Enough

2010-07-20T20:41:00.001-07:00

Mmmm, I love my blog. I don't use it near enough. Here, lovely space, is where I can say what I truly feel. On my gmail status I have to write in code lest someone see how I really feel and run away. In real life I must catch them first, trick them into being my friend and then someday show them the real me and see if they stick around. Supposedly one of them will marry me that way. It's a good method. So my current status code is: "i t o t p. r i t m. a w w w h i i t t t t r o. y t w g w." I don't even remember how to break it. I think it says something like : "I'm too overwhelmed to purge. Room is too messy. Also wondering what would happen if I told them the truth right off. Yeah that would go well. " See but codes are dangerous too. Someone is bound to wonder about that and I can't be cryptic about it or they still know something is up. Or wrong. Or... goodness, the English language. How can "up" and "wrong" mean the same thing? On a barely-similar note, I think it is sad that I buy beautiful journals but write better when I can type so I can get my thoughts out at a decent speed. Alas.
ANYWAY.
1) I hate that I'm lying in bed instead of purging my clothes and listening to music on my new speakers, but what is to be done about it? Ugh.
2) See? What if I just put it out there, on my eHarmony profile or wherever, that I'm NOT a driven person, that I'm NOT cheerful all the time, that sometimes I'm pessimistic (mostly realistic, really, and the optimists have a slightly skewed view) and that I'm certainly NOT passionate about being physically fit! I'm just barely holding on to TRYING!!! Which, by the way, I'm trying to tell myself is an accomplishment so that I don't spend the rest of my life continuing to wallow.
3) You know why I don't just put it out there? Because I have to catch them. Trick 'em. Like a half dead worm wriggling around on a barbed hook... line and sinker.
4) In a book I'm reading I have learned that I believe I am too much and not enough. That is the phrase and I find that I believe it very firmly and deeply.
5)It is very frustrating to know that possibility and life are in you and not be able to gain access.

Communication Studies

2010-06-12T23:47:00.000-07:00

Who invented mail? What a terrible idea! Mail turned into telegraphs, which turned into telephones, which turned into fax machines, which turned into emails, which turned into facebook and texting. At some point, one must have been content to stay in one's own community and communicate (see that? community/communicate? Oh fail, I can see already that the definition of community will come into play here...) with those right around them. Instead now we have to be friends with people clear across the world. And even if those friends were once right around you, you can't be satisfied to have crossed paths with them and move on. No, you must keep in touch! There ain't no excuse these days not to.

And you know why we have to? Because of relationships. And you know why we have to have relationships? Because God made us that way. Why? He's relational and he wanted us to experience that too, so he made us in His image. Thanks a lot, God. Srsly. Okay, yeah, I know, it's not your fault we took that free will and threw perfection out the window. Sometimes I just wonder about the value of autonomy. I'm usually wondering when I'm in pain.

Look, it's not that I don't want to keep in touch. It's not that I don't love my friends and I am ridiculously aware that I'm made as a relational being. And yes, I believe my community can be defined in different ways, one of those ways including people I need to keep in touch with long distance. I just get so overwhelmed, practically obsessed with my email and facebook and cell phone... It may even affect my health and possibly the Most Important Relationship and our communion (there is it again!). I won't go to bed without checking every single facebook update since I was on the night before, looking at my email, and seeing if the love of my life has contacted me yet (I don't know who he is, but he could have-- you never know...). And when I can't get back to people, or I forget to, I get little pangs of guilt. Two nights ago, I didn't open my computer before bed. It was a bit of a breakthrough. Of course, I had twice as much to go through last night... and then went to bed late and didn't wake up this morning to go to a brunch where there was a discussion on... guilt. Hah! Life is so funny.

Mail, as it was, wasn't so bad. Who doesn't love getting personal mail? Something thoughtfully written? I would love to write letters again. But in this day and age, with such up-to-the minute communication going around, I hardly feel it's worth it. I could send a letter and the news is not news by the time it arrives. And when would I have time? I can't even check my email till late at night. On the other hand, as such an all or nothing person, it's nice to be able to drop just a little note to someone. They know you're thinking of them. If only snail mail were available to me, I'd never get around to writing a letter because I'd think it would have to be more than "Hey, I was just thinking of you today." Where facebook or even email is perfect for that.

Someone said the other day that at some point in American history the porch moved from the front to the back... how sad it is. People should sit on their front porch and drink lemonade and strum their guitars and say hello to the people passing by.

The days I do have time, I don't spend it writing real letters, or even catching up on email. I certainly don't spend it outside with some lemonade looking for neighbors to talk to. And I don't spend it communing with God. I spend it compulsively checking my facebook and email waiting for... something. I don't even know what.
Something must change.
But I leave you with no real conviction that anything will.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mail

On Wealth

2010-06-12T18:35:00.000-07:00

Sometimes the need to write comes at inconvenient times. Like in the shower. When getting ready to attend your six-year-old niece's birthday party. Guess she'll have to wait.

Why is it that I can totally love my job and have no money? And a surgeon can love his or her job and have tons of money? And then she can go off on fabulous vacations and see wonderful amazing parts of the world and I cannot. The surgeon's job is obviously very important. But if the surgeon wants to read anything, my job is important too. And actually, I have no qualms about my job. I feel it is important and I love it. I love the new part I'm learning about ordering books and I love being on the floor with the customers. And I believe we are almost equally intelligent. Almost. I mean, I could have been a surgeon. I just would have had to work my butt off. Still. here I am a bookseller who has not read Little Women, Moby Dick, Fahrenheit 451, East of Eden, or for that matter any Stephen King, Agatha Christie, or Kurt Vonnegut. And I will not have the chance to on any long airplane rides to Italy or the Galapagos.

So how can I go about enjoying life in the same way? How can I enjoy the freezing cold Pacific ocean since I can't even put a little toe in it when other people are splashing blissfully in the spa-like Atlantic? How can I enjoy EPA with it's bars-on-the corner store while others OOoh and AAahh and the Louvre? For heaven's sake I've even only been to Disney Land for 1/2 a day when I was 9. I can't even afford to go to camp with my church up state this summer because Who the Heck can take vacation? A mountain lake?! Please! Choose me!
I just long to enjoy life with friends and I take all the opportunity I can, but I end up burned out and broke. And even that is just from enjoying life here in three local Nor Cal towns.

Aiya. (Yes, I've turned Asian, also. What I meant to say was Uff-da.)
On that note. My headache and I are going to Amy's martial arts birthday party (I keep typing martian arts, which I think would be more interesting) for pizza and cake and the most beautiful thing the world has to offer-- happy children. (I'm actually not convinced that's true, but I'm trying to wrap this up on a happy note.)
I'll probably continue to "write" in the car, so maybe more later...

Have returned, and must say that now I want a martial arts birthday party too. Peter, the kids' teacher, always amazes me because he engages them so well. I've never seen anyone work with kids as well as he does. He also had my tough little girl sitting on his motorcycles revving the engine. It was a great party.
I'm home now to enjoy the feeling of a full tank of gas, a good book, and a voice mail from good friends (That's YOU, dear Choates! I know you read my blog!). That is how some of us feel rich, I suppose.

one hot Saturday evening...

2010-06-05T19:18:00.001-07:00

I wonder what perfect weather is. 72 degrees? Slight breeze? Evening? Whatever it is right now, is not it. Of course, I haven't been outside all day, but whatever it has been for the last several days and whatever is making my house too hot inside... that's not it. I'm sitting here half dressed in front of my fan (not convenient when the very good looking young man comes rings the doorbell to talk to me about measure J) reading two chapters at a time of my book, sleeping, and compulsively checking my email because I'm convinced that it's too hot and humid to even go buy raspberry lemonade at the Safeway 1/2 a mile away. I could maybe risk it soon. According to the ever-reliable interwebz, it's currently 76, wind at 13 mph, and humidity dropped to 45%. Not sure raspberry lemonade is worth it though. Maybe if someone wanted to hang out. But all my roommates are out of town and everyone I've tried to get a hold of it MIA. I might be reduced to cleaning out my closet or filing paper. Or, more realistically, thinking about cleaning out my closet and filing papers and really reading two chapters of my book and then finding something worthless to watch on Hulu. Ah, Saturday. So many things I should do and so little motivation.
Does anyone else need people for motivation? I could always clean my room more easily if my mom came and kept me company. I need to make a dessert for tomorrow night, but I'd rather do it with some company. I need to get rid of a bunch of my stuff. But I'd rather have someone to run those decisions by. I should probably clean the whole freakin' house... but it's so freakin' hot!
So. Oh well. I certainly couldn't be accused of not taking a day of rest this week. The attitude might not be exactly right on, but it's a step.

Wow, I just lost this post and thankfully found it in drafts. Thank goodness for autosave. I mean, it's not like there's anything important or philosophically deep here, but I was sad when it was gone anyway.
Alright, I guess I'll post it now. I know everyone's dying to read it.
:)

On Rejection

2010-03-01T18:46:00.000-08:00

Why does rejection have to be... rejection? Why couldn't it be, say, acceptance? Oh sure, I hear you. It sounds like I'm just dealing with names in some post-modern kind of definition. You can name rejection "acceptance" and it will still be the same thing only with a different name and then "acceptance" will cause you pain and suffering. Would a rose by any other name smell as sweet and all that.
It just feels that I'm going through a season of rejection in my life. Friends and men and... I mean, in a way things just change and it's not necessarily rejection. Part of the change is even on my end. And some of the rejection is not complete, but compartmental. I don't even know how to define the length of the season. It feels acute right now, but I could say that the season has lasted a couple of years.
On the other hand, especially over these couple of years, I can see a lot of love and acceptance. I can see many ways and many relationships in which I'm not rejected but instead I am truly loved and blessed. In fact the one who has the most right to fully reject me most fully accepts and loves me.
And here I return to something I've been mulling over a lot: the theme of loving others. I have a hard time accepting that love of Christ. And perhaps that is why I feel so rejected by others, and perhaps that makes it easier for me to reject others rather than love them as Christ would. This is the reverse approach to the same thought process I've been looking at. If I can accept the love of Christ and see my own value, I can spread that love to others in my close community and that will continue on to the community at large.
Interesting how my thoughts on personal rejection led back to this again. A God thing, I suppose.

So much to say

2010-01-05T22:54:00.000-08:00

I have a lot to say. A lot. Unfortunately, there is not time. Yeah, sorry about that.

Baby steps

2009-08-31T22:13:00.000-07:00

I do not DO baby steps. I'm so much an all-or-nothing kind of girl. However, I'm attempting to take steps more appropriate to my size.
Thus:
I have been drinking water when I think of it, even if means having a paper cup around instead of a reusable water bottle which would be much more Palo Altan of me and even though it usually means drinking room temperature water.
I have been trying to take food for lunch and thus be less tempted to buy whatever crap is most readily available around the shopping center. PB&J may not seem like a great lunch to some people but we're going for improvement here, not perfection. It has protein and is not 8,000 calories. Add a string cheese and/or a boiled egg and voila: lunch. I may still go for a black bottom cupcake at Peet's, but at least they're small and don't have frosting. Also eating luna bars, since Target still sells the one good flavor.
Finally, I have been to the gym twice now and plan to go again tomorrow. I think I've figured out how to squeeze it in, and it does feel awfully good. Must invest in a few more tank tops, etc. My favorite shorts have disappeared as well. But at least now I can be seen in shorts. Before when I went to the gym I made myself wear sweats.
Now: to sleep. Early.

Take Luck...

2009-08-24T22:27:00.001-07:00

My dearest sister has advised me (as have some greeting cards) to concentrate on taking care of myself. This means, among other things, not concentrating on finding the love of my life in male form. To this end, I've come to my blog to brainstorm (can one brainstorm with oneself?) ideas of how to take good care of myself and I wonder if it will only turn into How to Spoil Myself Cuz They Said I Could 101.
Okay, let's see.

Sleep regular hours
drink water
eat veggies
exercise
(this isn't sounding like spoiling myself so far)
a massage (more like it)
saving for a trip (spending sounds more fun for immediate pleasure)
hot baths (but this makes the water bill go up)
get the piano from A and play for pleasure and for improvement
write letters
read

let's start with that, and see how we do. Tired, so it's time to implement #1.

Sweet Youth and thereafter

2009-07-26T00:45:00.000-07:00

It is 12:45 am on my birthday. Yep, I've just turned 27 (unless we are waiting until 4:18 am, or whatever it was), leaving my mid-20s behind and entering my late 20s. Goodbye, youth.

Well, on my last day of youth I may have figured out what to do with my life. Ready? EVERYTHING.
And why not?
Here's the plan: I'll work lots of places for just a while each. For a while I'll work someplace like The Milk Pail and I'll learn all kinds of things about produce and cheese. Then maybe I'll work as a gardener. I'll learn about pruning and different kinds of plants. After that... well, the possibilities are endless.
Some people actually get paid to do this. They are called journalists. All they have to do is WRITE about their experience. The experience is called research. Funny, eh? What a way to live! But I didn't come to this out of envy, unless it was envy of knowledge. And I don't want book knowledge; it's not the same. I want to become a little mini-expert in lots of areas. For my own edification and who knows for what else. I want to know the workings of everything. National parks, soup kitchens, corporate offices, zoos, publishing houses... so much! I want to learn.
Now I just need to muster the courage and optimism. The discipline and drive.
A good start might be a good night's sleep. We celebrate upon wakening.
Good night.

ps- if I ever did want to be one of those writer-types, I'd have to learn to write sentences that aren't all the same length. Meh.

Omitted

2009-06-21T13:38:00.000-07:00

Failure! In my post about TV dream-guys, I completely left out a Very Important Tall, Dark, and Handsome character. (Though, I'd prefer to believe he is Completely Real and not at all fictitious.)
May I present to you, Gilbert Blythe:

(swwooooooooooon!)

(btw, actor is Jonathan Crombie.)

I am completely in love. With Gilbert Blythe.
That is all.

What's important to you, Katie?

2009-06-20T17:13:00.001-07:00

Relationships: God is a relational God, so it makes sense that I care about relationships so very much. This is a broad topic. Friendships have been important to me always. Men in my life have always held a special place, and over the last year I've really come to value the place of women in my life. This has been wonderful. I've been seeking the presence of women, both in peers and in elders and it has been a blessing. MC and C, J, my small group girls, my roommates. All such blessings. I've always wanted a strong male presence in my life, from E and dad and Grandpa, to my male teachers and male counselors, my pastors, my guy friends B, A, etc. But I really see the value of these wonderful women. Beyond that, my dearest friends are incredibly important to me. S, K, my roommates former and current. There is something about that best friend, of which I have several. I have expanded (or broken?) the meaning of Best.

Family. Oh, family. I often worry that I have put my family above God, and am in constant prayer about this. God has given me such a wonderful, supportive, Christ-centered, amazing family by whom I'm so blessed... and I will take that gift and put it above the giver! And I know that I will be jealous of being second to God in my husband's life... though I know I want to be second--that it wouldn't work to be first. Also, my family is crazy. Sometimes I am really mad at them. They are just a normal, yelling, dysfunctional, loving, awesome family.

Growing my relationship with God: I hope that I am always, always, always, growing. I have grown so much in the last year. I would hope that it wouldn't always have to be so painful (sorry, MC, I just can't deny it: I don't LIKE pain.) I need to be in the word more. My small group is awesome for this. I love my church for being so Bible based. I love my church for being healthy. Also, it is from this growth and my relationship with God that I hope to show love in the world, and be as Christ to it, every day. I pretty much fail, though.

Healing for the church: I have been through crazy times as far as my church background, and it has been painful for my family and those around us. This seems so wrong! The Church is a family, a body, THE Family, THE Body! So much of the hurt comes from misunderstanding and minor differences. It is my great hope for healing in this respect. We are the Body of Christ. Christians. We believe that He is the Son of God, that He came to die for our sins, the He rose on the third day and is at the right hand of the Father. We believe that God is God, the One and Only God, Three in One, that we are saved by Grace through Faith alone (yup, even the Catholics believe that. Myth one: busted.) (Also, I'm usually against capitalizing everything, I just happen to be in That Mood. ;) ) It just seems that the one place there should be more love in the world is within the church. But we are fallen, and it's tough! But no wonder the world has such a hard time with us.

Appreciating Beauty: I don't know if this is something that has developed even more since I have gotten into photography. Actually, I think it is something that I have always really valued. I can think back to long ago trips to beautiful places with my dad and remember being in awe. And I think I've always known that I grew up in a beautiful area. At the same time, I simply don't have the full motivation to get past all my physical limitations and my mental ones as well (I hate to admit those psychological ones), to do things like climb mountains and go on difficult hikes... I like to think I have a bit of an adventurous spirit, but I might be kidding myself. I was always the child who stayed indoors and read or watched TV rather than found something to do outside like my brother. Still, I am awed by the Canadian Rockies, tiny flowers, frogs, spider webs, puppies, shooting stars, aurora borealis, lichen, snow, and the likes.

Knowledge/Learning: I've said before that if I could, I might just sit in classes for the rest of my life soaking up head-knowledge. Ohhh, but then there's all the fun hands-on stuff. As long as I'm not being graded on it, I want to learn. I want to watch documentaries or travel to cool places and see for myself. Sometimes I think I have a hard time getting to the "get up and go," but I'm so much happier when I've done it!

These are just a few of the things that are important to me.

Bless his beautiful hide...

2009-05-31T00:38:00.001-07:00

I think I realized why I haven't been posting. Every time I think of something to post, it occurs to me that people are waiting to READ it! You know, the things I think about posting are just the musings you guys are already tired of hearing from me anyway. All I'm going to do is think about relationships. I'm a relational gal, with one very important relationship in mind pretty much all the time. Healthy? Maybe not. But that's maybe the way it is right now.
Here's my revelation/theory for the day:
I've always thought that men should be the pursuer in the relationship. Why is that? I mean, this is 2009! Go get what you want, right ladies? It's true that I'm completely terrified of rejection, but maybe it's more than that. If a man is not even going to pursue me, what kind of leader is he going to be in the relationship to follow? I need a leader. Believe me. I can't make a decision to save my life, so he's going to have to do it. (Exaggerating a little, obviously.) (Look! I shouldn't have to put disclaimers on my own blog! This is MY blog! If you are reading this you should know me well enough!)
Is pursuer a word? It looks funny.
That's all.
Goodnight.

My TV Type WARNING: Shallow side of me

2009-04-20T19:20:00.000-07:00

I think I have a "type." Tall, dark, and handsome. I know, it's so cliched! But, as I've been sick all weekend I've been watching reruns on Hulu of Charles in Charge and it turns out I've got a crush on Charles. I'm trying to be realistic, here. It's not a crush on the actor, Scott Baio, it's a crush on Charles. (Though, I may note that Baio also played Chachi and certainly everyone had a crush on Chachi, right?) I started watching Charles in Charge because I ran out of Chuck episodes. I'm all caught up on Chuck. Oh yes, btw, I'm crushing on Chuck. (Crushing is a verb now. To crush on.) Who wouldn't be? It occurred to me the other night that Chuck reminds me a little bit of another lanky TV man that I may have obsessed a bit over (maybe)... Ed. Ohhhh, Ed. Oh, and Ed's best friend Mike. Yes, and then we might as well throw in Mr Darcy.

Scott Baio-- Charles

Zachary Levi-- Chuck
(and hey, at least he's my age)

Tom Cavanaugh-- Ed

Colin Firth as Fitzwilliam Darcy-- the best scene too!

Seeing a pattern here?

Weathering It

2009-04-20T18:37:00.001-07:00

You've heard of Christmas in July? Well, this is July in April. Yes, we're having a little spurt of 90- degree-weather in the Bay and it's even a little teeny bit worse since I moved 20 minutes south because I don't have the actual Bay to do its thing and cool things off. According to my computer it is currently 92 degrees in SF-- 6:39 pm. Currently 93 here in the south bay. So wrong! It's APRIL! I understand my poor mother's complaints about snow in April back home, too. Can't we just find a happy medium and both be content? How about all 70s all the time? Yeah. Sweet.
Don't hold me to that, I love my seasons. I love my seasons up to somewhere in the low 80s for a couple of days. Snow for a few months. Crisp autumn mornings. Sweet spring days. And 70s in the summer. I think I'm not supposed to be living in CA. Off to get some more water...

On Pain

2009-01-09T00:29:00.000-08:00

Fibromyalgia sucks.
Okay, now that we've established that...
I wonder what it's like to be "normal." There are people out there, so I've heard, that lead normal lives. I think I've even seen them and met a few. They do not have all these medical problems. They are active and healthy and don't take several pills a day. They go running for fun and don't think about subluxing patellas or bronchial spasms. What is that like? I'll never know. What if they cured fibromyalgia? They don't even know what it is! A cure is forever off. And do I have chronic fatigue? I am not sure.
Today I came home from work for the second time in memory because I was just too achy. Actually, I've been achier at work (is 'achier' a word?) but also, there wasn't much to do and I figured I might as well rest at home instead of staring into space at the store. But I can't let this win! Last year December was a bad month. I was miserable. It looks like January is going to be not-so-great this year. And I can't just take a month off of work. It's not like I feel better at home anyway. I just sleep so I'm not so aware of the pain. But when I wake up I feel even worse. Honestly, I probably feel much much worse than anyone else would feel before they'd go home. I mean, I stick it out much longer. But that doesn't matter. I'm me-- it's my body, my life. It doesn't matter what other people would do, only what I would do and what I can handle. Sometimes I worry that if I try to stick it out too long that I'll over do it and have to pay later. But I'm not sure. Also, I'm worried that I don't stick it out enough. That I'm not as tough as I could be. And I know I'm not doing everything I can to feel my best. I should be eating better, taking some kind of supplements or something, according to whatever rheumatolgist, exercising, etc. But it's so overwhelming. And if I'm going to do my best at feeling better in that area, why not do my best in everything else? Do everything I can to lose weight, to serve God better, to be attractive, to be the healthiest, most loving, best version of me possible? And here I get into the all or nothing mind set and can't do anything. Especially when I'm in pain. And I'm depressed. I can only sleep. Which makes things worse. Which makes me sleep more. Oh, the bitter cycle. And of course, as my counselor pointed out, it's not just a cycle. It's a big mess of cause and effect. A jumble.

I can't let anyone know that I'm like this! How will I ever find someone if they know I'm depressed and in pain and I struggle with these things! Must hide the blog.

I am cheerful and happy and live in the Joy and Peace of the Lord and everything is fine. Hah!

Really, I am thankful for Joy and Peace, when they come. And when I am able to recognize them. Sometimes I have to ask to see them because I get wrapped up in things like my pain. Oh, I don't want this cup! But, I suppose, if it were not this cup, it would be another. No one gets to have no cup at all. This is the will of the Lord and I will ask for Joy through it. There is so much that I do find Joy in. It's just that I feel everything so deeply. Does the physical pain have to be the same?

Trust So Sweet

2008-12-14T22:29:00.000-08:00

We are finishing up the Psalm series at church this next week and today in worship we sang this hymn. It has been with me since rehearsal on Tuesday, and seems to be a bit of response to the psalm of doubt that I wrote.

’Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus, just to take Him at His Word;
just to rest upon His promise just to know, “Thus says the Lord!”

Refrain:
Jesus, Jesus, how I trust Him!
How I’ve proved Him o’er and o’er
Jesus, Jesus, precious Jesus!
O for grace to trust Him more!

O how sweet to trust in Jesus, just to trust His cleansing blood;
just in simple faith to plunge me ’neath the healing, cleansing flood!

Refrain

Yes, 'tis sweet to trust in Jesus, just from sin and self to cease;
just from Jesus simply taking life and rest, and joy and peace.

Refrain

I’m so glad I learned to trust Thee, precious Jesus, Savior, Friend;
and I know that Thou art with me, wilt be with me to the end.

Refrain

My Psalm

2008-12-13T23:47:00.000-08:00

When going through a particularly hard time this last year, I read straight through the Psalms. It was the only time I can remember that I wanted to pick up my Bible and read, like a good novel that you can't put down. It was a page-turner. The words spoke to me like the Word of God never had before and I think it was mostly the raw emotion behind it all. This term in my fellowship group and also at church we've been going through the Psalms. For some reason I've been distanced from it and haven't been connecting with the Word in the same way. I wonder even if I don't want to. If it was so much the first time that I'm afraid to again. Or perhaps I've just been too busy and haven't given myself the time. That's pretty weak.
In any case, the last assignment in our fellowship group was to write our own psalm. I didn't do it ahead of time. I wrote during the time that everyone else was sharing what they had written. And partly because of the rush, I don't much care for what I wrote. The other problem with it, as with much of the poetry that I write, is that it doesn't translate well from what I hear to the page. I like it better spoken by me than as written word. It's not fancy. My poems never are. It's not too deep. It's just honest.
Nonetheless, here it is:

What the heck was that?
You tricked me!
You sent me in and I came out
broken.
And I'm supposed to know that
you cherish me.

No, I know it wasn't a trick. And that
you are broken with me.
I know that you cherish me.
But the pain is
so heavy.

I deliberately praise you.
I sing and you comfort me.
I crawl into your lap and
fall into a fitful sleep.
I am trying.

But I don't need to.
You will take my life
my every breath as prayer and praise
and you will cherish me
whether or not I recognize it.

I don't know why this happened.
But you do not set out to harm and
I fall back into your arms.
What choice do I have?
I am full of doubt but you
don't turn me away.

Over and Over there will be pain and
I will have doubt and
you will prove yourself. And
I am sorry for this ridiculous cycle.
I may never learn.

I am broken.
You cherish me.

I am broken.

Yesterday

2008-11-30T20:41:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I felt like I swallowed a grapefruit. Thus, after helping Kev move stuff around inside the new apartment for a while, I was assigned the heavy-duty job of keeping an eye on the unlocked storage unit. This made me look uber-cool to all Kevin and Christy's friends who kept walking past with large pieces of furniture and heavy boxes. I just stood there and smiled. Oh, and one time I abandoned my post to carry one of those cool exercise balls up the stairs. Then I was rewarded for all my sweating with some sparkling water and cold pizza. (Seriously, who is this girl and what did she do?) Oh yes, and then I bought some music on Kevin's itunes. I am SO helpful.

After a nap (I mean, I had only slept till noon and then worked HARD for three hours) I returned to the apartment eager to redeem myself with my witty personality (which Kevin claims I have). Hah! Instead I was teased mercilessly for hours on end. Let us make it clear that hot lemonade is delicious, is not referred to as SARS-ade, and that I never actually said I would buy everyone candy if I heard "Tesla" one more time! And really, the caesar dressing was too strong. I wanted that salad. Honestly. I should know better than to bring up chickens at the dinner table, but as I have not learned after 26 years, I was forced to walk away and wait outside.

We watched Clue ("Flames! Flames on the side of my face!") and ate truffles and Kevin poured me too much wine as usual.

I laughed. I laughed so much! There were entirely too many inside jokes for one night, and I had a great time.

I still feel like I swallowed a grapefruit.

Tesla

2008-11-29T21:20:00.000-08:00

Tesla Tesla Tesla Tesla Tesla Tesla Tesla Tesla Tesla Tesla Tesla Tesla Tesla Tesla Tesla Tesla Tesla Tesla Tesla Tesla Tesla Tesla Tesla Tesla Tesla Tesla Tesla Tesla Tesla Tesla Tesla Tesla Tesla Tesla Tesla Tesla Tesla Tesla

Yup, that about covers my night.

Tell me how you really feel

2008-11-17T23:57:00.000-08:00

You know what? I'm kind of unhappy. I mean, I feel basically happy. That is, I can feel background, base, fundamental happiness. But I'm annoyed and unsatisfied. And I'd like to express that. I am annoyed at all the people I come across that think they know everything and are so arrogant about it. I'm annoyed that I'm sure I do the same thing sometimes. It disappoints and scares me to know that I can come across that way-- that part of me IS that way.
I'm annoyed that I look the way I do and annoyed that it takes serious sacrifices to change it. I do not feel like going to the gym. I can give up my croissant, but maybe not my hot chocolate. I can add water, but what will I eat for lunch? Look, I know what's good for me, but I'd honestly rather just not eat than eat something I don't really want. Yep, I'm that lazy. And I hate it. I know, I know. "Well, you don't hate it enough." "No one can change it but you." "You just have to do it." Enough already! I'm not stupid!

I can go through my day being perfectly cheerful. If you ask me how I am, I can give you the answer you want. I can tell you how I like the fall and how I enjoyed my visit with my nephews and how I'm looking forward to Christmas and how I thrive on reorganizing books even as I grumble to myself as I do it. I know these are the things I should be thinking about. Count your blessings, think happy thoughts. Positive thinking will change your day, blah blah blah. Look, I know there is truth to it but doesn't it sound so TV-Psycho-Pseudo-religious-self-help-babbley? I can't stand it!
I AM cheerful about those things. I am genuinely happy about them. I am also genuinely upset about other things and I don't like to take away from them. I am an equal-opportunity emotionalist.
In the spirit of that mostly-true but still annoying TV-Psycho-Pseudo-religious-self-help-babble I am not going to list more of the things I am upset about (being single) especially since some of them are things I could maybe do something about (my knees are really really scarily bad these days) . Instead I will list just a couple things that I'm happy about. My family, my good friends, sleep, stars, animals, people who are not mean, Jesus, the smell of wood.
There.
But just FYI, people should stop getting engaged and being beautiful and nice and smart and other annoying things like that. Go ahead, give me the "But Katie, you're beautiful and nice and smart and everything is in God's timing" lecture. Tell me something I haven't heard. I will believe you that I have the potential to be prettier than I am now and also that I'm not the least pretty person ever. That I am mostly nice but can also be pretty snarky. That I am not stupid (as I myself claimed above) but certainly have not done what I am capable of and am not capable of what others are (but you're a unique individual capable of different things! blah blah blah). And that yes, everything happens in God's timing. Darn God's timing.
Now just so you all know, I don't really feel that way. I mean, yes, I certainly do. But I fully recognize the fallibility, stubbornness, even sin in it all. Also the immaturity and the part that will lead you to say "You have to get yourself figured out before you can be in a relationship." (Another one I've heard more than once.)
Well, okay, that was just some human venting for the night.
I am going to bed.

Another disclaimer on grammar: When in a rant, one does not need to adhere to all grammar rules. That is, I don't need to. Ranting tends to produce difficult grammatical situations which require some thought and possibly research. There is no time to pause for this in the middle of said rant.

Meh

2008-11-17T21:36:00.001-08:00

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20081117/ap_on_re_eu/eu_britain_new_word;_ylt=Ap43YKmtewvrQ8sya0SKGpGs0NUE

That's right. They've added "Meh" to the dictionary. The problem? The definition is all wrong! Well, I guess that according to their source, the definition is correct. And I don't know when I started using the word and if it actually derived from The Simpsons because I don't watch that show. But I use it in frustration. I want to go home: Meh. Why can't I find that?!: Meh. There's too much going on: Meh. Apparently, it's supposed to more of an apathetic expression.
The only good I can see of this is, as pointed out by my sister, "meh" is now a legitimate Boggle word. Oh! Scrabble too.
But now that there is a dictionary definition for it, I can be accused of improper use. Do you want to know how I feel about that? Meh. (My way, not theirs.)

I would also just like to note that when I ran spell check on this post, every "meh" came up as a problem. We are not yet caught up.

Oh the Places...

2008-11-16T21:55:00.000-08:00

On my drive home tonight I saw some signs that intrigued me. And perhaps, if I had time and it wasn't dark and I was a little more adventurous and I had batteries for my camera... If, If, If... I would have explored what lay down these roads...

1) Secret Town Road
Really? I mean, sure enough, you're driving through the mountains and there is suddenly an exit for Secret Town Road. Aren't you dying to know what's back there? Is it a small Bavarian-like village? Is it like Rivendell? Is it a casino and a McDonald's? Is it a trap?

2)Leisure Town Road
Again, I'm thinking trap here. Somehow first "Phantom Toll Booth" came to mind and then "Pilgrim's Progress." Yet, I want to see if it's massage and mocha like or front porch and coca-cola like. Probably neither. Things like this have lost their original intention.

3) Milk Farm Road.
First of all, why Milk Farm and not Dairy Farm? Also, is there really still any kind of farm down this road? Or has it also lost its original intention and perhaps the closest thing to a dairy product you can get is a McDonald's soft-serve or a frappuccino from Starbucks?

One more note. Vacaville. Right. Cowtown. Both on the way to Reno and the way back, I had to say it out loud. Vacaville. Look, I know that if you have lived in this area it's nothing new to you. I had even heard of it. But doesn't it strike you as a little ridiculous? It's a town named Cowtown? I'm sure it even was a cowtown once. It just makes me laugh. Also, I would like to find the nearest vaca. I'm not sure the denizens of Vacaville have seen one lately.

Don't Look At Me!

2008-11-15T22:18:00.001-08:00

My four-year-old nephew has been saying all weekend, "Don't look at me!" whenever he wants to do something he knows he shouldn't be doing or wants to do something himself when he could really use some help. I seem to remember one of his brothers going through this stage as well. Caleb was in a frazzled state tonight and he shuddered with tears as he tried to hold together his little image of self-sufficience.
In contrast, the rest of the time the kids are vying constantly for my attention-- Look at me! Watch this! Look what I did!
I think I have to say, before I get into this, that these little life lessons usually grate on me. But as it occurred to me all of its own (or of God's own?) I shall have to write it down. You know, just in case it is useful.
Isn't this how we are with God? And with the world as well. But more importantly with God. Don't look at me! we cry. I'm just going to go over here and do this and just don't look. And don't watch while I make a mess of this over here trying to deal by myself. I know you are offering your help, but I'm pretty sure I can do it. Just go away, and I'll let you know when you can look again.
Calories don't count when no one else is there to see you eat them. Falling down the stairs doesn't count if no one was there to laugh. If no one knows that someone hurt you, they didn't really hurt you. And if no one sees your own sin, maybe you can get away with it. But God is there, isn't he? God is looking. The good news is... drum roll please... Not in a God is Watching You creepy condemning kind of way! Yay! Yes, it is so true that God is a just and fair God who hates sin and does not take kindly to his people turning away from Him. It is also true that He is a loving, grace-filled and compassionate God.

What about the other part? Look at me! Look what I can do! We do that too. This is where the analogy starts grating on me more because I feel like I'm reaching, but I'll go for it. See, I don't know about kids' motives and I don't want to compare them to any of my own ridiculous cries for attention. What are my moments of "Look at me?" I feel like it's anytime I try to look nice, mention an accomplishment, or some such thing as that. But that is for the world. For God, I suppose it is when I say, "Well, look at that! I read the Bible tonight!" or "See how well I treated that person, God?" God sees right through me. He sees my real beauty, my real accomplishments, and my very heart-- and he loves me anyway.

I think perhaps my whole analogy fell apart there at the end, but maybe this was all to be a thinking exercise for me anyway. May God use it in my heart and in yours to His glory.

Happiness is...

2008-11-15T19:57:00.001-08:00

eating your favorite homemade dinner rolls.

snuggling with your new baby nephew.

going on a date to the bookstore with a four-year-old.

November actually feeling like November. Brrr!

buying a new sweater on sale.

˙pɹɐʍʞɔɐq puɐ uʍop ǝpısdn ƃuıdʎʇ

knowing that your nephews are smarter than you.

snow on the mountains.

hugs and kisses from sweet little boys.

sleeping in.

soccer, jets, sharks, books, piano, Tagalog, and drawing.

Dream

2008-10-28T22:17:00.000-07:00

You should see how many times that word appears in the lyrics to the songs in the soundtrack to You've Got Mail. I was trying to figure out which song from the movie I had in my head, but to no avail because I think every song has that word in it. So.
Interestingly enough, it is that film that has birthed one of my greatest dreams. I want to own a bookstore. Preferably a children's bookstore. Preferably one that does not get eaten alive by Fox books or, in this case, Amazon.com.
I thought this was a cheerful little dream to have. I would get married, have some kids, stay at home, get a part time job, and then with all the money that my husband made (since we would have already stashed plenty away for our kids' college and our retirement) we'd open a bookstore in some little shop/university district. It wouldn't have to make money, it would just be on the side for mental and emotional health.
Problem. The dream is haunting me. Before I was even out of college the children's bookstore I always wanted to work at came up for sale. My English prof/adviser insanely advised me to buy it. He even had a business partner in mind for me-- a fellow alum, a business man, a shop keeper... But I was so young! And in debt! No way. I let it go by. Instead I went to work for the new owner after graduation. Worked there for three years and treated the store like my own.
In the meantime, a well-established children's bookstore near my sister's house in CA announced that they were selling. Well. What could I do, but inquire? So I did, along with my brother-in-law who would be my financial backer if anything actually happened. I inquired. And I thought about it. A lot. Painfully. And then I let it go by. Then I moved to California. I work in a different bookstore now. (I almost worked in missed-opportunity #2.) Yesterday I was whining to my brother-in-law about how I still wanted a bookstore. But the economy is in a nose-dive. It's awful. Not the time to go into business, if you ask me. Especially a business that's hard to keep afloat when the economy is great. Then today I was talking my college roommate's father. I needed advice on something in his field (insurance) and he basically asked me out of the blue if I had ever wanted to buy a bookstore and if I wanted to that he would like to be an investor in something like that. Sheeeeesh.
Here's the thing.
I don't really think I'm a business woman. I pretty much know it. I don't want to ruin relationships over business. Also, I don't want to handle the financial side of things. I want a business manager to handle all that, and all the legal stuff and whatnot. Licenses, rent, all that crap. I don't want to deal with it. And there's so much stuff I know I haven't thought of yet, I can see myself broken down crying every night for months. And that's before I get the business up and running. Let's not talk about when I go out of business! And people want to invest in this! Like, they want to make money. Ummm... this is not a make money kind of deal. Oh boy.
Do I go get an MBA? Will my dream keep popping up if I put it off again? Neither store has sold yet... dare I hold my breath? Dare I think another one could appear?
And Loans?! I'm still paying off college. And what about getting married? How much debt should a man be expected to take on? But then, I keep thinking about waiting for my life to start, and I can't do that. This IS my life. And I don't know what else I'm doing with it. Right now I'm working in a bookstore, which I actually really like. So why does it feel like I'm supposed to be doing something more? Because my favorite teacher told me anything less than a Masters degree was a waste of my mind? Because I live in the land of Overachievment? Because my aunt asked me if being a clerk was really what I was going to do with my BA? Because I make basically no money? Because I am not an engineer or scientist like every other person within a 200-mile radius? Am I supposed to continue on the elementary-school librarian track I started? Should I move back home? How can I afford to do other life-enriching things that I want to do, as mentioned in the previous post? And what about this husband?
Before my ex (ugh, I hate saying that) and I were dating I said to him "Do you want to know something? Oh, I shouldn't even tell you." And he said, "Don't then." But I told him. That a movie had inspired a dream for my whole life. That it had directly influenced the fact that I had worked in a bookstore after college and thus am currently working in a bookstore. I just thought I would come across as so ridiculous and shallow. But I'm not. And his work is video games-- so really (I'm not saying that it's shallow, just- what was I worried about?)
Stupid bookstore.
Stupid movie.
Stupid dream.

Status: Me.

2008-10-27T23:23:00.000-07:00

I was just thinking about status messages. It's the thing now, with facebook especially but on gmail too. I always have to set my status. And because I'm so complicated I have to reset it every ten minutes. Furthermore, I can't be honest. I can't write a status as to how I'm really doing because I will only be scolded by some relative or friend for either a) feeling that way in the first place or b) giving a negative impression of myself. My mother complains that my status messages are cryptic but that's because I can't say what I really mean. I say "your turn" to imply that it's someone else's turn to ask me to hang out. I don't want to be the one to start every social engagement. Yes, absolutely some of my friends ask me to hang out. Some of them don't. And it's their turn. How else will I know if I'm forcing myself on them or if they actually want to spend time with me? I say "I can't afford it" instead of "I can't afford online dating sites" because who needs to know that? But I'm frustrated about that at the moment, so that's what goes up. Anyway, I can't afford most things, so it works. But I need a place where I can say how I really feel. And for some reason my journal and my prayers are not enough. Some place that someone else might see it gives it more validation. The unposted status that prompted this particular rant was: Imploding. And no, I'm not spiraling into deep depression. I'm suffering from mild quarter-life crisis depression. And the fact that it's after 11 pm.
I want hot buttered rum and pumpkin donuts and good books and a cat and a fire. And a man. A good man. The right one.
And voice lessons. Guitar lessons,piano lessons and lots of other instrument lessons. Photography class and a little point and shoot camera, a laptop, an editing program, to write, to learn to draw, to take walks, to jog or something, to want to go to the gym, also to eat whatever I want, to buy lots and lots of presents, to get letters in the mail, to be a perfect hostess, lots of animals, a bookstore, to travel, to be thin, to go to the dentist, to dance, to love myself, to love others, energy, naps, Christmas, snow, to read my Bible with enthusiasm, to pray more, to commune with God, to have my long hair back, to visit home and have people visit me, to have friendships, to be loved--truly, to have my friends want to go home with me, forgiveness incoming and outgoing, closure, to be kissed, to live for the glory of God and be honestly happy in my heart.
You know, it's not so much to ask.
And here's the thing about this whole post. I know it looks like it's asking for something. It's why I can't post this stuff other places. It looks too much like I'm asking for something. My blog is the most private/public place I have. I'm not asking for anything. Please don't feel like this is a "please tell me how wonderful I am and how much you love me" post. It's not. It's just a this is how I feel right now post. Half my journal entries look like this. Now there is a matching blog post.

I would like to add one tiny note: See how, since it is midnight, I'm not going back to fix all the grammar things that are driving me crazy?! And oh, there are lots! Quotes, commas, capitalization, not to mention plain bad writing! But I shall resist because the point of this is not to be judged, nor liked, especially based on my English skills.

Anyway, sometimes I'm a size 10.

2008-10-24T20:36:00.000-07:00

Alright, Kirsten. I know you want me to update already. So I'm here. Typing. The question is, where will it all lead?
There's nothing in my head but ranting. I feel discouraged and unsatisfied and unresolved. But I don't particularly feel like carrying on about that.
So...
Instead I could make a list of my blessings, but I always feel like that gets a little out of hand and that I'm leaving too many things out, so I will just do that in my head.
Um...
See why I never update? It's complicated.

I could tell the world (or the three people that read my blog) that my party was, in fact, wonderful and I'm done stressing about it (almost). And that you have a gorgeous baby girl that I wish I was (were?) holding right now. And that I am indulging in some guilty-pleasure chick-lit murder mysteries-- a guilty pleasure I didn't even know I had. I just read "Size 12 is Not Fat" by Meg Cabot and have moved on to the 2nd in the series. Too bad size 12 is fat.
I'm going to be a teapot for Halloween because it requires no costume. I am short and stout. Done. A little annoyed that no one is fighting me on this, especially since I've lost at least 10 lbs. Oh well, I guess I keep losing weight before I get to go as a champagne flute.

Sorry, Kirs, I just don't have a lot to say right now! Maybe it's the headache. Or maybe it's the guilty-pleasure book sitting next to me calling my name. "Size 14 is Not Fat Either." There is a reason women pick up these books.

Eggs on the Equinox

2008-09-22T23:17:00.001-07:00

Ah, shoot. I forgot to balance eggs today. Though today my mother told me that they say you can balance eggs any ol' time. The influence of the equinox is so small that it does not affect (have any effect-- is that the correct usage of affect/effect?) the ability of the egg to balance.
I find this to be horrifying. (Yes, overreaction.) My whole life I've been under the impression that it was only twice a year (uh, twice, right?) that one could actually balance an egg! And how exciting! I've been lied to, it seems. Lied to. Again. Like how all my toys when I was little were not actually mine, because I'm the youngest. They were just on loan, you know, from my older siblings. I own nothing from childhood and you can balance eggs any time you want.

Here's a pretty good site about balancing eggs, though I have to say I never heard of only doing it only at the vernal equinox. But whatever. I'm crushed and happy all at the same time. After all, now I can play this game whenever I want. AND I see that I can balance eggs on their narrow end. However, I think I used to have more patience.

Oh well. Happy egguinox everyone.

Brought to you by...

2008-09-22T23:17:00.000-07:00

Photos by me
Poems by Gerard Manley Hopkins
Beauty by God

like shining from shook foil

Color Burst

Also, that picture in the last post is by me. Copyright and all that. No stealing.

Delicious Autumn

2008-09-22T22:50:00.000-07:00

Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns. ~George Eliot

Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all. ~Stanley Horowitz

Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower. ~Albert Camus

Celebrate!

2008-09-22T22:38:00.000-07:00

I'm having a party! I'm so excited-- I'm totally going all out. At least, that is my plan. But then, the party is not for a few weeks and my stress level in relation to the fanciness of the party could go in such a way that fanciness goes down in order that stress level goes down. I need a chart for that. Anyway.
I spent six hours on the evite. On the evite! Oh, it's a pretty great evite, to be sure. Beautiful. It has pictures that I myself took. It is nice fall colors. I made sure that everyone's names appear as actual names and not as silly email addresses on the guest list. I'm just a little bit worried about this: If I spent 6 hours on the electronic invitation, how long am I going to spend on each facet of the party? There's the cleaning, the menu, the presentation... Oh my! I've already started thinking about tiny little things that no one ever cleans and no one ever notices. I'm trying to figure out what I can clean three weeks in advance. AND I'm going to be housesitting for the 10 days leading up to the party. So I won't even be home to prepare. Uff-da.
There's also this about me: The more time I have, the more elaborate the party will become in my head. But I'll inevitably have to cut it down to be realistic and then I'll be disappointed. You'd think knowing this would help. But it won't. I'll still be disappointed. Alas.
I also feel like this isn't the kind of thing I should be posting! What am I thinking? I tell people how great it's going to be and how much time I spent... and then they'll show up and think "Really? She spent that much time? What was she doing? I could have done this in half an hour! And the food really isn't that great." Oh, the insecurity. Bother.

BUT you know what? It's going to be a GREAT party. Festive and all that. With great food and great company. So. Hoorah for that.

Empathy

2008-09-22T22:32:00.000-07:00

What is worse? My own personal grief or the grief I feel when I watch someone else in pain?
There has been pain on a big scale around me lately, with the Moores loss and with my college friends losing their baby, etc. But something that hit me really hard just now was a very brief online encounter with my sister in WA who is feeling neglected by her boyfriend, augmented by other stresses of school. I'm sure it's a simple thing and it will probably work out. And even if they got married there would be times when this would happen and she would feel lonely and they will let each other down... I'm realistic about that. But it's still painful. I can hardly stand to see her in pain. Especially when I had to see her in so much pain after her last, really cruel, breakup and now that I know what a breakup feels like.
I nearly wish empathy didn't exist. But oh, what an awful world it would be without it. And aren't we glad that Christ has empathy with us?

Discouraged

2008-09-16T22:11:00.000-07:00

I was just told by my mother and sister both that I seem to have a great social life and should just enjoy it and be happy. And, granted, I did have two social engagements after work today. I joined an ex-coworker for cupcakes and then joined friends for a walk and dinner. Tomorrow I'll be happily house-sitting with a dog and three cats! (Okay, that doesn't count as social.)
But I can't help feel losses even through all that. I miss a friendship that was well on its way to developing. I realize that she got busy with her wedding and then she got married and now she spends time with other friends and not me... But isn't that it? Other friends and not me... why not me? It's always that I want to know what went wrong. What did I do? What could I have done differently? Was I too needy? Did I only ever talk about that one thing...
And I just wonder about the cycle of relationships and wonder why some last and some don't and how some survive through distance and some seem to do well set on pause. Relationships are so freakishly important to me (I know, they're important to everyone-- we're relational creatures, as God is a relational God-- but seriously, I'm more relational than anyone I know.) and it's very stressful! And with all I go through thinking about my friendships and peer relationships and family... I don't know how I'm ever supposed to be in a healthy, working romantic relationship. Maybe that's why I'm not. I'll never meet anyone anyway. (Ohhh, so pessimistic!) I'm with the same people in the same places. And you can't just date all the people in one group-- doesn't that start to look a bit suspect? And on the one hand, I'm told that I'm playing it too safe. And then I'm told to just enjoy exactly what I have. Which is it?
Aargh. I would say that I just want nice simple relationships, but that's not what I want at all! That would take all the goodness out of it! I just don't want to stress about it.

Cop. 1, Copy 2

2008-08-10T23:16:00.000-07:00

My mother pointed this out the other day when I checked out a DVD from the library:

"Cop." is the same number of characters as "Copy".
So why bother to abbreviate it? Look at the little white label. I don't think it's a matter of space, is it? I realize that the "y" takes up a little more room than the "." but not so much that it's a make it or break it kind of character.
Amusing, really. I never noticed when I worked at library for several years of my life. I'll have to ask my library friends for insight.

Pick yourself up

2008-07-25T22:03:00.000-07:00

When you fall, I believe the conventional wisdom is to pick yourself up, brush yourself off, and get back on the horse. My question is this: How important is the "brush yourself off" part? Metaphorically I can see that it could be important. And I suppose it depends on the severity of the fall and location of said debris on oneself.
All this to say that I saw someone today who apparently took a fall... and got back on her horse (read "bike") but skipped the brushing off part.

Looking Forward to Eternity

2008-07-25T21:41:00.000-07:00

I guess you shouldn't spend so much time looking forward to things. Either you get disappointed because the thing never happens. Or it doesn't happen the way you imagined. But even if it does happen and is all you imagined-- even more!-- it happens and then it is over.

Tomorrow is my 26th birthday. I have been looking forward to it for as long as I can remember. Why my 26th? It's not 16, 18, 21, 30... No. But tomorrow I turn 26 on the 26th and this, my friends, is my Golden Birthday. Never heard of it? My family says I made up the idea... but I've been waiting for it an awfully long time. It will probably happen. It will probably not be what I imagined. And in about 26 hours it will all be over.

So it is that the only thing we can safely look forward to is to dwell with Christ in eternity, singing His praise. It will be more than I can ever imagine and it will never be over.

The other side of the coin

2008-07-13T00:00:00.000-07:00

Stressful day. Even celebratory events were stressful for me, in some capacity. I love being home, but it's always something, isn't it?

You've reserved the shelter at the park two months in advance and the parks department doesn't post it early enough so someone tries to use it too. You get there early to set up and when your relatives show up they rearrange everything anyway. Little things like that all day. You go to a bridal shower and find it a really difficult, painful environment to be in, but you can't leave because you did not drive yourself.

You get home and find out that one of the kittens (sweet, sweet kittens that could be handled by rough children and not scratch) somehow got locked into a cooler and died while you were all out for the day. As if this isn't hard enough, it has to be told to the five children. And your sister is crying. And you're sick over the whole thing.

After you're back to almost enjoying yourself, though you keep mentioning "the kittens" and have to correct yourself, your youngest nephew is brought into the house crying miserably. It turns out that he has climbed onto the tailgate of the truck and turned to jump off, only he fell and hit his head on the concrete slab. So, not only is he crying but now everyone is in a bit of a panic, and is arguing because they're worried. He is finally whisked off the the ER, but you are left with a headache (oh wait, you already had that-- you are left with a worse headache). You are still worried and tired and stressed.

Oh, also, you have a friend over during all of this.

Well, Caleb turns out to be ok, and there's not much you can do about the rest of it. But you realize that you definitely did not take any medication this morning, and it's probably time to go to bed.

Beside, writing from the point of view is only adding to your level of exhaustion.

So, goodnight.

Home with the hicks

2008-07-12T23:50:00.001-07:00

Let me tell you something about being home. It's wonderful. California is okay. Home is awesome. Today I was sitting in Taco Time listening to country music and watching pickups drive by. Even the occasional stock trailer. One truck even had a 'coon tail tied to the antenna. I felt so at home. I can tell some things have changed: when I was at the park today, I saw some men throw away a couple of Gatorade bottles and instead of thinking how nice it was that they went out their way to actually find a garbage can (old me) I noticed that those bottles were recyclable (CA influence).

I sat in the yard all evening playing with puppies and a kitten (oh, I can't even talk about what happened to the other kitten) and dogs and cats and a calf... Gosh, I didn't even go visit the rabbit on the front porch. The weather was perfect. The trees are gorgeous. My family is here. *happy sigh*

Now, of course, I'll never convince you that this is not hickville. That there is culture here, and it's not all 'coon tail-antennas. Oh well. You just stay in California and there will be more room for me here, in heaven on earth.

Finally

2008-07-07T01:06:00.000-07:00

Blogger wouldn't let me change my reading recommendations for the longest time. It has been at least 8 months, I think. FINALLY, I just changed it. So it should be current. Not that anyone looks at it, but there you have it.
Does it bother anyone else that all my sentences are the same length? It's driving me crazy.

For Kooker

2008-07-07T00:35:00.000-07:00

Kooker, this update is for you. Though I work in 12 hours, should be in bed, and have nothing to say, still I shall update my blog.
Hmmm.

I'm wondering where I've been for the last three months, that I've had nothing worth blogging. I know that I have... that many times I've thought to myself, "Self, you should blog that. That's just too funny not to blog." But you see, depression is a pit that is awfully hard to climb out of. So instead you sit at the bottom of the pit and do nothing. Even when you are housesitting, you sleep until 5 pm and don't bother to feed the dog because you are not bothering to feed yourself.

Wow, this is more incoherent than I expected. And I did expect incoherency because, as I mentioned (or meant to mention) it is 12:39 am.

Things I could talk about right now:
Chocolate. I didn't have any chocolate whatsoever for 7 weeks. I'm so glad it's over because, boy do I love chocolate. I'm so happy that chocolate is back in my life. I'm back at the point where I could have several hot chocolates a day and be perfectly content with that. Umm num num.

Fireworks. I am more disappointed than I should be that I didn't get to see fireworks on the fourth of July. It's just that I LOVE fireworks. I love all colored light, it seems. Aurora borealis, rainbows... fireworks! I could hear fireworks. But it just sounded like thunder. I do not like thunder.

Puppies. I neeeeeeed a puppy. One that will stay a puppy, preferably. "I'm gonna buy me a dog. 'Cause I need a friend now. I'm gonna buy me a dog. My [guy], my [guy] no longer knows how--how-- How now brown cow?"
(The Monkees, in case you have no idea what just happened.)

School. I want to go back to school. I complain about everyone else studying. I want to study too. It's not fair. I want to be the person in my family with an advanced degree. Problem: I don't want to do anything with an advanced degree (not career oriented, this one). Also, I have no money.

Home. Can I go home yet? I just want to lie on the couch and pet my dogs. I miss Washington. All y'all don't know what you're missing. And it's not just Seattle. Where I live it doesn't even rain all year. Washington is so freakishly wonderfully diverse in it's geography. You need to see it. And love it. And then stay here in California and leave Washington alone.

Bedtime. I need a serotonin buildup. And maybe another glass of chocolate milk.

Kooker, I encourage you to read on for more entertaining, thoughtful, and (possibly) coherent posts.

1001

2008-03-27T00:07:00.001-07:00

1001... Before You Die.

Have you noticed this theme? It's everywhere. Just Google "1001 before you die" and you'll see what I mean." There's probably even a list of 1001 things to Google before you die. Question: If I see 1001 buildings, travel to 1001 places, visit another 1001 places in America, eat 1001 foods, watch 1001 movies, read 1001 books, see 1001 natural wonders, and hear 1001 albums... when am I going to take 1001 breaths in order to, I don't know, not die?

Well, if you get done with all those lists, I will come up with some more off the top of my head for your consideration. Then I will get them published as a book and become rich. So that I can travel to 1001 places...

1001 Men to Date Before You Die
1001 Political Parties to Belong to Before You Die
1001 English Grammar Rules to Break Before You Die
1001 Celebrities to Waste Your Time Following Before You Die
1001 Starbucks to Drink Cappuccinos In Before You Die
1001 Blade of Grass to Watch Grow Before You Die
1001 Cable TV Stations to Flip Through Before You Die
1001 Facebook Applications to Add Before You Die
1001 Songs With the Same Three Chords to Play On Your Guitar Before You Die
1001 Strange "Metaphysics" Books to Roll Your Eyes At Before You Die
1001 Ways to Avoid Going to the Gym Before You Die Prematurely

And don't miss the all-in-one volume:

1001 Lists of 1001 Things to Do Before You Die

I think I'd rather make up my own things to do before I die.
#1 Sleep well.

okay, I'll go work on that.

Grace

2008-03-26T23:22:00.000-07:00

Grace is possibly the most complicated simple concept. Or it is very, very simple and we have to make it complicated because we are fallen. More likely the latter. It is very easy to rely heavily on grace, to know that you're not doing well by yourself and by God but that God's grace can fully cover that. This is important. But so are works. People are afraid of works-- it sounds like it nulls grace. But it doesn't. Faith without works (is like a screen door on a submarine...). Works show our faith. Faith is dead without fruit. It is tempting to say the Old Testament is judgement, the New Testament grace. But there is much grace is the Old Testament. When Abraham was to sacrifice Isaac-- he showed is faith and there was grace. Throughout the Psalms, though there is overwhelming talk of judgement by deeds, there is constant recognition of God's goodness and love which lead him to rescue his people, even when they have sinned greatly. Conversely, there is a lot of judgement in the NT. Guess what? We still get to be judged. By God, thankfully, and not our fellow man. It's nice to know, too, that God is consistent. There is talk of the God of the Old Testament and the God of the New Testament-- like what, he changed? God is unchanging! (Hoorah for that! A little consistency in my life, please!) No, God is not changing, it is just a complicated story of redemption. God is the constant in this experiment.

Part II

A woman returned a book to the store the other day. The book is a hot-seller by an author whose style and content I don't particularly care for. Title: Grace Eventually. I haven't read this particular book-- it happens to be the latest out in paperback. I have read one of her other books (Operating Instructions) and I tried to read either Plan B or Traveling Mercies-- I don't remember. I just know that she has a bitter undertone. And really, it's not a very subtle undertone. The woman returning Grace Eventually had bought it because everyone seems to love it. But she found that this woman writing about grace was writing with a lot of hate (her word, not mine). If I could not give a refund, the woman was going to throw the book away because she did not want to support the book or the author. I understood and gave the refund.
However, it occured to me later-- where was the grace in all of this? What grace do we have for the author? Grace and love are intimately related, it seems to me.
Then, do I want other people reading these books? What is it telling them about the true nature of grace? Remember, I don't know for sure because I haven't read this book. Where is the line between my grace for the author and my desire for truth?

Okay, well, that was just some thinking out loud. But it's midnight.

Silly Bunny

2008-03-26T23:02:00.000-07:00

Did the Easter Bunny visit you this year? Probably not. I've only heard about the E-bunny and the Silly Bunny. Question: When did the Easter Bunny become sacred enough to ban? How is the Easter Bunny religious? And not even religious, but Christian? Because, you may have noticed, only Christian holiday references are censored-- if it is any other religious observance we must be inclusive, even embracing thereof. As it is, it looks like the word easter comes from the name of a germanic pagan goddess. They thought they were taking the last bit of sacredness from The Most Important Holy Day of the year, but instead they are persecuting those germanic pagans. The Silly Bunny will leave them coal in their eggs... No wait... I'm so confused.

And I don't look good in leggings, and I've never been to Boston in the fall...

2008-03-14T16:07:00.000-07:00

So, this high school girl I work with told me the other day that she couldn't have any pizza because she was on a diet. A diet. This is one of those girls who wears tapered jeans. (Don't even get me started on that style.) Today she dressed up for a funeral. She is wearing leggings. Black leggings. Sorry, but anyone who feels remotely comfortable in leggings should not be on a diet. That's just dangerous. I didn't even know that people who wore leggings could talk to people like me. Maybe if I didn't ever eat any pizza I could wear leggings. I could, but would I?

Didn't I have a post on stirrup pants a few months back? Huh.

What I'm reading

2008-01-19T19:00:00.000-08:00

Blogger will not let me edit my book recommendations. How annoying. So if anyone was just dying to know what I'm reading right now, it's "The Know-it-all" by A.J. Jacobs. I laugh out loud pretty much constantly while reading. I also recommend his new book, "The Year of Living Biblically."

Not My Problem

2008-01-19T18:56:00.000-08:00

Today I was trying to say "You're welcome" and "No problem" simultaneously to a customer. It came out "Your problem." Hmm, not exactly the sentiment I was going for.

Take luck! You too!

Thoughts on the day

2008-01-18T22:57:00.000-08:00

Here are some things I have to say today:

Ants are amazing. My nephew got an ant farm-- it's one of those cool green gel light-up ones. I think I spent 15 minutes watching those ants tonight. You start to wonder what they feel. Do you they feel some kind of joy or at least satisfaction when they have tunneled to the surface? I actually pumped my fist and cheered for them when one finally crawled through the top of the tunnel they were making. Did they care? Do ants have little ant spirits? It's amazing to watch them communicate too. You could see the cooperate even as it looked like they were just stepping all over each other. It's a good thing they are not claustrophobic and do not have space-issues. Oh, but what if they do? See? Ant farms can be great for a Friday night.

24 hour fitness is good for being open at all hours. You know, thus the name and all that. I just got back from the gym, and it's about 11:00 at night. However, when you go to the gym at night I should warn you that you'll be subjected to prime time TV. I haven't watched much TV in about two months, since moving down here. I don't really miss it. I actually had to cut my workout short because the TV was so depressing. Four channels, all depressing. All my exercise-induced endorphin release for nothing. Crime show, news tickers, and even sports where they tell us that Bobby Fischer died. Tomorrow is Saturday, and if I manage to get up, I'll be there in the morning. Last time that meant Disney channel fluff was being broadcast, and I will gladly take it.

On my way back to the store from Starbucks today, I stopped to pet a dog, as I often do. The dog tried to eat my bagel.

I would like to learn to play my guitar. I would also like to pick up piano again.
While I'm wishing for things, I think I might like long hair again. Not sure. Good thing I have this blog so that I can ponder trivial things like this in black and white.

I just closed a Word document and it asked me if I wanted to save the changes to document 42. 42!?!? My niece and nephew must have been typing earlier. 42 is a lot of documents.

I'm reading a good book right now. A book that makes me laugh out loud so that people ask me what I'm reading. It's always nice to be reading a good book.

I feel like I'm writing small tidbits while I wait for the thing I was really going to write about to come back to me... What was it? Maybe it was nothing. Maybe I'm really supposed to be baking cookies for a housewarming party tomorrow or perhaps I should just go to bed. I'll probably think of something that is of great import as soon as I leave. And what will the world do without my blog entry? I guess we'll find out.

25-yr-old female extra/introvert seeks peace

2008-01-14T01:40:00.000-08:00

I feel like I have a lot to say right now. And I should, right? I haven’t posted anything for months. I could post my last couple of updates that I sent out as emails. But right now I just want to think “out loud.”
Today I was at a restaurant, and as I was at the end of the table, it was easy to remove myself from the large group I was with (I’m guessing close to 20 people). I moved into introvert mode, and pretty desperately wanted to get out of there. Instead, I listened and watched. At the table next to us were two men and they were talking about a woman. Critiquing her—“Oh, I could see how people think she’s cute, but I’ve been around her so much I think she’ annoying.” “Oh, she’s not that smart, I mean, her mom was ecstatic when she got a 900 on her SATs.” And I thought to myself, how awful. How awful to have someone talking about you like that when you’re not there to defend yourself. How awful for someone you probably trust to talk about how you’re annoying. One of my greatest fears is to be annoying. I don’t know that girl, but I feel for her. What do people say about me when I’m not there? (And no, I don’t want to know. Aslan proved it to Lucy and that’s all I need.) Who are we to judge anyway?
Speaking of judging, what is it about judging other people’s relationship’s with God? Okay, I can see if the fruit is not there, you’re going to make assumptions (which still probably isn’t a great idea.) But if you see the fruit, and you say you see the fruit, lay off! It’s my walk. My relationship. Things are going to happen differently. I am a different person and my relationship with God is different than yours. My relationship with you is different from my relationship with anyone else and than anyone else’s is with you. Thank you for the advice, thank you for sharing your thoughts and what you have learned from study, from listening, from experience, and prayer. I truly appreciate those things. But understand that we are different. I know it’s out of love. And it’s not an appropriate response to act out of being hurt. I am hurt. But I am secure in my love, faith, and trust in Christ. That must be the force behind everything I do.
And as far as relationships go, I suppose I should too should recognize that those are different, that they are all going to develop differently, probably even for two people in one relationship. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t so emotional, so quickly attached, so affectionate, so caring and sentimental. And certainly that I didn’t let it all be seen. I am an open book. I know people who I think are a little too private. But I wish I were somewhere in between. Somewhere that showed some sense.
I feel like I need to remove myself from a lot of feelings in order to hear God. But is that true? Perhaps God really speaks to me through my feelings. Especially a sense of peace. But what if there is no real peace? What if neither choice leaves you feeling great? Instead you either feel scared, vulnerable, or like you just ignored God. And if you are following God does it follow that you should feel scared? That seems wrong. I need peace right now. I’ve come down to CA, I’m relatively happy here. I have friends (insert new, exciting, fun, and possibly difficult relationships). My job is okay. I like my church. I miss people at home. I miss my college friends and all their new babies. I miss my home church. I miss winter. Right now, though, I can’t imagine moving back. I think about other things, like getting a master’s degree, going on a mission, or something else. (What, moving wasn’t enough change for me?) I don’t know that I feel settled here (maybe because I’m not totally satisfied in my job) but I know that it’s not the right time to go home. My biggest decision to make right now is about going on a mission trip for a year. I need to crack down on the application—if I don’t at least get that in, I think I will feel like I’m avoiding a call. If I have the application in, God can take it from there. So, perhaps before I try feeling a deep peace about that, I had better get through the first step.
In the meantime, I ask for peace. I think it’s all I can ask for right now. There’s so much unanswered in my life. I’ve only been down here two months, so I think I can consider this a transition period still. I don’t have to feel settled about it. There’s a lot still going on around me and in my life. Change. It’s not over yet. I mean, change is never over, but I think this big change isn’t over. It’s actually a big, big change. Bigger than moving down here. It’s deeper than that I think. Which could lead me into talking about other things, like baptism, but I don’t know that I’m up for it right now. Instead I turn to the comfort of my favorite verse:

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Phil 4:4-7 NRSV

Peace be with you.

Always saying goodbye

2007-12-09T00:10:00.001-08:00

under the rose tree, originally uploaded by negahdron.

Are you getting tired of reading this blog? I am. Every time there is a new post, it is about some sad thing. Today's sad thing is that Bree went to a new home. Bree wanted to be alpha dog and was always fighting with Dolly. Dolly is almost 13 and clearly is not going to be the one to go away. Bree's new home is temporary too. It is a rescue place (which makes me feel like Bree has been rescued from us, like we're terrible people) and there are 8 permanent dogs, 9 rescue dogs. Bree will go to a home where she can be an agility star. The rescue home also has sheep in case Bree would like to learn to herd something besides flying birds.
Bree was funny. She was cuddly. She was vocal, playful, fast, smart, talented, eager to please, and full of love.
And I miss her.
I miss you, Breely.
Gimme kiss?
Blech. Sheesh! Help!
Good girl.

In all my packing, I only forgot one thing...

2007-11-09T09:08:00.000-08:00

But he was very important! What will I do??

Re: Tuesday, June 5

2007-11-06T09:21:00.000-08:00

I'm moving to California.

A dog by any other name

2007-10-19T11:07:00.000-07:00

There's this little thing that has been bugging me. I come across it a lot lately. There's this trend in children's books where animals have been anthropomorphized... but the dog hasn't. The dog is still a dog. So not okay. I understand anthropomorphizing animals for children's books. It works. But then there cannot be pets. If you want there to be pets, you have to use humans as the main characters. It's just really weirding me out. I'm disturbed by the whole thing.

Technofailures

2007-10-19T11:03:00.001-07:00

I got nothing done today. It doesn't have much to do with the fact that I'm blogging right now. It has much more to do with this:
System goes down, cannot work
Files being sent out for some sort of authority processing, cannot work on those files.
Printer refuses to print.
New toner cartridge is broken.
Need a new mouse.
Keyboard stops working.
Mess with cables-- terminal turns off.
Keyboard still not working.
Remove barcode scanner.
Tangle feet in cords because IT guy undid all my twist ties.

Oh, and all the book carts are being used.
Yeah.

Okay then

2007-09-27T11:01:00.001-07:00

I think I'll just let this article speak for itself.

http://www.appleinsider.com/articles/07/09/25/inmates_suit_claims_o_j_simpson_is_hitman_for_steve_jobs.html

While We're on the Subject

2007-09-07T14:16:00.000-07:00

of articles, here's another that you really ought to read. Long, but totally worth it.

http://www.time.com/time/world/article/0,8599,1655415,00.html

A Wrinkle in Time

2007-09-07T14:14:00.000-07:00

I don't mean to only ever blog about death, but here is a very nice article:

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/09/08/books/07cnd-lengle.html?ref=arts

At Peace

2007-08-06T08:26:00.001-07:00

Rabbity Intrusion 2, originally uploaded by lynn_nord.

Coriander has been sick for almost a month. Then she stopped eating completely and the doctors didn't know what was wrong with her. So the other night while she was in my dad's lap, she took her last breath. She was such a good bunny. Pretty, sweet, smart, bunny-soft. Full of personality. You'd think with a houseful of animals, there'd hardly be time to miss a small little rabbit. But I miss her.

The Way I See It #225

2007-07-06T08:43:00.000-07:00

(This is my favorite from the Starbucks' cups)

People don't read enough. And what reading we do is cursory, without absorbing the subtleties and nuances that lie deep within--Wow, you've stopped paying attention, haven't you? People can't even read a coffee cup without drifting off.

--David Shore, creator and executive producer
of the television drama House

Goodbye Goats

2007-07-02T13:56:00.000-07:00

We sold the goats. I miss them. Look at that face! How could you not miss it? So they didn't eat as many weeds as we planned. So we never bred them. They were cute and pretty good company. At least they went together. At least they are going to be mamas and give milk to a family. Stubborn little brats that they were, they are such social animals and so comical. Someday I will have a goat again. Goodbye Hannah-bee. Goodbye Geneva Girl.

Identity Crisis

2007-06-28T10:21:00.001-07:00

Bunny ball, originally uploaded by negahdron.

So, Coriander Carrot Cake is going through an identity crisis. Not only has she just been spayed (hello, change) but we thought she was going to be neutered. That's right. The pet store originally told us that she was a girl, but Emily was sure she felt...well...parts. So, we went on with life as if she was a boy. A he. Him. Cori. Coriander the boy. Now it's Coriander the girl. This will be somewhat of an adjustment. I suppose that she has always known that she is a girl and it's really just us that will have to get used to the idea. BTW, she's much bigger than she was when I took this picture. Isn't she adorable?

Get me out of here!

2007-06-05T08:28:00.000-07:00

I need a new job. I can't stand being here! It's tedious. Boring. Ick. How on earth have these people been here for 20 years? I've been here just over a year and I think I'm going to scream. But what could I find that is better? I love my afternoon job, as far as jobs go. But this-- this well paying, easy, boring desk job has got to go. Is it the lack of variety of tasks? Is it the detail work? Is it the people? Is is the fact that I'll never finish anything? All I know is that I'm really quite over it.

Mexico Adventure Part I

2007-05-25T11:21:00.000-07:00

I missed my flight. I worked weeks to find the perfect flight and time to arrive. Window seats, short flights, perfect arrival time... And then I missed my flight. (Okay, but it was on the ground and I was at the airport, so grrr.) So basically I got up at 3:50 this morning so that I could go the airport, run around to different concourses crying my head off trying to figure out how to get there, leave the airport unsatisfied and come home and sleep. That's my idea of how to start a perfect vacation. Well, now instead of flying through Denver to Cancun, I'll be flying Denver, LA, DC, Cancun.... All night long. And a window seat? I hardly think so. There goes my extra night of sunsets, being with my best friend, settling in before sight-seeing...
But you know what? At least I get to be there. My $2000 will not have been spent completely in vain. Extra adventures so far have included calling MCI to add international calling (they're located in the Philippines?!) so that I then could call the Iberostar to say please, please, let my party know I won't be there today. I attempted no spanish on this call. Once you attempt spanish, they take off at a million miles an hour and you're lucky to pick out one word! Easier in person, but on the phone? Anyway, after about 8 minutes, we figured it out. I hope. I can only hope.
And now, I'm off to the airport to try this again. Life is so... not perfect sometimes.

choice words not listed here

2007-05-22T10:00:00.000-07:00

I’m hurt. I’m hurt and it is manifesting in anger. First it was secondhand, in a way. I was mostly hurt because someone hurt one that I love. It was personal on a level even then, because it was hard to avoid hurting all involved. But it has become more personal. This person has decided to block me completely from his life and I have done nothing to deserve that, except be associated with a person he apparently finds it painful to remember. (Which is his own blankety-blank-blank fault.) He is not just blocking me from his life, he is erasing me from it. Any footprint I have left, he is dusting away. And how much more painful must this process be for the one who was closer to him? That thought pains me even more. He is insensitive and immature. I had not thought him to be. Well, if he is such, then good riddance. But the cleansing hurts, and he is not even aware.

Pathetic

2007-05-02T09:54:00.000-07:00

This is so embarrassing, I don't know why I feel the need to blog it. Two days ago, I was watching Coriander (oh, that's the baby bunny) hop around the living room and it inspired me to a sudden episode of touch-your-toes. (Give that chicken fat back to the chicken!) My enthusiasm was so great that now, two days later, I'm in great pain. I think I pulled muscles in the back of both my legs. My hamstrings, I guess. How pathetic is that? I was actually pretty proud of myself for being able to touch my toes with such ease... but it was probably only momentum that was getting me there. Now I pay. Know a lot of people who have pulled hamstrings touching their toes in their living rooms? I'm just here to make you feel better about yourself.

Spring

2007-04-25T15:20:00.000-07:00

I must say, even though my last two posts have been not-exactly-uplifting, I'm uberhappy that it's spring. I love winter, but that time in between winter and spring can be described as follows: ICK, BLECH, UGH. Grey, muddy, slushy, brown. Late April to Early June is wonderful. Green, flowery, sunny, warm. And there are baby calves. Mmmm. It's like ice cream. I will myself not to think about the perils of summer, which are sure to come, as they never fail to do. No, I shall revel in the spring and enjoy gambolling on the farm, photographing the earth come to life.

I can never get GMH poems to copy in the right format, but here is what he has to say on Spring:

NOTHING is so beautiful as spring --
When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush;
Thrush's eggs look little low heavens, and thrush
Through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring
The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing;
The glassy peartree leaves and blooms, they brush
The descending blue; that blue is all in a rush
With richness; the racing lambs too have fair their fling.

What is all this juice and all this joy?
A strain of the earth's sweet being in the beginning
In Eden garden. -- Have, get, before it cloy,
Before it cloud, Christ, lord, and sour with sinning,
Innocent mind and Mayday in girl and boy,
Most, O maid's child, thy choice and worthy the winning.

Gerard Manley Hopkins

Pain.

2007-04-25T14:55:00.000-07:00

Pain. I'm in so much pain. Do you know what I think? Pain does not make you stronger. It just makes you hurt. I don't really think that. Pain does make you stronger. I've got a pretty high pain threshold and it's probably because I am in pain everyday. If I was just sitting around minding my own business and then suddenly one day I was in this much pain, just out of the blue, you know, I think I would cry like a baby and rush myself to the emergency room. But I don't. I go to work and I go to youthgroup and I go home. I do things with my friends, I sign on for extra things at church, I go hiking. Nonetheless, I am certainly capable of recognizing this as an abnormal amount of pain. Normally, at this point in the posting, I would worry that I'm whining. I'm not worried about that. No. Because I feel like I've been run over by a truck and while I was trying to stand up, some thugs came and beat me and left me for dead and while I was lying there I started to come down with the flu. Everything is touching me. Chairs, doorknobs, counters... They're pushing on me. Why do they do that? It hurts! This does not mean that I do not want people to touch me. When I am sick, beaten, and have been run over, I think I want a hug. Or a back rub (gentle, please). Or a hand on my arm (palms are better than fingers, thanks). Do I ice or use heat? Both? If I've already taken four ibuprofen, can I take two Excedrin? The rheumatologist I want to see isn't taking new patients. Not convenient. This is the worst bout of pain I've had in memory and I will take this opportunity to rant about it. My apologies to those reading it, but for heaven's sake-- Enough is enough, already.

I probably need some icecream and a puppy. I think it's worth a try.

Some kind of unidentified feeling

2007-04-04T10:09:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm just here to tell you (in case you hadn't noticed all by yourself) that I have nothing to say. I'm very boring. Nothing at all is going on my life. If there were anything to write about, my sister writes it first, and better. I'm in pain all the time, but even my sister is in worse pain more of the time. I can't even be miserable as well as she can. I'm just run-of-the-mill in pretty much every way imaginable. I'm short, I'm overweight, I have talents but they're nothing extraordinary. I'm a follower, a helper, a copy-cat. I know this entry sounds like I'm depressed, but I'm not. And I know that wasn't perfect grammar, but I don't care. The things I care about right now are people coming into my office uninvited, cute animal noses, sleeping, aching, babies, grilled cheese on sourdough, trees, weight, touch, and rain.
And now I have to go back to my aching, being sleepy, and doing my boring job.
This is not depression-- do not be confused. This is near-apathy plus frustration. That's all.
And by the way, it is not raining. It is snowing.

My Broken Heart

2007-03-15T21:59:00.000-07:00

Question of the Hour: Am I single or in a relationship? Those who think you know me well would think this is an easy question. I'm single. I've always been single. Can you imagine me as anything but? (Ahem, say yes.) However, if you are one of my facebook friends, you may have been recently notified that my relationship status has changed from in a relationship (insert heart here) to single (insert broken heart here).

I'm here to set the record straight.

Today I'm feeling single. That's a perfectly normal way to feel since I am, in fact, single. I just happen to be feeling it a little more acutely today. So, I was messing with my facebook account and decided to set my relationship status to "In a relationship with Absolutely Nobody." (He's fabulous, really, I can't wait for you to meet him.) Facebook then tried to find Mr. Nobody's profile so that that you could follow a link to his page and be his friend. To no avail, for Absolutely Nobody doesn't exist (there's a philosophical discussion for you), at least in the endless world that is facebook. Therefore, they find it adequate to list me as simply in a relationship. Well! That's no fun! I can't have real, flesh and blood, available men thinking that I'm in a relationship! So, I changed my status back to boring old (factual) single. I deleted the mini-feed information that was informing me of those volatile and traumatic, not to mention sudden, changes in my life, and went on my merry way. (Not married way. Too bad.)
Oh, did I mention that my status said : "Katie is single. Very, very single." What? I was just stating fact.

This evening I decided to check my email and was informed of three new messages waiting for me on facebook. Three! (That's a lot for a single gal.) And from people that don't normally send messages. And they were messages, not just writing on my wall, which meant they were possibly of a sensitive nature. My curiosity was stirred enough that I willed myself to brave our slow connection (currently at its highest speed of 26.4 Kbps) and see what the heck was going on. Well, I had to laugh. Three very caring individuals wondered how they had missed that I was dating someone. Perfectly good question, considering I see two of those three about twice a week. The third friend offered to call the guy all the way from Costa Rica to harass him for being a jerk (and some other choice words). Amazing. I didn't even know some of these people paid any attention whatsoever to my facebook page. But one little change on my profile, and I've got a past with a man who doesn't deserve me.
Well, that took some straightening out. I've assured my dear friends that I have always been, do remain, and will be for the foreseeable future... Single.
My status now says: "Katie is single. Very, very single. And she was never dating anyone. Ignore Facebook! It lies!"

So thank you, Facebook, for my first whirlwind romance and for a relatively painless first breakup. Sigh.

Dr. Emily

2007-02-26T16:54:00.000-08:00

MY SISTER GOT INTO VET SCHOOL!!!!
Okay, so I knew she would, but she didn't know that she would. The dean just called her up to tell her.
YAY!

Fear

2007-02-21T16:06:00.000-08:00

Here is my fear: I will turn into my mother. Oh, I know it's cliched. But I only fear it for one thing: My mother has stopped reading.

Just stopped! The most avid reader I ever knew has ceased to read, and thus... to breathe? Apparently not, but how is this so?
She has lots and lots of books, asks me to get things out of the library for her, even still attends her book club. (Though really, the book club members pretend to have read a book, start to artificially comment on a tiny aspect of said book, and then listen as one member stretches to relate this aspect to something he can argue about, most likely the evils of all things french. But they all get dinner out of it.)
Anyhow, she doesn't read. I suggest books to her all the time. But she says, "No, I won't read it. I just can't sit still. I only read books that I really, really want to read."
Has she forgotten what it is to read? To live in a book? To starve for hours and deprive yourself of using the bathroom because you positively cannot put the book down? To cry at the end of a book and then cry some more because the book is over? To grieve for an actual loss when you close the book?
What if, one day, I stop reading? I worry for my little customers. I sell books to little children and they love them. They read and read. But so many people I know read when they were children and then stopped. After middle school, they never read again. My dad is one of them. He is always telling us what a reader he was, how he soaked up every bit of information he could get his hands on as a child. What happened? I'm trying to instill a life-long love here. Will I fail? It's not worth nothing, I know. Even if they only read one good book, that one is worth it.

I'm starting to lose it, I think. Now that I read so many young adult and juvenile level books to keep up with our stock, I can hardly read an adult book. An adult book takes me ages and I'm always impressed at the sheer number of words on a page. Is this the down-hill slope? Old age here I come.
My sister just recently read Gone With the Wind, a book I own but don't have the gumption to up and start. But whenever I hand her a picture book to look at, she complains about the number of words. She can't put that much effort into a book. Hmm. She's at an interview for vet school today, and I know she'll do well and be accepted to WSU with no problem. But it makes you wonder. If a picture book were a suffering animal, she'd have no problem with all those words, I guess.

Ah, dear.

"So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn't it be the other way around?"- Kathleen Kelly

City girl -- Country Girl

2007-02-21T15:43:00.000-08:00

I feel the need to blog. But I really have nothing to say. I'm feeling antsy today and it's not turning into creative energy. Actually, I just want to spend money. I've been very good for almost two months and now I want to buy some things. Just makeup. And earrings. And books. But see, the makeup I will buy in a few weeks when the free gift is good. And the earrings will actually be a present to myself for reaching one of my goals in weight loss. And books, well... they're not for me anyway. Those come out of my gift budget. I've got to look at that budget again. Don't I know that technically I haven't even paid for 1/2 of my mexico trip? I do not need that cute new 9 west purse I saw. Gosh, I'm such a girl. It's ridiculous. All said and done I'd really rather be out fishing or sitting in the field with a new calf in my lap sucking on my hand. But I do like to dress up and go out sometimes. I mean, am I supposed to meet a man while haying? Highly unlikely. And dressing up for me means putting on my nicer jeans and a more flattering shirt, actually brushing my hair and putting eye shadow on. Anyway, I bet most city girls have not been tromping out amongst the cow pies in their dankso clogs.

Isn't this entry compelling? I bet you're dying to come back and see what else I have to say...

Stay tuned.

Not cut out for Urban life

2007-02-16T08:25:00.000-08:00

So Keith Urban tickets go on sale tomorrow. And there is no way I can afford such a ticket. The Wreckers are opening (!!!) and it's going to be a fab concert. (Though I'm starting to wonder what our obsession with concerts is.) My favorite morning radio show was giving away front row tickets this morning and, though this never happens, they actually tried to give them away during my commute! So I called. And miracle of miracles I got through. Me! I switched off my radio so I could hear and was all set to jump through their hoops... Oh what hoops! It was just a Keith Urban music montage and I was to name all the songs in order. Five songs. One of them was playing backwards. Do you want to know what I heard? Mud. Pure mud. They recognized my disability of not having heard the montage earlier... but still. They also seem to have accused me of having my radio on, but I'm not totally positive of that acusation because, as I said, everything sounded like mud. Ugh. So I lose. No tickets. FRONT ROW! Nope. And there goes my only chance to win tickets for the next, like, five years. Statistics would show. To top it off, the show hung up on me. Other people get things for just calling and saying something that strikes the producer's fancy. I was in the middle of a sentence... Click. They're still my favorite morning show, though.
Sigh.

OH and did I mention that along with not winning front row seats I also did not win a meet and greet pass?! BACKSTAGE people. No goodlooking man with an australian accent for me.

Wise Up or Candy Heart Truths

2007-02-15T08:41:00.000-08:00

Candy hearts can be tricky little devils. You can pass them off as nothing-- it's not like you wrote those little sayings or put them in a box so that they happen to spell out love, true love.

It is equally as easy to read into them all your hopes and dreams. If only the one you gave them to would see the significance. Hello, they're heart shaped. And did he even notice the sayings before pouring the whole box into his mouth as once? So they are jr. high level sentiments. You were just trying to talk to him on his own level.

And then, what if you receive candy hearts? You and every other person he knows, male and female. Well, still. He did include you. And they are hearts. And that one did say "true love" which is so obviously not jr. high. Then there was that one odd one, "fax me". Fax me? Really? Maybe he's not the romantic you thought. Oh, isn't that awkward side of him cute? Wait, he didn't write that!

Valentine's Day is just a crock if your single.
Only a candy heart could sum it up so well: "Wise Up."

*This hypothetical (key word, folks) situation brought to you by Necco. Eww.

February

2007-02-15T08:29:00.000-08:00

This morning I walked out to a fresh blanket of snow, and it was so lovely! I'd nearly forgotten how nice it could be. Everything was gorgeous. It was very wet snow and the bushes that line our driveway were resting their heads on the cold, black pavement.
I've been enjoying February the last few days, actually. It's not all that cold, just grey and foggy. I like it all dark like this. Yesterday at 11:45 a.m., the street lights outside my office window were still glowing cheerfully.
Of course, when I mentioned this to my liberal friends, they freaked out and started ranting about the energy crisis and global warming and... for heavens sake. I think they need to read a little more literature and not so much current issue/political junk. If you spend all your time fretting about how things are going away you will not even have the chance to enjoy them while they're here. I understand where they're coming from, but they were certainly not looking at my life like a nice old painting like I was. So unsentimental.
I suppose they'd be satisified to know that today, dark as it is, there is no cheer from the street lights. They are just cold metal posts in the cold metal world. And the snow has melted.
Didn't this start out as a happy post?

Frigid

2007-02-09T08:49:00.000-08:00

I'm so cold! Do you know how cold I am? My toes will not get warm. They are little icecicles. Last night I actually had to wear a hat to bed. A hat! With socks, longjohns, sweats, a hot water bottle, and four blankets. And a cat. I almost got warm enough to sleep, then. Brrrr.

2007-02-05T15:24:00.000-08:00

See these boots? I do not care that they are Uggs. I have never wanted Uggs. No. But these are So Stinkin' Cute.

Do you know how much they cost? $200. (And one of the high schoolers in my youth group got some for Christmas. Hmm.)

Do I want cute boots that will get all dirty and will very soon be too warm and will make me look way to young, or do I want to go to Mexico?

Well, as long as we're speaking strictly in wants I want both, of course!

You really want to know?

2007-01-31T20:52:00.000-08:00

In case there was any question as to what kind what kind of day I'm having, here is one more peek:

One of my favorite cats is lying on my family room floor, dying.

That is pretty much all I have to say.

Hate to say I told you so...

2007-01-31T13:15:00.000-08:00

Hah! It was my medicine or, actually, the lack thereof. I should say it is, since I am currently sitting at my second job wishing someone were here so I could go home. Not that I would. I'm too much in need of the money. I'll be just as dizzy at 5:00 as I am now. So driving whenever--whatever. Advice: Do not stop taking a medication without asking your doctor. That's a stupid thing to do. You will pay. You are not supposed to go off of things cold-turkey. I've gotten in trouble everytime I've done it. It makes the drs and nurses grouchy at you because you call in all whiney and then they have to make it all better. Wow, isn't this the most coherant and interesting post ever? Yeah, I'm feelin' it. Anyway, now they are trying to get my RX preapproved by my insurance company so that I can afford it and won't stop taking it again just because I don't want to go fork over $180. Hmm. ("Dizzy, I'm so dizzy my head is spinning. Like a whirlpool it never ends...") Good thing there aren't any customers in here. Or bosses. I can't get a darn thing done. Work that should have taken an hour this morning took me 2 1/2. Gracious. I'm going to go eat my warm-turkey sandwich before it becomes cold-turkey. This is not "Shut-up-Katie-Funny." I think this is just "Hush up now, girl, and go read a book."

Morning Nutrition

2007-01-31T08:38:00.000-08:00

For all the nutrition I've poured into my body this morning, I just can't imagine why I don't feel well. I mean, I started with a chocolate chip granola bar, had a mug of hot chocolate, then had a krispy kreme (my boss's fault, really) and some mnms (my boss, again). Just look at all that dairy. And um, wheat. And hey, coco-bean. Bean. That's a vegetable, right? Right.... I brought water today, but I left it in the car. I was all distracted trying to call a radio station to win Rascal Flatts tickets. I didn't get through. And now I have no water. (The water here tastes like hose water which is fine, when it's coming out of a hose in the back yard in the middle of summer.) My co-worker has given me a satsuma for which I am quite grateful because, you know, oranges go quite well with chocolate...
I'm still going to blame the not-feeling-well on the fact that I'm out of one of my prescriptions. Yeah. That's it.

Updated...

2007-01-30T11:45:00.000-08:00

So, I updated my template and am kind of unhappy with it. So bear with me as I mess around with it. I mean, I know, you all are on pins and needles waiting for this page to be perfect. I'll do what I can to please my public. Mm hmm. Right, so... (this short post now has the word "so" no less than four times).

Ouija Theory

2007-01-18T10:30:00.001-08:00

Many parts of life (or maybe just finding a seat) are (is) much like being the planchette on a ouija board. (Before you attack my use of “a” rather than “an” see the pronunciation of ouija.) Think about it: You walk into a please-seat-yourself restaurant and how do you decide where to sit? You stop and sit when it feels right. It’s the same on a bus, in the staff lunch room, in a new classroom, at church, etc. Until you’ve established your routine sitting spot and unless you have some OCDish thing about sitting in corners so that you can see everyone but they can’t see you (I don’t know anybody like that… ahem…), this is generally how seating happens. You come to rest. Hover, hover, hover… rest. The only question is: What does it all mean? Ooooooh. Next time you end up at a table with a nasty waiter and dirty silverware, or the kid behind you is kicking your seat you just blame it on the evil spirits that guided your little ouija-rear to that chair.

Whatever, it’s all theory and I’ve never even seen an Ouija board. (Not to mention that fact that I don't believe it at all. Disclaimer in case anyone random reads this and decides to tell me all about how the spirits move them. The Spirit moves me, but itain't those spirits and itain't like that.)

PS: Ouija (registered trademark of Parker Brothers), not to be confused with ouji, the Japanese fashion. I do not find the problem of seating to be like Japanese fashion. Japanese fashion is a problem all in itself.

Sleepy

2007-01-11T08:53:00.000-08:00

I'm so sleepy. All the time, really. That's not okay! Do you know that you should not blink l-o-n-g blinks on the road or close your eyes at every stoplight? It just doesn't seem safe! Do you know that it's probably not a good idea to nod off at your desk every morning? I actually get a decent amount of sleep. At least 7 hours a night on average. More than that usually. But I don't sleep well. I toss and turn a lot. My cat wakes me up early. And beyond that, there's this little thing about fibromyalgia called "non-restorative" sleep. Basically it means you sleep but it doesn't help. Pretty convenient, huh? No. Not so much. So I'm sleepy. And achy. Ick.

Not your average nerd

2006-12-12T10:21:00.000-08:00

Wow, I'm really a nerd. Why? Because I think this is awesome: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ISBN
Scroll down and check out the formula!

Atmosphere

2006-12-12T10:19:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, I like working downtown. I like walking out of Nordstrom on a rainy December night and smelling the garlic from P.F. Chang's and watching the blur of christmas lights and passing cars, listening to christmas carols play as I walk to my car. It makes me feel like a little kid and all grown up at the same time. Quite satisfactory, really.

View of Winter

2006-12-06T09:05:00.000-08:00

My cubicle, sweet cubicle, has a very large window. Great for views of downtown, mist rising from the river, ambulences racing across the Monroe Street bridge. Also great for allowing cold air to pour in and overpower the tiny amount of heat trying to eek out of the baseboard heater that lives under the very large window. In the summer I have to use an electric blanket because the a/c is so blasted strong. Now, I have that electric blanket (which works best when being sat on), long johns, my sweater, and my brand new baby space heater. And guess what? My bottom half is almost warm. Almost. The rest of me? Cold. There does not appear to be a breeze outside, but I feel it, blowing across my face. Is my top half colder now that my bottom half knows what it is to be almost-warm?
I cannot win. When I freeze, turn me into one of those beautiful sculptures, please and thank you.

BS

2006-11-29T11:53:00.000-08:00

Just so you know, when you’re flipping through a bird book and the heading Bushtit is at the top of the page, you may not read it as Bushtit and may need to go back to that page to see what the heck kind of bird that was. (Does it eat cowpies?)

Why one should always carry one's camera and know how to use it

2006-11-17T08:43:00.000-08:00

Woe is me and here is why:

This morning I woke up and the sky was perfect. It was barely dawn, it looked like a painting. The colors were subdued and beautiful and there was, glowing low in the sky, a crescent moon, with just enough earth shine to see the rest of the sphere. I took no pictures because I would have to dig out a tripod, see if it fits my camera, and I don't know how to shoot in that kind of light. And I'd be late to work.

Then, I turned the corner coming to work and WOE, for the courthouse is shrouded in mist-ery. The falls are nice and high and active and in this temperature and mist is rising, rising, high high high. Like smoke, but prettier you know. I often see the courthouse in nice light when I come to work, but oh! how today beat all.

Woe. Woe to me.

Along came the worst movie

2006-11-06T08:42:00.000-08:00

This morning on the radio, the impossible trivia was something like, "According to a recent survey, what was the worst movie of the last five years?" I disagree with the answer (which, in order to prompt you to talk to me, you'll just have to ask for), but my answer is definately Along Came Polly. That is the worst one I saw. Ever. Okay, not ever. Second worst ever.