Wally World

I feel like I can't ever be the person I dream of being because I shop at Walmart.  And not every time we go to the store.  But the weeks where we need to get toilet paper and a birthday present as well as groceries.  

I feel like the produce is fake.  Not that it's actually unreal.  Just that it seems, feels, appears to be less real.  I imagine in coming from a giant factory where immigrant workers who don't know any English.  

We buy the advertised laundry detergent and name brand Rotel.  

I just feel like, when I was in college, I dreamt of a different life.  

I dreamt of only eating meat that was humanely raised and slaughtered.  I dreamt of buying Organic food that could be traced back to an actual place.  I dreamt of a home that had style.  Maybe it was would be kind of eclectic style, but style nonetheless.  I dreamt of a job where I had a desk.  

And Walmart makes me feel sad.  

Don't read this, I bore myself

Please forgive the stream of conscious.  This post is too long.  

 I should have been better a better student.  I should have stayed after class just to shoot the breeze with my professors.  

I am seriously considering going back to graduate school to become a Speech Language Pathologist.  And for the first time in my life, regarding my academic career, I feel the need to be competitive.  Maybe it's the wedding-high, maybe it's my age, odds are it was a week in Disney World.  But I've got this you can do whatever you set out to do mindset.  

I know I am bright.  I know I am.  I can be sharp, shrewd.  I can be professional and charismatic; charming even, if the light hit me right.  

But I've set my goals high.  I am going to shoot for the best SLP programs in the nation.  I have to try.  They might consider me.  I could get in.  My mother did.  And I am as sharp as my mother.  Albeit, not as driven, but if I could just fake the drive long enough....

I feel like I'm made up of unfinished sentences right now.  If I had... If I could... If they just... if... if... if...

For most of the programs, 3 letters of recommendation are required, 2 from former educators.  This is my biggest hitch.  I had professors I knew well, I had professors I stayed late and chatted with.  But I didn't tap into the potential of the kind of relationship I needed.  And it's been 4 years since I've had classes with some of those.  Asking for a letter of recommendation seems so silly.  Would they even remember me?  I did nothing of note.  My presence in their class barely sticks out in my own mind.  I'm screwed.  Unless I go back to school to fulfill some more requirements and then really butter up the professors, I don't see how I can meet this requirement adequately enough to get into the best SLP program in the nation.  

What else would have helped: participating in a research program.  I did a few research projects that I poured myself into, but they were for a grade and I did them independently, not for the university or anything like that.  

I just.  I just want to try.  

The person above is either moving in or moving out.  Or bowling.  

I feel like my apartment complex is the home to the daily tiny dog parade.  It's kind of not fair.  I'd really like a tiny dog.  But then I think about all that comes with having a tiny dog.  Random sleepovers when you're at your friends' or sister's, can't happen.  You have to let them out at 5am.  They want in your bed and you don't want them there.  They're hairy and they track dirt in.  Accidents on the carpet.  Sometimes they just sit in front of you while you're reading and whine and you're like "I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU WANT," so you feed them peanut butter.  

We got to go to our homes this weekend.  Friday evening Zach's parents.  Saturday evening my parents.  

Zach's more accustomed to being out of the house than I am.  I finished a book the other night/ morning (4am- it was one of those must-finish-tonight books) and then was the only one awake and the story is a cliff hanger and it was melancholy and I was homesick.  I've been really solid since the honeymoon.  Like returning to the apartment, not my parent's house, finalized something.  But it's stupid.  I miss my dad.  I miss my mom.  I miss Becky.  I feel like they need me there to take care of them and I'm not and they're all going to implode.  

Zach and I have decided to train for another half marathon.  Last time I weenies out and only did a 5k.  I just was at a point with my job and planning the wedding and training that my stress level was choking me and I knew I had to choose to cut out what I could.  But this time.  This time I've got nothing but time.  I've got a sense of how I run in a race.  I can do it.  I know I'm fully capable.  

The job search is still moot.  I don't know where to look.  I mean, I do, but I don't.  If I so chose to go into Speech Language Pathology, specifically to work with children, the smartest thing now would be to work with children.  But I am not a teacher.  I've been burned by the paraprofessional program.  I've applied at a few daycares to be a teaching assistant.  It's not that I don't think I could be a lead teacher in a daycare classroom, but I'm really not qualified.  But those options are limited with the immediacy with which I need work.  So I've also applied at about 1800 (exaggerating-duh) retail places.  I've got retail experience.  

It's just, if the stars align just right and I get into graduate school somewhere, I have to really be sure this is the career I choose.  And that feels like a lot of pressure.  I have a fair amount of student loans out in my name already.  I would have to take them out again, because God knows I don't have the money.  It has to be worth it.  Absolutely worth it.  

It has been one full month since I got married.  What a wonderful day, I can see now why it is such a monumental event.  We have yet to get pictures to choose from, but I think we will soon.  And marriage is so wonderful.  I thought it would feel weird, never having to leave Zach, but it felt right.  Like, leaving him what the weird thing, not what had been the norm.  We've had spats and I never realized before how much he rolls around in his sleep, but it's the beginning of the best choice I've ever made.  

Since I'm not working, I've been devouring books lately.  I finished 50 Shades of Grey, which I hate that I liked.  I finished Insurgent, which was so good.  I'm almost done with the fourth Harry Potter book again.  I started the second 50 Shades of Grey book.  It feels wonderful.  I love reading.  

I'm at a point in my life where I could make everything change.  Or let it all stay exactly the same.  

For another day, I suppose.

Kate 

Static

It's 11:45am on a Thursday.  I'm showered, dressed, ready for the day.  
Sitting on the couch, filling applications, watching Phantom of the Opera, surrounded by a myriad of books.  


The wedding is over, the honeymoon is over, and I am still happy.  I love my husband.


But I am unemployed and feel very wandery.  I wake up close to when Zach does, maybe an hour later.  Shower.  Clean the apartment.  Do laundry.  Dishes.  Keep myself busy.  


I'm so painfully domestic.  The highlight of my day is when Zach comes home for lunch or I have a reason to go to the store.  I have become a housewife.  I even just finished 50 Shades of Grey (guilty smile).  


I revel in it, though.  When I'm employed, nothing is as wonderful as a day off.  And I have so much time to devour books and watch movies.  


Money is tight, but I want to be wary in my job selection this time around.  I want to maybe not look forward to, but not detest going to work.  


All in all, life is good.  I am lucky enough to see friends and family regularly.  


I think now we need a dog.  :)


-Kate {midst name changes}

Boxes of Wedding Things

We're unpacking a little bit more everyday.  
Being married get a little less weird everyday.


Last night Zach and I were putting clothes away.  And I saw how bizarre it was for my clothes to be in his dresser.  And my book shelf to have his picture frames on it.  
And I sat on my bed and cried while he held me.  
And I missed my mom. 
And my wedding bouquets were dying.
And my wedding gown hangs with my veil in my closet taunting me, saying "you never get to wear me again."


And I suddenly understand why people have boxes of wedding things.  Being it's so emotionally significant.  I want to cling to my dress.  
I want everybody I love to be in the same place at once again.  

Even if the day was busy, and a little bit hectic and seemed to go by so quickly.  And the day after all you could think about was how you didn't get a picture with your two sisters.  


So I stopped unpacking and laid on the couch with my head on Zach's lap with my bear in my arms and watched Friends.  
Because, I'm actually a child masquerading as a capable adult.


It's coming together and we leave for our honeymoon Sunday.  And then I'll find a job and won't be sitting at home alone all day anymore.


For the record, I'm blindingly happy.  I'm just swollen emotionally.  


Kate 

Wedding Wake

I'm married.  It's awesome.  Except I'm unemployed.

I'm still in the wakes of the wedding hurricane, but all I can say is what a wonderful wonderful day.  Zach by my side the whole time, these lovely ladies keeping me together, my beautiful parents and family.

That's why people are sad after weddings.  Because all your family was there and you barely had time to enjoy them.

I'm blogging momentarily at the Starbucks by our apartment because we don't have internet yet.

I can't say enough loving things about my wedding.

Bah!

Kate

Matter of days

Hogan Easter Cadbury Martini

Wedding: 58 days
Last day of school: 37 days total, 27 school days, 6 weeks


It's 12:30am right now.  I took a nap after school today and ended up sleeping until like 9:30.  It has been that kind of day.  


All is mediocre. 

Wedding planning is in full fledged take-over mode.  My to do list is long, what I cross off daily is few, and I am out of money for any of it.  Thankfully, I have wonderful parents who want to pay for their daughter's wedding.  
But it's fun and it keeps me busy and it keeps me happy because I am excited to marry Zach, to live with Zach, to be his wife and I am excited to have a wonderful and dream come true wedding.  I can't way to have all of the pictures and video after the fact.  
A lot needs to be done still.  But a lot has been done.  


We've found a wonderful apartment to move into.  My sister would like it if we lived in a bigger space, but this one just felt like us.  It felt perfect.  I can see us there.  It's small, but we don't have much yet.  Besides, I feel in love with the tiny door on the pantry.  


My job is moot.  It is stressful.  


My marathon training kind of fell to the side.  Well, more like, I opted to place it to the side in order to not die from impending pressures from work and wedding planning.  It was a choice and I'm glad I made it.  But I'm going to try to run the half marathon next weekend anyway.  It's going to go so badly.  I know it; I'm not ready for it.  But I might be able to do it.  Oh well.


I get asked a lot about what I am going to do job wise when I move to Kansas City.  Like I know.  Honestly, like I care.  It doesn't even matter.  I will do something and it will be different.  I might work retail to have an income while I make covenants with myself to do something I enjoy.  


But most of my days look the same.  I wake up, go to work, then come home and decompress for hours on pinterest, or talk to my mom and hug my puppies.  I seriously love pinterest.  My weekends are spent with Zach, Haley and Andrew and various wedding tasks.  And attempts to clean and prepare for another week.


I didn't pack a lunch for tomorrow. I will regret my unpreparedness in the morning.  But not enough to get out of bed and do it now.  I think I'm going to pretend that today wasn't like it was, close my eyes, snuggle with my kitty and try to sleep.  


-Kate

For Better or Worse

The shadow of my engagement ring on my hand while I read a wedding prep book.  


It's like wedding art or something.  I've got so much cleverosity.  


- Kate

It's Just the Tequila

I have to work really hard to be assertive.  Sometimes I'm not very good at it.  As a kid, I was shy.  I'm still inclined to not speak up, not volunteer, not want to make the choices.  It's taken years of various jobs to bring me to the I-can-fake-it point.  But, by nature, I am an introvert.  
Spending all day everyday talking, being with people, using my voice of doom- it makes me tired.  


Which is why I meditate in my car over my lunch break. Sometimes I drive to a near by parking lot because it clears my head to leave the school.  In my car, I can be assured there will be no one else.  I can finally escape into my own mind and try desperately to reach equilibrium before going back to work.


I think I need a job where I can silently lose myself in intent focus.  


I'm thinking about making a blog (what are you talking about-this is a blog...).  Like a pinteresty blog.  Even if only to write about things I like.  Besides, I'm really good at doing my own hair.  And I love Bare Escentuals and if you know me at all, you know I love anything skin care related.  Plus, I'm wedding planning.  It's what people like me are calling out for!


I'm kind of obsessed with this blog: thesmallthingsblog.com 
Visit it.  You'll see why.    


On another note, I'm kinda worried I have pink eye.  (Gross.)  My right eye is red and itchy.  But it's not so much my eye as it is the skin around it.  The skin around it is red and itchy too.  Allergies?  I'm not running a fever.... 


The other day I uploaded some recovered files to my old PC from when it crashed in college.  I found these two pictures that I can remember taking from when my acne was at it's worst (freshman year of college-oy that year).  I'm still humiliated by them.  I want to get to a point where I can post them and say, "here it is, this is what it was, and this is what I did and look how great it is now."  But I can't.  It's bad.  I haven't even shown Zach yet.  


I'm working on it.


Besides, I haven't decided how really transparent I want to be.
I need to go watch Friends before I go to sleep.  
-Kate

Oh the lovely

My pretty princess braid.  I'm quite proud of it.  #smallthings

The Bells

I'm sitting in my room in sweatpants with Polar Express on in the background and Christmas music playing (in the foreground?).  My bed has a heating blanket and a cat on it.  My floor is littered with Christmas gifts, homemade and store bought, as well as wrapping paper, ribbons, glitter and glue.


Looks like it's Christmas time or something.  


Santa's the best.  I tell you what, working in a classroom full of kindergarteners, you have the trump card no matter what.  


Me: "Keep your hands to yourself."
Kindergartner: "She pushed me first!"
Me: "Oh man, I hope Santa's not watching this."
Kindergartners involved and in the general region: {Immediate behavior modification}


I'm at a loss for what to do tonight.  I've got that I-want-to-do-something-but-don't-know-what-and-any-suggestion-is-not-it feeling.  You know it.  I'm consciously ignoring my to-do list and my mom and sister are out and I'm set to entertain myself for the next few hours.  I could Christmas shop because my Christmas gift compilation thus far is meek.  I just don't know what to get and I hate going out aimlessly.  I'll buy things that they may like, but with no real heart put towards it.  Besides, I cashed in $100 worth of coins (no lie) recently and so I have that much more to put towards my Christmas budget.  


I can think of about 20 things I'd really like, but can't zero in on some good gifts for my family.  Isn't that sick?  The thingness of it all.  


Before this turns into a pretentious-tasting, meaning of Christmas blog post, I'll stop.  Because I would ramble and ill focused and confused.  


I used to be way better at this. 


Besides, I'm too cold to go back out.


Zach and I are still gingerly discussing how to divide time off.  No conclusions have been come to.  


I want nothing more to please my family Christmas morning.  But with sincerity, not fluff.  I want a kiss on the forehead and excitement on their faces and approval.  And I'm not focusing well tonight (perhaps it's the background/foreground distraction) so I don't want to waste time and money.  And Christmas is in 13 days.


I also want nothing more than to not hang up my laundry.  Trying to convince myself to hang up my laundry is equally as challenging as trying to start flossing.  Why?  The laundry is clean.  Does it matter if it's in the hamper or in the closet?  I have a steamer for a reason.  
Wow, I just successfully talked myself out of that.  


I could read.  I should have gone to the mall tonight.  I can think of mostly-thoughtful gifts I could have picked up there.  


Did you know the guy who sings You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch is named Thurl Ravenscroft.  Thurl. That's a name you don't see everyday.  Or, ever.  Earl+Th.  


I s'pose I could go to the store and get groceries.  But that's dumb because my parents buy my groceries.  But, I need tea.   


Other Kate updates include: I'm not eating meat and I'm training for a half marathon.  


Well, I leave you with that.  I'm going to go seek out a claymation Christmas movie.  #productivity


-Kate

Stagnant

I haven't decided if I believe in aliens or not yet.  
I'm not going to go anywhere with that.  


What?  I'm engaged?  Yes!  Is it still awesome?  Yes!

One of our many engagement photos.  This one was taken by our wonderful wedding photographer.  Check out his website: http://matthewgonzalesphoto.com/

Unfortunately, there's not much to update.  My life is not interesting.  During the week, I go to work.  Then I come home to my wonderful parents.  I usually spend my entire evening reading or watching cools TV shows like Glee or How I Met Your Mother.  

But I think Big Bang Theory is lame.  

I'm reading a Perry Mason novel, a philosophy book on Beauty and The Death Cure.  None of them quickly.  (I blame my phone).  

It's weird living at home (still) because it's like I can't separate myself from high school.   Also, the fact that I haven't changed AT ALL since high school.  Other than I'm way less zen then I used to be.  But, really, I have been like exactly the same since roughly 2005. I still think of all the same people as my friends.  I also don't really feel like that much time has passed.  I still wear a ton of clothes I wore in high school.  Which is both good (I still fit! Yay!) and bad (I need a more mature wardrobe).  It's like a weird brain block.  It's this crazy paradox of feeling simultaneously mature/ adult-like and immature.    

Bottom line:  Living at home makes me feel like a high schooler.   

Gosh.  I'm so sorry there's so little to blog publicly about.  

Let's see....I drink tea.  Sometimes.  I still love my iPhone.  I miss Zach more than is healthy.  I got my heating blanket out.  I take a multi vitamin.  I still can't find my favorite hoodie.  

If you read this, I'm sorry, you can't have those few minutes back.  

Nothing enlightening.  

Whatevs. 

-Kate   

Frankenstein

Seal photo bomb.

I'm watching Halloween Town.  The acting in this movie gets better every single year.  I totally wanted witch powers when I was a teenager.  Do you think in the future they're going to put a label on my generation's fascination with witches, vampires and werewolves?  "Back in the magic-movement, people thought differently about the world....."  No?  Just a thought.  


So, my job.  It's been about a month or so.  I'm required by a distinct paranoia inspired by the inservice I went to, discussing the dangers of social media, etc, to leave out any and all details.  Here is what I can say:  I am a para/ autism room assistant.  I'm learning a lot.  It's actually really easy to use some of the skills I learned with my Linguistics degree.  My Classics and English experience, good for nothing, but that's besides the point.  And the kids.  They are so sweet, and wonderful and lovable (usually).  This is totally the perfect first job and makes me see the world differently.  I'm positive I'll use these skills in the future.  


In talking with my also recently graduated friends, as well as some friends further into their careers, it seems like it's pretty normal for the first job you get after college, to maybe not be the perfect fit.  As is the case for me.  


I am sick today.  I've been sick since Thursday.  And was sick a few weekends before that.  So, at this point, I'm sick of being sick.  But, I must admit, it was pretty nice to lay in bed and watch Pirates of the Caribbean all day.  Would have been better if I could breathe like a normal human.  


So, I got an iPhone.  {Insert happy dance}  I love it!  Apple products are so user-friendly.  It's not complicated.  Everything about it makes sense.  It's a phone, an iPod, a camera, a game device, a computer, a calendar.... a million and a half things.  I love it.  Now, if I could just figure out how to get iCloud on that and my computer, I'd be set.  I have a mac computer, btw.  Also in love.  Same story.  


Wedding planning is going great.  We're starting to talk to caterers.  There's this one, it's more expensive, but it has a mac and cheese bar.  Obviously, I want it.  But it's not as reasonably priced.  And it's getting nearly time to go wedding dress shopping.  Ah!  Talk about entering crazy land.  But none of it is nearly as exciting as living with Zach will be.  We still have 8 months or so before the wedding.  But I'm pretty sure living with him is going to be fun.  He's a pretty snazzy cook.  


But there's still like 18 million things we haven't figured out.  I mean, my checklist on The Knot has about 30 things with exclamation points next to them.  Frankly, we are still adjusting (adding in some cases) our wedding party.  We're trying to paint this picture of our wedding that expresses us as people and as a couple and our union together.  We(/I) want elegance, romance, timelessness, but nothing stuffy, we want it to be fun and social and enjoyable.  And affordable.


I need to go take my puffer.  And sleep.  I need to feel better by tomorrow, because I know how much it sucks to be short a man and try to get through the day.  


-Kate 

Shoulder Shrug

Judge me.
I really like the Duggars.

Resource Room

Sometime, I swear I will update you on my brand new job.

It's brilliant and so holy.  I am making childrens' lives better.  I am making my own life better.

It is extremely hard and a little bit scary, but those are both good things.

There hasn't been a day yet that I haven't had to stop my self from sobbing in my car on the way home.  But, after all, it has only been my first week.

I will adjust.

-Kate

102- September 11

I think I should blog today.
About September 11th.


It's been 10 years.  I was 12.  In Kansas.  
And it still hurts more than anything to relive.  


Tuesday, September 11th, 2001 I was in 7th grade.  In Orchestra.  And my teacher, before we started class said something along the lines that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center, we didn't know if it was an attack or a mistake, but he just wanted to let us know.


I don't remember anything about the rest of the school day except that none of my teachers let us watch it on TV.  What a crock is that?


My next flashbulb is being at home at like 3pm sitting on my couch watching the replaying of all the footage on the news.  And sobbing.  Because, although I was young, I understood what was lost.  


Moms.  Dads.  Grandmas.  Aunties.  Neighbors.  Friends.  Sisters.  


People.  People who wouldn't return to their families.  Their puppies.  They probably had mail waiting to be sent.  They had journals that documented unfinished hopes and dreams.  


And I sat on the couch sobbing.  I don't remember where my sisters were.  But I do remember Tracy and I running to my mom's arms when she came home from work.  We were halfway on the stairs.  She met us halfway up the stairs.  


I remember she was supposed to fly the next weekend and one of the first things she told us was that she wouldn't be leaving.  


I remember in the days after my dad sitting on my bed shaking his head and saying we were probably going to go to war and it's likely that it would go on long enough that some of my friends would have to go.  And I remember thinking, "no way, I'm too young."  


Every anniversary after, I've turned off the TV.  I change the radio station when they talk about it.  For 10 years, I've avoided it.  The pain.  The emptiness.  


This year I watched it.  I thought I owed it to them.  To not pretend; not avoid.  


History Channel had this showed called "102 Minutes That Changed America."  Watch it.  It's hard.  You'll probably cry.  


But it's a really enlightening look at how it felt to be there that day.  
You see the faces of the firefighters who walked towards the towers.  The ones who you know didn't come back.
You hear the voices of the people trapped on the upper floors calling for 911.  You hear 911 telling them to stay put.  
You close your eyes as a tear falls when you see the people jump.  
You catch you breath when you see the clouds of smoke from the first tower falling.  


So here I am thinking about that loss.  That awful, mean, horrible, excruciating, terrifying loss.  


And also trying to figure out what it means to be American.  
Land of the Free, Home of the Brave.  United We Stand.  Proud to be an American.  Pledge of Allegiance.  


Those all have to mean something.  
But there's been so much anger.  Blame.  People celebrated when Osama Bin Laden was killed.  
I don't understand.  Not like, "how could they do that; it's still a death."  That's not what I mean.  


I literally don't understand.  I don't even know what I don't understand.  How I feel.  What is right.  My patriotism.  
I want to win.  But I want to be fair.  I value life.  


It's been 10 years.  And I know I can't do this next year.  I didn't post a picture, because I knew whatever it was, it would hurt to look at it again.  


In another 10 years, I will open this box again.  


Kate

Gravity

I need to say some things.
Moving home is hard.  


I thought moving back to my parents house would be nothing but awesome.  I'd have time.  I'd have fun.  I'd be provided for in every way, shape and form.  And, in so many ways, it really is.  I am very grateful to be living in my parents house.  My sister is awesome.  With a seven year age gap, she was only 10 when I moved out.  I don't know if I've ever had such an opportunity to bond with her.  And my parents are wonderful.  Funny, easy going, self less people.


But post-graduation is hard.  I'm sure it's a common feeling.  I know many of my friends have felt/ are feeling it.  It's the weirdest I think I've ever felt for such an ongoing period of time.  It's not always bad.  In fact, sometimes it's really good.  But it's always weird.  


First of all, career?  What?  No.  


I live in my parents' basement.  I thought I'd have all this time this past summer to organize it and make it my own, but 3 months later, I have not.  I was ambitious at first; I rearranged all the furniture, unpacked all my books and set them up in the bookcase.  But it's reached a point where I cannot move forward.  Though boxes sit unpacked and it never looks anything but cluttered, I cannot do anymore.


Because the basement was once my grandmother's apartment.


I don't miss my grandma (I think I'm incapable of understanding the whole "grandparent" thing).


But I've reached a point where I can't move myself in anymore, because she is not moved out.  In the corner sit a stack of home movies on VHS.  In front of the fire place are boxes of pictures.  In the cabinets are mugs and appliances that could still potentially be useful.  The closet is half full of clothes that are not mine.  The cedar chest at the end of the bed is full of grandma bedding.  The window sill is lined with her snow globes and figurines.  Art work she loved is still all over the walls.  The counter still has weird plates I don't know what to do with.  On top of the cedar chest is a baby doll that was once my mother's.  


Plus the walls are light pink.  


I feel like the space can never be mine.  I don't know if it ever could be.  It'll always be the cache for things nobody really knows what else to do with.  I wonder everyday if this is what it'll feel like until I move out again.  


And on top of that, inside many of my unpacked boxes are things that I don't know how they could be useful in my house now.  Decorative baskets that once held fruit.  Vases.  Art I had hanging in my bathroom.  Shower curtains.  Baking sheets.  Stuff that isn't useful at my parents house.  My parents don't need another shower curtain.  Or baking sheets.  A knife set.  
Where is that stuff supposed to go?  


I think I've literally filled up all extra storage space.  In my defense, it was borderline full before I moved home.  The garage has reached it's max, the shed is full.  The attic.  Eh.  I've even designated cabinets for stuff I just want out of the way.  They're all full.  


My house was not ready for me to move home.  


So "my room" stays not mine.  It is not clean.  I cannot clean it.  The things are not mine to throw away.  There is no place for them to go.  


All this really boils down to is moving back means lack of control. 
I don't control my space.  


I don't control my diet.  I never plan on feeding myself, since normally I'm not expected to.  So when my mom calls on her way from work saying she's popping in and then driving on to Lawrence to hang out with my other sister, I'm so frustrated.  If this was my kitchen, I'd have supplies to cook food I like.  It is not my kitchen.  I don't want to make a meal out of egg rolls and green beans.  I eat out far more than I did on my own.  Not complaining, necessarily, since I never really could afford it much before.  


Until recently, I haven't had a job, so I haven't been able to control my independence.  If I needed new shampoo, I was at the mercy of my parents to take a trip to Walmart.  


This is normal, I know it is.  But it doesn't make it any easier.


I'm not used to living like this.  And it's just as much fun as it is not fun.  


And I want to live here.  I love my family.  My puppies.  I'm getting married in 8 or 9 months and want this opportunity to spend as much time with them as possible.  


But I recognize it's at the sacrifice of a feeling of adulthood and independence.  


And I think living here might be making my transition into marriage somewhat harder.
But I am not in a financial position to support myself.  At 22, that's ok.  But I think it'd be so stupid for me to move into my own apartment.  Although really FREAKING fun, it's not worth the $500 a month or so that I'm not required to spend now.  


So here I am.  Sitting in mom's living room, blogging for the second day in a row (you lucky ducks, aren't I so interesting?).  


And while I'm pouring out my heart and soul, can I just say "blogging" is a grow up word for "diary-writing-for-the-general-public."  


I'm going to be fine.  Having a full time job while help with my sense of independence and maybe inspire my mom to help me organize the basement.  Maybe not, but either way it'll work out.


Also while soul-pouring, I keep getting overwhelmed about my wedding.  The thought of being the center of attention for hours is starting to freak me out.  Which is why my beautiful/ handsome bridesmaids are wonderful.  Apart from hour long phone conversations keeping me from falling to pieces, I know they're going to be my support team the day of.  And that makes me feel better.


Do I feel better after letting this all out?  
We'll see.  
But this was not on my to do list.
And I'm hungry.  And responsible for feeding myself.


You know what I really need?  I need to get back into mentally stimulating reading.  I went through a bout of fiction this summer.  It was good.  (I recommend Divergent!)  But I need to read some non-fiction about the human condition.  


Sigh.  Gravity.


I feel the need to say, "you're welcome."  


Kate

Blue

It's like an itch I just can't reach.

I'm nearly squirming.  

I don't know what I want. 
Which, in theory, makes it feel impossible to be happy.


I've been rereading all of my diaries.  I started journaling in like 1999.  
If this idea ever enters your mind, don't do it.
You just relive everything.  Everything that was wonderful - you miss it.  Everything that made you feel terrible - still makes you feel terrible.


Plus, my entries were so stupidly stupid, I couldn't even stomach reading myself until I got to like 2004.  


Tuesday I had two interviews and.............

 a facial peel!

See that line down my face?  That's a freaking tear streak.  

This is called an Obagi Blue Peel.  I had it done in order to improve acne scars left over from freshman year.  I've been debating it for like, 2 years now.  And I did it.  They put blue chemical on your face.  The dermatologist said, "it'll sting."  What he should have said was, "it'll feel like you're dying, but it'll be really really brief."

Anyway, that's what it felt like.  

The last few days, the blue has faded, my skin has felt SO tight and then peeled off (gross, I know).  It's real red right now, but I think it'll look great.

Oh, and I got hired.

But I don't feel happy.  

But, I don't really know why.  I sound like I'm 15.  

I roll my eyes at myself.

Is it living at home, missing seeing friends, maintaining relationships, trying to plan my wedding, not seeing Zach but for once or twice a week, money, feel out of control most of the time?

Yes.

But, hey, technically I'm employed full time now, so I'm going to pretend like this 3 day weekend is somehow different than the last month or so and soak up my free time or something.  

Ok, whatever. 

Blog post done.

Retrain

I was almost doing really well.  My circadian rhythm is nonexistent these days.  
Tonight I tried.  I'm having breakfast with a great friend bright and early in the morning before she flies back to chi-town.   
At about 11 I took a nice bath. 
By midnight, I was tucked into bed.  No computer on, no movie playing.  I read a book for a while and then turned off the light and got on my Nook.  Then after an hour and a half or so of reading Water for Elephants, I clicked off my Nook and snuggled into bed.  
Ahhh, sleep.
Elusive sleep.
I'm actually mostly healthy, other than this.  I take various vitamins since I paused my meat eating, I drink a ton of water, I walk/ jog for 30 minutes pretty much daily.  But regular sleep is so imperative, that without it, I'm really not healthy at all.  
So, naturally, I googled "i can't sleep what should i do."  A few sites have said if you can't sleep after 30 minutes or so, get out of bed.  Something about associating the bed with not sleeping la la la.  
So here I am.  Blogging.  And watching Friends, Season 8. Actually, Season 8, the Thanksgiving episode- one of the better ones.  I freaking love this show.  
TV and computer, two things the sites also say to avoid.  
But they do suggest getting your thoughts out of your head.  

The other day I was watching this show on TLC about obsessions, or collectors or something like that.  It's not Hoarders; that show freaks me the heck out.  No, like, seriously.  I turn it off.  And throw away everything within my line of sight.  

But it's the same concept.  People's lives becoming consumed by things.  

There was this woman who had like thousands and thousands of shoes.  Like miniature shoes, shoes for your feet, earring shoes, breakfast in the shape of a shoe....stuff that I think is tres loco.  

But we can't be that far off.  I mean, everybody has their something, right?

A few years ago, right after my grandma died, I wondered if when she was in her hospital bed, she thought of her things.  It was one of those freeze-where-you're-standing realizations.  What if I'm on my death bed thinking of my things?  

The woman who loved shoes, she said when she died, she was going to be surrounded by shoes.  What did she mean?  What could she possibly have meant?  Does she think when she dies, she'll go to a heaven of shoes?  Or does she imagine that she'll be buried, it'll be a coffin with shoes?  And the bigger question: Why?  

Another woman was obsessed with dolls.  She said it was because she had such strong maternal instincts.  My initial response is, then be around children.  Like ......real children.  This woman takes care of these dolls, rocks them to sleep, gives them binkies, strokes their hair.  I imagine her channeling that maternal instinct, like, volunteering with babies.  Reading stories to them.  Or at least be a Duggar.  

Why does this show irk me so much?  (Yes, I just said irk.)  

For like 18 million reasons.  But here are 5

1. With the money they've spent on these collections- they could have paid for years of my college education.  Or at least my wedding.  
2. These people have isolated themselves. 
3. They could channel their passion into something really societally productive.
4. The doll collection CREEPS me the eff out.  
5. They're missing something.  By being uncontrollably obsessed, they are missing face time with people. 

On another note, I need to stop chewing on my lip.  It's gettin Black Swan up in here.

On another nother note, I don't think I've lost any weight.  However, I have bought a few shirts a size larger than I normally wear so my body thinks it's lost weight and it is so happy about it.

I'm trying to sort out weddingness.  There should be a handbook.  Not like a white, swirly writing, plan-your-wedding-in-this-book, here's a smiley face book.  Like a real, vulgar, honest, hang on girl-this shit's gonna freak you out-but in the end, it's all about love-but seriously, stop reading love stories/ watching those darn movies book.  

Have I found a job?  No.  Has it even been a month?  Yes, I month to the day.  Do I like it?  Mostly no.  Is the house clean?  Yes.  

What?  Kate can't find a job?  

Go ahead, laugh. 

Next, let's see how I did with my summer reading list. 

Harry Potter Series 

-Currently reading book 4.  Didn't exactly make it through the series in the summer.  

Ender's Game

City of Bones 

Perfect Chemistry

The House of the Scorpion

Divergent

The Book Thief

Not too shabby.  

Plus Water For Elephants.  

Ok, I'm going to finish this episode of Friends and then go to sleep.   

I know I'm up too late when I'm hungry again.  

I feel like Bridget Jones.

-Kate