Hiatus

Yes, sadly, I am going on a 2 week hiatus, and I am leaving my computer behind. But the best part of this little vacation... I will be back! I will probably have plenty of inspiration too, and you will hear all about what the heck I've been up to, maybe even see a few pictures. I am bringing a notebook so I can write still, but I will miss you all dearly.

But for now, I thought I'd give you all "A Little Something Sweet" to savor while I'm away. This is a poem that I wrote just over a year ago, and it was written in the shape of a cupcake, so you'll just have to imagine that. Here it is: A Little Something Sweet.

A bit of cotton candy
A trifle of chocolate
Is worth keeping handy
For when my heart is beat.

Because a little something sweet
Is sometimes all you need
To make a rainy day puddle wonderful
And put your heart at bay

A spoonful of sugar really does help the medicine go down
When you're sick of life
And there's no one around
And the best perscription is to take up a knife...

And cut a bit of cake.

Because remember, life is all about what you make
And the last time I checked
Lemonade was a bit sweeter than lemons to take.

Love you all!
~Kat

Little Freaks

This was me at age nine, and this was how I showed excitement. I would open my jaw as far as it would go, form a double chin, and stand on my tip-toes, arms stick straight by my side. I don't know why I did it, I always have, and sometimes when I am really excited I still feel a strong urge to do it. It took all my might to not make this face at Sarah Kay.

I was a little freak as a child. I used to make this face, I used to crawl around my elementary school on all fours barking because I wanted to be a dog. At recess I would usually prefer to talk with the teachers supervising than the kids my age. I used to pick apart snails with sticks and do "surgery" on them. I was determined I knew what I was doing and would assign body parts to the different little snail bits; "Here's the heart, the bladder, the intestine, etc." I used to walk around Extended Day Care with a dinosaur walk, T-Rexin' my arms, bobbing my head, and snapping my jaw.

The list goes on, unfortunately. But yea, I was totally a little freak. Somewhere along the way, these things became a part of my past and my present did not contain such silly mischief. But honestly, I kind of miss it. I was free to be whatever I wanted, whether that be Snail-Surgeon General, a dog, or a dinosaur.

I know I'm not the only one that was a freaky child, I know someone else that used to walk around with dinosaur arms, too. And I bet you that person still has urges to revert back to their dinosaur days. And really, nothing that we do can ever get rid of our freaky selves. When I started high school, I was ready to start fresh because nobody knew me. I was "free" to do whatever I wanted, be whoever I wanted. The real me, that freaky little girl in the picture, was trapped inside the V-necks and Pointer gear. She was stashed away into my closet with the rest of the skeletons.

But here she is again. I combed through boxes of pictures to find her. I want people to know her, to know me. I'm having fun again, real fun. Fun that's free. Free to be a freak.

This girl never left me. She was always with me every day. She's a part of who I am. And the reason why I'm okay with her now, is because to those of you reading this, who know me pretty well, this probably isn't a surprise. It's not a surprise because I was never truly able to let the freak go. And I never freaking will. And guess what? I will still have friends tomorrow. So whoever said that nobody will like you if you're a freak was wrong. The strongest example of this: Danny Herrera, everyone still loves him.

If your "friends" do care, they aren't true friends. People that mind don't matter, and people that matter don't mind.

So give live free you little freak.

Freckled, Faulty, and Freaky Free
~Kat

Baby Steps

Everyone has to start somewhere, and most of the time the place where we start is rock bottom. No writer begins their first piece in media res and does it correctly, mine was atrocious. No pianist does Chopin for their first recital, mine was "Up on the Housetop", it was two measures long and I messed up more than a few times. No person begins their journey with love as eloquently as Romeo. Most of us begin the journey not even knowing how to recognize love. I know I still can't most of the time.

So if we don't blame the newborn baby for not being able to hold its own head up, why do we get so down on ourselves when we can't do other things right away?

I had another piano recital tonight. I've been playing piano for eleven years, having recitals at least twice a year, so this would be about my twenty-second recital. The first one was "Up on the Housetop" and this one was Chopin's Prelude No.4 in E minor. I've crossed a lot of ground since then. But it's not the applause after I finish a song that is the most memorable for me about recitals, although it definitely is good to know the audience enjoyed it as much as I did. It's the beginning pianists that inspire me the most. They don't yet have their "footing" with the piano, awkwardly trudging along. They have to pause frequently and go back, take a deep breath, and jump back into it. Let me tell you, that is the hardest thing to do. But all these kids, these tiny tikes with pint-sized piano hands and big shining eyes, can brush it off and finish what they started. When they do finish, they get a roaring applause and the biggest grin stretches across their faces. This was me not too long ago, as well. We made it through.

This is something we all can learn from. We all are going to have to mosey on through and stop and start again. Your first essay is not going to have smooth transitions and perfect grammar, your first kiss will not be glamorous. My first kiss, the guy missed my mouth and kissed my nose. But he went for it again and made it. It was gloriously awkward. The first shot at love could very easily be shot down. But through it all, after every missed-kiss, we trudge on. We get back up, we finish what we started. It's a part of life.

But the great thing about failing (yes, you just read that correctly) is that there's always a chance to prove yourself again. And if you're lucky enough to mess up a lot in the beginning, the rest is smooth sailing, because there isn't anything left for you to screw up. Heck, we are all screw ups.

Screwing up is another one of those things we pretend never happens, like poop. But like poop, everyone screws up. Stephen King has a box full of every rejection letter he ever received. He'd been writing and sending stuff in since he was in high school. He didn't get published until he was already married, and his first book was a best seller. He's one of those people that screwed up so much at the start, there was nothing left. And it shows, most of his books are best sellers. He never misses anymore.

So hold your head up, you babies! (Pun intended). Let's screw up together, and then talk about our screw ups. At the very least we can make someone else laugh, at its best we can make someone feel like they're not alone.

Much love and missed-kisses
~Kat

P.S. I love the village idiot ;)

Love.

Nothing is coincidence. Today was beautiful, and none of it was random. Fate dropped us right where we needed to be. We may not always realize it, but there are some moments when the veil is lifted, the crud is scraped from our eyes, and we see the world and the people around us with all the beauty they entail, and nothing less. These are the moments where we can feel infinite, we try to savor the taste of it in our mouth, and soak up as much of it as we can before it crumbles away.

Today was perfect. Today was raw, real, and cleansing. Today was eye opening. Today is a day we will hopefully not forget because today, magic happened.

Right now, I can't know what this day will inspire, who this day will inspire. But I know it did inspire. I can't know where we will go from here, who will be set free, and who will change their ways. But I know some ankles and wrists were unshackled today. Shackles that might have otherwise been left to rust. It didn't take brute strength, pliers, or saws. It took the undressing of old wounds, the sharing of battle scars, getting naked and being vulnerable.

Everyone has a story to be shared. Everyone has a lecture to be learned. Bad and good things will happen in our lives, and they don't happen just for shits and giggles.

If someone had backed out of sharing their story today, today wouldn't have had the impact it did. I know I will never forget what I learned, I will continue to be inspired by the people that were "randomly" dropped into my life. And I will forever be at a loss of how to thank these people. I know this post was all very vague and all over the place, but that's because I'm still letting it marinade. Hopefully after a few days I will be able to properly put my thoughts down and do it justice, but until then, you get the word squirts. Today was not about me or my writing anyway. It was nothing I could have ever produced from my mere fingertips. And I can't express how humbling and wonderful that is.
Love,
Kat

Poop and Periods

If that PP that I spilled up in the title box makes you uncomfortable, well then too bad, I'm not cleaning it up. Not until we talk about it. Personally, I have no problem talking about the movements of my body. Maybe it comes from having a nurse as a mother, but it just doesn't gross me out or embarrass me. The thing is, the entire human population poops every day. Half of the entire human population has periods every month. Why does society tell us that we should be embarrassed or grossed out by something that happens to everybody? It's not like we are the only people clenching our butts and plugging our flow. Happens to the best of us. One Direction, the President, even someone as fabulous as Audrey Hepburn poops. It's kinda funny if you think about it. Imagine another daily activity that we have to do, like eating, and being embarrassed about it. Trying to hide that we are chewing a peanut butter and jelly. Maybe we would even refuse to eat anywhere else besides our house. How weird and pointless would that be?!

I understand that although I'm all about challenging social norms, I'm not about to talk about my cycle and bowel movements with my boss or the Queen of England. But I do think we should be able to talk about it with our peers, or at least acknowledge that it happens. I'm tired of having to clench my butt if I have to fart during class, and then pretending like it wasn't me if I failed to suppress it. I'm especially tired of having to discover new covert ways to cover up the obvious fact that I'm going to the bathroom to change my tampon. We all know that when I take my whole backpack to the bathroom that's what I'm doing. It's especially inconvenient when I don't have a tampon, and need to sneak around and ask people under my breath.

So I'm going to try to be open about my bodily functions and not be embarrassed any longer. Yes, I did just fart. No, I was not "sick" on Monday, I wanted to let my uterine lining shed in peace. It was a great 28 days I had with it, so what if I cry a little and need a day off? The next time I'm at school and need to leave class to change my tampon, I am not going to bring my entire backpack, because ain't nobody got time for that. I am going to take out my tampon, slip it behind my ear, and go.

C'mon ladies, own it. We can start a movement.

~Kat

P.S. Guys should get comfortable with this stuff too. They will have to live with us the rest of their life, might as well begin to understand it now. And ladies, ultimate way to test if your guy friend is true: talk about your period. If they can float with the conversation and be cool, they're a keeper. Alex, you pass.

This is Personal.

That is my first attempt at a personal statement. It's a statement, and it says "this is personal." Get it? I have to confess I was pretty proud of myself for coming up with this witty pun. But a witty pun would not suffice in the mind of a college reader, so here is my second attempt:

Tell us about a personal quality, talent, accomplishment, contribution, or experience that is important to you. What about this quality or accomplishment makes you proud and how does it relate to the person you are?

People tell me I am a kind person. But really I am just a time-traveler, teleporter, and body-swapper. I have perspective, and this has become my most vital quality because without it, I couldn’t do any of the things that are most important to my life. I wasn’t born with this ability, so like most things; it started with a big bang. More like a crash. Of the stock market, that is. When the Great Recession began, my dad’s local business magazine (who’s biggest advertisers were bankers and real estate agents) quickly started to plummet. This was not unusual, lots of people were hurting, but as a twelve year old I didn’t have a perspective wider than that of my personal bubble. When I would ask my mom for things we normally could’ve afforded, and she would tell me no over and over again, I couldn’t understand why. Exasperated she finally said, “Look at it from my perspective. We just had to buy another house because we couldn’t afford our old one. We’ve been trying to sell our old one for almost a year, paying two mortgages. Your dad has no income, I’m working overtime. There is no extra money. No.” This began the shift from knowing nothing about the “grown-up stuff” to needing to know all about it in order to understand. I finally started seeing different perspectives other than my own.

Everyone has a story, and this realization started to infiltrate my daily activities. This began the body-swapping days. If my teacher was yelling at us, I would try to put myself in her shoes. She has kids of her own, doesn’t make very much money, she could have had a bad morning; I’ll be extra nice to her today. She would do that for me. By getting into the habit of thinking like this, how I treated everyone started to change for the better. This came in handy later when junior year my fellow members of poetry club at school got in a misunderstanding with our advisor and began giving him the cold shoulder and not showing up. Because of my ability to see perspective, I saw the problem for what it was (a misunderstanding) and was able to start to mediate the conflict. This “body-swapping” as I call it led to the kindness that people see in me and the belief that because everyone has a story, there is something to be learned from everyone.

The time-traveling started when I was six and was put into piano lessons, but I didn’t see it as that until I applied a new perspective to playing piano, and found a new passion for it. When I started playing my first classical piece, Chopin’s Prelude in E minor, I hated it. It was dreary, depressing, and boring. But when I saw it from a new perspective given in a TED talk, the piece came to life in a new way. The speaker, Benjamin Zander, prompted the audience to think of someone you loved very much but no longer was with, and you would hear everything Chopin had to say. It transformed the Prelude from boring to relevant, and although it was still dreary, I could share and connect with the exact emotions Chopin was feeling as he was writing it. It still astounds me to think about how I can experience the same perspective of a French man, who doesn’t speak the same language, or live in the same century as me. That is as about close to time travel as anyone can get, with reading and writing at a close second.


I stopped writing it here because I felt it was getting off topic and I didn't like it anymore. It was sounding too much like a TED talk. But this was my first go around, so it can only get better from here. Hopefully I can figure it out soon!
~Kat