Daily Journal #1

Everyone gets scared a little bit the first time they do something. Trying to climb higher than you ever have, sing louder than ever before, or walk tall into a room of faces you've never seen is scary. But what about a first time in a long time but its actually your bajillionth time and you should be good at this fear? Because that is a very real fear, and its definitely scarier than the first time.

The first time I ever wrote a blog post was almost three years ago now. And that was scary. But then I wrote 46 more that year and it wasn't so bad anymore. Now it's been three months since I've written and much longer since I've written anything I'm truly proud of and trying to sit down here and write for fifteen minutes is daunting. There's an expectation looming over me. This isn't my first rodeo, I should be able to write, and write well.

That expectation sucks, because the first time you do something you can expect to be bad at it. But after you've been considered a pro, and you try to come back, you have the expectation to be a pro, but with the skill of a rookie.

I'm picking up a pen thats ink has gone dry. I'm hoping that if I scribble around and shake it up enough, maybe it will be able to write again.

Fingers crossed
~Kat

We Got Time

I started this blog in a place of loss. Some of you may still remember that one of my very first posts, entitled Raw and Retching, was about the poor timing of a series of unfortunate events. I got dumped on my six month-aversary. I got stomach flu on New Year’s Eve. And to tie it all together, I had bought my then boyfriend a watch for Christmas, and proceeded to give it to him after the break up along with a strongly worded poem expressing my frustrations and hoping that this watch will help him with his timing.

The break-up and stomach flu itself was not that bad. We hadn’t been clicking for months, I saw it coming, had even thought about it myself, and the stomach flu probably kept me from doing some pretty irresponsible things on my first New Year’s outside of my own home. No, the experiences themselves were not awful.

What got me so upset, and so inspired, was the poor timing. At the time, my motivation, my number one priority, and my identity was all lodged into that relationship. Once that was gone, so was the rest, and I did not want to deal with it. Not on what would have been our six month, right before Christmas, and in the middle of my junior year of high school. It was not the right time.

Or was it?

After this break-up I had nowhere to sit at lunch anymore, so I wandered into my English class and befriended my teacher. She saw a lot of potential and goodness in me, and inspired me to start this blog. So I did and part of my identity and motivation, that was lost, returned. I was a writer and I had readers.

A few months later I found myself at a youth group where Jason Evert, a national speaker, inspired me to start a six month dating fast. This meant I would not even think about entering into another relationship for at least six months and focus on repairing my self-worth, my identity, and my motivation by making God and spirituality a priority. During this time my faith grew exponentially. I became self-assured. I went on a week long retreat in July that completely changed how I live my life and set my priorities in stone, with God as number one. My identity, my worth, the love and kindness I tried to give, my motivation, and my purpose all came from Him and I could take a deep breath knowing that I had nothing to worry about.

I entered my senior year a transformed person. I was satisfied and filled. The fact that I was single was not in the front of my mind, nor was it a worry or strain. Two months into the school year, I was given Austyn. It all happened fast, and before I knew it I was deeply committed with no looking back. And this time it was different. This time, he isn’t my motivation. Instead he reminds me of what I should be motivated about. He isn’t my sole priority, but instead he wakes me up when he sees my priorities skew. He isn’t my identity, but loves me and supports in what I indentify with.

And whenever I would voice any doubts, his response from the very beginning was always “We got time.”

So yes. Timing is everything, and everything happened according to plan. It just didn’t happen according to mine.

I gave a watch, and was given time.

~Kat

P.S. Thank you, Austyn, for reminding me it had been a while since I had written, and making sure this stays a priority. You're the best.

An Experience

“So how was your first year?”

Whenever I was asked this question I would respond, “It was great!” Then I would proceed to list off my evidence as to why my freshman year of college was great. I met some really nice people, people with very different perspectives than mine that opened my eyes. I learned a ton, and was challenged, but didn’t die. Being a commuter was actually really awesome because I didn’t have to deal with dorming and could sleep whenever I wanted and eat home-cooked meals. I also got to stay in touch with a lot of my friends that stayed in town.

I think most people’s response when asked about their first year is pretty similar to mine. All of our first years were great! At this point, it’s like a conditioned response. It had to be great, because no one wants to hear otherwise, right? And if it wasn’t great, why would I tell you that? I don’t want a pity-party. I want to be able to tell you that it was great, that I did awesome things, and got that internship, and yea, I did go to that party. Aren’t you so happy for me?

But here’s the part where we run into trouble. It’s the summer after our first year, we are seeing people that we hadn’t seen in months, and you ask them, “How was your first year?” And what do they tell you?

“It was great!”

Then they list all the great things they did their first year of college, and your thinking, well crap. Their year sounds awesome. I didn’t go to Mexico for Spring Break. I didn’t slip and slide down the hallway of my dorm. I didn’t go to my homecoming football game or meet 30 of my best friends in my awesome new sorority.

I can count the number of friends I made my freshman year on one hand. I didn’t go to any parties. I was actually pretty reclusive, being a commuter. I didn’t want to have to drive out there more than I had to, so I didn’t join any clubs. My best friend moved across the country and keeping in touch with her was really hard, and I missed her a lot. Classes would become difficult, I would be tired, have a pain in the butt teacher that doesn’t know how to use Blackboard, be overloaded with work, and come weekend I was ready for a girl’s night and my girl was in a different time zone. I would forget to eat. My piano didn’t get its fair share of action, and it wasn’t the only keyboard that was getting dusty. I didn’t write not only because of a lack of time but a lack of inspiration. My second semester was an emotional roller coaster, with Organic Chemistry almost gutting me of all my carbon-based energy sources and I think I might have actually been a little depressed for a little while there.

But we don’t say all that, do we? Our freshman years were awesome. Mine was great. And yours was just as “great” as mine.

“So what is the college experience? What is it like?”

To all those heading off in a few weeks for their freshman year, don’t let this discourage you. This wasn’t meant to be a discouragement, but an encouragement. You’re freshman year will be a change, and most likely a good one with lots of firsts and beautiful memories made. Mine definitely was that. But your freshman year will not be perfect, it will be about as perfect as anyone’s freshman year is. You will come home for winter break and people will ask you how your first semester went. And you will answer them that it was great. And sometimes it will be difficult to come up with your evidence of why it was great.

But take courage, because everyone’s freshman year was just as “great” as yours. You’re not alone in that. People hype up the college experience, and I think that’s not really fair to do. College is an experience. And that is all.

The best that we can do is enjoy what we can enjoy, and accept what we can't as just a part of it.

~Kat

I Don't Do Sadness

I work as a waitress at a dive bar; literally, there is an old diving suit in the entryway. Our uniforms have the slogan “get your ship together” printed across the back, and about five months ago, I was sitting in my car before my shift sobbing. I walked in with puffy eyes and a big how-do-you-do smile. A few months later I was crying yet again in my car, driving home from the airport. I went in to work that afternoon with my ship together and swore I would never cry at work again. I broke that promise when I had to ask for a day off to go to a funeral. After that I gave up.

I feel like sometimes I treat sadness like a disease. It’s something to be contained and controlled. I definitely don't want to go out if I know I have it, should it to spread to anyone else. I have many remedies to make it go away, and I take precautions to keep it away.

It took a children’s movie to show me that I was wrong. Sadness in Pixar’s Inside Out was a very troubled little character. She was constantly outshined by Joy. As things were heading into turmoil, it was even more important that Sadness stayed contained.

When my boyfriend went across the country for a summer job, I tried to fill my days with as much Joy as I could. I surrounded myself with friends, tried to plan every second of every day with fun activities, made sure that I was plenty busy with work and school. I did have fun, I was busy, but at the end of the day I would come home and all I would want to do was tell him about it. I just wanted to sit with him. I would be on a hike or watching the sunset and would be thinking about how much he would enjoy being here right now. I would say a stupid joke and could see his eyes rolling. I would be craving Thai food, which I didn’t even like before he made me try it, and suddenly I would just be hungry for him. Joy could try her hardest, could use every trick in the book, and it wouldn’t make me miss him any less.

And this makes me sad. But what this new kid’s movie taught me was that Sadness was okay. Sadness is not a disease to be contained or protected against. Sometimes there are things that Joy cannot reach and overcome, and the only thing left is Sadness. Sometimes Sadness just needs to do her thing, and after an hour of crying, you actually somehow feel better.

It doesn’t mean that I am weak or broken. Even Jesus cried. When He had heard that one of His close friends Lazarus had died, “Jesus wept” (John 11:35). Some things are worth admitting that you are not strong enough, some things are worth breaking for. It means we are alive and human. Missing someone isn’t so bad, because it means you have someone worth missing.

In the end, it wasn’t Joy that brought her home. It was Sadness.

~Kat

A Few Farewells

"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens..."

"A time to tear down, and a time to build..."

It had many names. It was born a Volvo, but soon it was Mommy's car. Boosters in the back, it's cushions coughed cookies and quarters, sand in every seat, it was a true kid car. This hatchback carried groceries, soccer balls, beach toys, but most importantly it carried a family through its beginnings. My sister and I hatched back there. Then when it was our turn to fly, it became the Driving Instructor. It whined at every stop and wheezed to a start. It taught us never to speed, shaking us back to our senses whenever we neared 70 mph. When it was finally mine, it became Kat's Cradle. It held me through rain storms, it absorbed 5 surfboards, could bear an entire band of guitars and amps and mic stands. It watched me fall in love for the first time. It was carrying my love and I to the cheapest bowling alley in town. It absorbed a Nissan at 65 mph into the precious passenger's side. It watched us walk away, without a scratch. It did its job, but it would bear no more.
Farewell.


"A time to scatter stones and a time to gather them..."

My love walked out of that car so he can walk into a plane, to an opportunity worth living for. I am walking into a summer of letters, long-distance phone calls, and shortness of breath as I wait for my heart to return. Distance is scary. We're told distance stretches the heart like taffy. The farther it stretches, the easier it breaks. But I think that is wrong. I think the heart is more like a rubber-band; strong, made to handle a little strain, and home in a snap. Just like a rubber-band, we will hold it together.

It's also graduation, a time for scattering. But don't fret. We will all hold it together. And until it is time to gather again we say:
I love you, farewell. For now.

"A time to be silent and a time to speak..."

It has been seven months since I have written anything, which was scary. I thought maybe I was saying farewell to writing. Maybe I would never be able to again. But the past semester was only a time of silence. Biology and chemistry left me speechless. But now,the changing season has brought not only a freedom of time but a freedom of mind. I am back again. Just as easily and quickly as when I left. Through the distance, I held it together.

"What do workers gain from their toil? I have seen the burden God has laid on the human race. He has made everything beautiful in its time." -Ecclesiastes 3:1-11

Seasons change, and that's okay. "There is a season for every activity under the heavens." Every activity, even the sad ones, the ones we don't feel like doing, the ones that leave us tired. This is not a bad thing. These seasons have a purpose. It is easy to lose faith when something doesn't go our way. I lost mine along the way. And with it I lost myself. Everything was harder to bear. Days became long and arduous. I could catch myself asking, what was the point? "What do workers gain from their toil?" From all the difficulty, do we gain anything at all?

The answer is of course we do. Graduates, when you walked across the stage, were you still thinking all your hard work was for nothing? No. When architects finish a building, and walk through the lobby, are they thinking about how much of a waste all those sleepless nights were? No.

When you can see the fruits, all labor is made worth while. So have faith that the fruits will come with time. "He has made everything beautiful in its time."

Keeping faith is hard, I know, but not having any is definitely harder.

~Kat