Pop Ups

Every time I click on a link a big box gets in my way. It tells me "You won!" or "Download me!" A new tab will come up, and redirect me to a page I didn't ask to see. I have to sift through all the traps just to get here. My own blog is booby trapped.

And just like my laptop, I can't seem to get anything done without something popping up in my path. It tells me lies, that it will give me just what I need, just five more minutes, you can finish that later. Then five minutes turn to ten and the pop up has morphed into a whole new direction and before I know it, I'm caught up in a new program. The homework doesn't get done, the bed is unmade, the books are left lonely on the shelf. And then finally when the weight of tomorrow is too much for me to handle today, I peak out over the dirty clothes and pile of prayers left unsaid, searching for some kind of firewall or virus protection to keep my world from decaying into an abyss of pop-ups and opportunities missed.

Blink. Refresh. This is water.

Once upon a time there was a fish. His name was Larry. Larry lived on a desk, his neighbor was a mason jar of sketch pencils. He had a balanced three-flake-a-day diet. Sometimes he would splurge and eat a dust mote. Larry couldn't believe his life, he wasn't just any other fish in the sea. He got to live on a desk.

One day the hands came, like they do on a daily basis, and they scooped Larry up and put him in a bag. Larry was a very lucky fish, he had helpful hands to clean his bowl. But Larry never saw the bowl, or the sketch pencils and mason jar again. When the hands came back, he was taken to a new place, with new neighbors. He no longer lived in a bowl, but in a tank with a bright white light and a big black box that whirred and snarled and shot out bubbles at Larry. He had new neighbors, a clock radio that flashed blue symbols that he was sure could only mean something evil and he was scared. These were new waters.

New waters, but this is still water. The same water Larry's been swimming in his whole little fishy life. His gills still work. The hands still provide him with a balanced three-flake-a-day diet.

Larry's problem is that he can't trust himself. He doesn't see that this is water. He's been swimming the whole time, his gills have always worked, and they will continue to work even in the tank. There is nothing to be afraid of. Just keep swimmin'.

My computer's problem is that it doesn't have a proper virus protector, and the pop-ups are redirecting the direction the rainbow wheel has been spinning so diligently over.

My problem is that I can't easily face my problems. That is without turning myself into a fish or a computer. But I can choose my own reality. I'm not being bagged up and taken tank to tank by the hands. I'm not infected by a computer hacker outside of my control. I can stop all the pop-ups in my life, just as soon as I can hit the red X.

Discipline is just choosing between what you want now and what you want most...

Blink. Refresh. This is water.

~Kat

Head v. Heart

"Think of a time when your emotions (your heart) conflicted with what you know (your head)."

I immediately thought uh, boys. Then I quickly thought that was dumb, for obvious cliched reasons. Then I thought, well, college and majors. That's the big one for me right now. But as of right now, there is still no resolution between my math/science brain and my creative writing/music brain that experts say aren't supposed to live inside the same head. Or else. I'm quickly learning just how difficult that "or else" can be.

So in an effort to answer the prompt with a resolution and not just circuitous "I don't know, but maybe..." Here is how I have handled this conflict before, in a high stress environment, when a decision had to be made in the moment:

Before I was Kat Shaw. Before the blog, the self-confidence, self-identity, and forward thinking, I had to learn who "Kat Shaw" was. This was one of those learning experiences.

Poetry Club Symposium, sophomore year.

The spotlight was too bright. The room was too full. The pool of peers, and ultimate judges, was too deep and dark. The fire and brimstone performance before me, preaching about struggle and hurt I was too young and sophomoric to understand, left the stage smoldering. A clammy Katherine Shaw stepped up to share her little poem about "nice guys."

Two stanzas in I got burned. The words were clinging to my tongue, the electrical synapses in my brain were static. The next line wouldn't come for the life of me.

Head: nothing.
Heart: run.

So after playing the part of the deer in headlights for a few moments, that's just what I did. I ran backstage and frantically asked my fellow poets what the next line was to my poem. Of course, they didn't know. It was my poem.

Heart: You're done for. Prepare to be the Point Loma, not so poetic, pariah. I hope you have a bag for your head.

Head finally decided to join the conversation after being fashionably late.

Head: Go back out there. Take a deep breath. Ask the audience to start over. They got out of class for this, they won't say no.

With Heart kicking and screaming inside my chest, I stepped back out onto the stage. It was considerably cooler after being stagnant so long.

Miraculously, the world did not end.

But my poem did :)

~Kat

P.S. If you're having any internal conflicts like this, and your internal organs are conversational like mine are, I really found this prompt beneficial to look back on how I handled things in the past to help how I will handle them now. I still don't know whether to follow my heart or my head with something as big as my future career and the college to get me there, but I can assure you, you all will be the first to know when I do.

If I Should Have a Son

If I should have a son, by the time he's one year old, he would know that Dada could be just as comforting as Mama. By the time he's three, he would know that "please" and "thank you" are the magic beans that grow success and that if he ever falls from that bean stalk, it is okay to cry because nothing can grow without a little bit of watering. Before he enters Kindergarten, he will know that girls play differently than boys, and that they need to be protected just like Daddy does for Mommy. He might make a mistake every once in a while, but when he does, he will have the tell-tale face of guilt because his Mommy taught him right from wrong. And he will learn that an "I'm sorry" will shake that guilt away like an Etch-a-Sketch.

If I should have a son, by the time he starts high school, he will have learned that you can't go anywhere without a door opened for you, which you should always remember to be grateful for. He will also learn that sometimes you have to be the one to make the first push, but in either case, he will know that the right thing to do is to hold the door open for whomever may follow him.

If I should have a son, and if he should fall in love, I would tell him that girls are like buried treasure. Pirates will try to steal their worth, but he will know that the pirate life is not for me. Those doubloons will stay buried until she maps out the key to her heart for the man she will marry. He will know that that man won't always be him. But I'll tell him, when it's time, he will know from the protective nature to guard that "X marks the spot" with his life. He will know that to love is to sacrifice, and that if it was easy, everyone would have it.

If I should have a son, God help me, because growing up in a house of girls doesn't exactly lend me the qualifications to discover the mystery of the Y-chromosome, and my name isn't Nancy Drew.

But even if I should have a son, I would make sure that he would know that cussing is the crutch of the conversationally crippled, and that in this family, it's never been able to roll of the tongue gracefully anyway. He would know that if he needs to get in a fight to impress his friends, they aren't really his friends; they are just looking for you to get hurt. And he would NEVER spend his entire ceramic's class talking with his friend about boobs. Especially when you have to talk around the girl sitting between you in class.

Because if that girl was your mother, I can tell you right now, she didn't appreciate it.

If I should have a son, he would at the very least, know that.

~Kat

"Miss Kat! Tell me a story!"

I hear this often from the four year old boy and two year old girl whom I babysit for. It was pretty scary the first time they asked me. Talk about being put on the spot. And they read Dr. Seuss, talk about high expectations. Try to think for a few minutes? Nope, ain't no four year old got time for that. You have thirty seconds. Go.

By now I've gotten to the point where I can roll with the punches, especially once I figured out that if there are dinosaurs or sharks in the story it's immediately a hit.

Everyone loves a story. Stories have been around for as long as there were people to dictate them. Stories will be around for as long as there are people to listen. There will always be a demand for writers. Yet, I'm still hesitant to declare myself an English major. I'm still leading myself down the road of being in school for a million years after high school graduation majoring in Health Science.

I've always had an interest in medicine, inspired by my mom, a nurse. I've always been pretty good at math and science in school, even enjoyed it most of the time.

But something that I enjoy all the time: English class. It has always been my favorite, every year since Kindergarten. I look forward to that class like a child would look forward to their birthday. I dabble into writing exercises and new techniques like college students might dabble into promiscuity. I re-read my old work like someone might dream of the "glory days" and gaze nostalgically upon their pee-wee soccer trophies.

You could say I love it.

I just finished the first week of my Senior year, and yes it has met my high expectations. It's challenging, but it's easy enough to digest so that I don't have to wait a half hour before I go swimming and have fun. I have some very interesting classes, with great attention-getting teachers.

The top two things I learned this week:

One, stories have a lot more to them than what meets the eye and they have a lot more to say than what seeps between your ears. They are important, important enough to require all citizens of the United States to study them for their first twelve years of schooling, if not more.

Two, if what you love is not "worth your time," then what is? "The only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do... Don't settle."-Steve Jobs

And both of these things came from my English class.

I would hope after 12 years of English class I would know how to read a sign, if only I was courageous enough to follow it.
~Kat

To Student Entering Ms.Beltran's Class

Number one: You have just won the lottery. You were "randomly" chosen to be sitting in that seat, in this class, with these people, and that teacher, for which you have seriously lucked out. You'll realize how lucky you are soon enough, for there are many lessons you will learn in this class that you will carry with you the rest of your life. I say with no exaggeration that you will be changed, in some way, by the end of the year. Don't fight it, embrace it. You being in this class is not as "random" as it may seem, you probably need this class more than you know.

Number two: This is not an English class. Read it on your schedule: AP English LANGUAGE. Notice "language" in all caps. This is a class where you learn how to communicate effectively in the world. Whether that be at a job/college interview, a debate, a Facebook status, or effectively dumping a boyfriend/girlfriend (Hint: Don't text them). Everything you learn in this class is useful, so pay attention. Ms. Beltran is not the kind of teacher who is going to feed you bullshit to up her test grades, she is a smart woman and well aware of what a glorious waste of time that would be for both of you.

Number three: Ms. Beltran is a person outside of being your teacher. This may be difficult to realize, but she too has feelings, favorites, and hunger pangs in 4th period just like everybody else. She might not want to be there some days, just like you. But she doesn't get to check out, so you better not. She has two beautiful children she could be spending her day with (I'm sure you will see many pictures of them), but she's here in a stuffy room with a bunchy of smelly teenagers. For some reason she likes us and keeps coming back. She is also human, and makes mistakes, but she has the decency and respect for you that she will admit when a mistake is made. So try to look at things from her perspective sometimes, and not just with her but with all your teachers. You're life will be a lot more pleasant, trust me.

She is also very smart and has a lot to offer you. She was a student as well, and very successful. We all want to make it in life, get the good SAT scores, get into the college of our dreams, have the job of our dreams. Ms. Beltran has made it. She will help you make it, too if you let her. Ms. Beltran makes things happen.

And lastly some useful tips:

If she suggests you should do something (i.e. read an article, check out a blog, research a speech) that means do it. It could very easily be what tomorrow's entire class discussion is centered around. Don't be left in the dark twiddling your thumbs, and don't try to pretend that you did it either. She will know. She always knows.

Take her advice. You will regret not taking it later, and she won't hesitate to tell you "I told you so."

One thing she'll tell you to do is read a lot. You won't want to. Do it. If you want to learn how to communicate effectively, what better way than to witness how the pros do it. Plus you'll have something impressive to say in conversations. I definitely received and "I told you so" for this one. Don't get caught with your tail between your legs.

And I cannot stress this last thing more:
She will invest in you what you invest in her class. Probably more. Invest a lot, you get a lot out of it, and will love this class. Invest little, you will gain little, watch everyone around you getting more than you, and then this will just be another period you have to lug your 20 lb. backpack to.

Like anything, the choice is yours. Just make the right one.

Good luck, and enjoy
~Kat

Ask me a question! :)

This modern world is so sad, so many innocent people are falling into it, and don't even know.

This post was brought on by something that came up on my Newsfeed, one of my "Facebook friends" (really I don't even know her that well) posted that she was "bored" and then a link to ask.fm. I've been seeing this site coming up a lot, so I followed the link to see what it was all about. And what I saw made me sad for this girl I barely know.

She was getting pounded by very personal questions about her relationships, and prom night, and was answering these anonymous questions with all openness, and then having to aggressively defend herself and her choices to this person she can't even see or know. I could feel her frustration and hurt as this person hidden behind a screen was slashing her psyche.

It's terrible in itself that someone would attack her like this in such a despicable way, but what really made me sad was that she just kept answering the questions. And even posting again on Facebook for more people to see her page, see her life and her struggles, and interrogate her about it. She's doing this to herself because she just doesn't know better and she's bored.

I remember a site like this a few years ago, formspring.com, which was pretty much the same thing, and I remember that site being just as destructive. This is the kind of thing this modern world creates, we're losing it here. We are losing sight of what's real, this internet world isn't "real" to us anymore. The words we type don't mean anything to anyone because they aren't "real." We look for a sense of security behind an anonymous comment box, but really nothing is secure there. But we become addicted to the affirmation from all the likes and shares and views we get that we can't shut down an account once it becomes too much because we are already in too deep. We don't see that this "luxury" is really just a trap.

We lose sight of what real love is, what marriage is, what dating is, and what the purpose is of love at all. We are shown in TV shows the glamour of summer love and flings and hook-ups and high school relationships and sex and all that, but its all just movie magic, guys. Real love is willing to sacrifice anything, even yourself, for someone else. It's giving everything.

That's why they say "you know when you know" because if you think about it, this self-sacrificial love is completely counter-cultural. We don't sacrifice, we accommodate. So many people date in high school, including myself, with the mindset that this person is good enough, they fit into my life easily, it's fun, and now I have a plus-one wherever I go. But at least in my last relationship, and I bet I'm not the only one, I wasn't willing to sacrifice for my boyfriend. I was still seeing my other guy friends, letting myself be swooned by their charm. I wouldn't sacrifice those friends, those feelings, for him. I didn't love him. So I was just wasting both of our time, because at the heart of it, I was bored with my life and he kept things interesting. I lost sight of what love was.

Really, I think the heart of our problems is losing sight of what's real, and what is not and just made up by culture. Look at the top issues right now: abortion (what is life?), same-sex attraction (what is love?), right to bear arms (what is freedom?).

And now I'll end with that last one: freedom. Why are we all so lost? Why do we fall into these traps? Because we lose sight of what the truth is. In this world, what's true for me can be different than what's true for you. That leaves truth to be relative to the person, in other words, there is no absolute truth anymore. It's easier to think this way because our world is so diverse, and it diverts conflicts, but it also makes it so that if you know what the truth is, you aren't allowed to share that, because that would be "forcing your beliefs" on someone. You can't say anything, even if you know that if they just knew the truth, that would save them a lot of trouble.

Can't say to that girl that ask.fm is a trap you're letting yourself fall into.

Can't say to a friend in a bad relationship that you don't really love each other, this is a waste of time, neither of you are willing to sacrifice, and you are worth better.

Can't say to a friend who has an accidental pregnancy that abortion is murder. Life does begin at conception, not only do our hearts know it, but science does too. And nobody has the right to choose to kill someone. No matter how inconvenient that may be. You would regret that decision the rest of your life, and really it won't fix anything.

I can easily be persecuted and ridiculed for that last one. So much that I wouldn't catch myself saying that in public out of fear.

So now let me ask some questions: Do any of us really have freedom of speech? Freedom of religion? Freedom to live? Freedom to delete a self-destructive account? Freedom to know the truth?

I have hope that someday we can honestly answer in full confidence yes to all those questions. Because people tell me a lot that I have my head screwed on straight, I'm kind, I have my life together, even in the struggles I stay strong. People that I watch struggle themselves, people I care a lot about, tell me this. It's hard for me to watch them trudge through like I used to before I "figured it out."

If only I felt like I had the freedom to tell them the truth of how I live my life now and how I figured things out, I would have hope that they could figure it out soon too. But until then, I'll just have to drop hints and wait.

Patiently hopeful
~Kat

Lightbulb!

I'm sure anyone who's been following this blog for some time, or who knows me outside of a computer screen, can attest to the fact that I'm pretty much an open book. I have no problem sharing things about myself with other people, I always thought of that as one of my better qualities. I'm open and I'm trusting.

Something else that you all may have noticed about me lately (and many times in the past) is that I have been falling for my friends. That is, letting myself fall in love with some of my guy friends. And it has always led to awkwardness, disappointment, and then a distance between us that can never be crossed again. It's not a very fun ride.

What had never occurred to me before, and was revealed to me in a chastity talk of all things, was that my problem and my "better quality" goes hand in hand. This chastity talk was not my first, and probably won't be my last. But it was the first that ever talked more about emotional chastity than it did physical chastity and modesty.

Emotional chastity is an amazing thing, it's a shame it isn't spoken of more often. Leave it to me to unearth the unspoken. But I really think a good understanding of this can help a lot of girls and guys like it's cleared things up for me.

So "chastity" isn't just not having sex. Chastity is loving in a way appropriate to the relationship; that includes physical and emotional.

The emotional part of chastity is best explained as "guarding your heart." Making sure that what you share of yourself and your emotions is appropriate to the relationship, whether that be an acquaintance, a friendship, a dating relationship, an engagement, or a marriage.

This is what I've been doing wrong, how I've been "unchaste." I was going ahead and sharing the deepest parts of my heart with my guy friends. I was trusting them with a lot. Looking to them for affirmation, guidance, safety. Of course my feelings would get out of hand. And so next the big question was: Why was I telling him this? What was my real motive, what was I looking for? And why wasn't I just going to one of my girl friends?

Most of the time I was looking for affirmation, an ego boost, someone to blast away my insecurities. Or I would be looking for a "body guard" type person, to make me feel safe when I was scared. Or the worst would be looking to see how I should change myself to be better suited and made worthy their affections.

THIS IS RIDICULOUS! They are but 17 year old boys! They aren't perfect, or incredibly wise, or incredibly trustworthy. They mess up, a lot. What ever made me think I could give them ALL of my heart, just so they could mess that up too? Let me down when they aren't the perfect gentleman? Disappoint me when their best advice to me is "oh, that sucks"?

It sounds really ridiculous once you lay it all out for what it is, doesn't it? But I can guarantee I am not the only one that's experienced this. We have all at one point in our lives let ourselves give a little too much.

This isn't to say I won't trust boys ever again. That they are silly irresponsible little creatures with nothing to offer, and aren't worth my time. It's just that they aren't worth spending all my time worrying about them.

They don't need to know everything about me, don't we want to leave a little mystery? We don't need them to affirm us. I'm sure our girlfriends, or our moms, can do just as good a job. We don't need their silly "oh, that sucks" advice. If you need advice from them, it better be on which team to bet on for the World Series or what sandwich I should make for lunch.

Guys, I love you, but I am not having y'all listen to my emotional dramas anymore. No more heartbreak. No more friendships broken by awkwardness and too much information. No more need to write posts or songs about you. Because Taylor Swift knows you could do that the rest of your life if your not careful.

I hope this could help anyone who's been through the same stuff as me, and could get you out of the ridiculous cycle of boy troubles so that you can start living a little more freely.

Much love and new found freedom,
Kat