Paradox of Love and the Buttmunch Syndrome

Paradox: n. a statement that apparently contradicts itself and yet might be true.

Last night I was babysitting for two little boys, ages 4 and 6. I made them dinner, we played outside, had dessert, went through the whole bedtime routine, read a story, and then I put them to bed with the hall light on (not the bathroom light) and the door cracked open at about an eighty degree angle, so no monsters can creep into the shadows. After they were asleep I did all the dishes, cleaned the kitchen, picked up all the toys in the playroom, and tucked them neatly away.

I didn't have to do any of that. My job as babysitter was to corral the little monsters and keep them from self-destructing. Once they are asleep, my job is done. Yet I cleaned the whole house anyway, even though I don't really know these people all that well, and I'm not being paid any extra to do it. I just did, without thinking about it.

Thursday night I was home. Mom made us dinner. I was watching Netflix, happily enjoying my time not doing homework. I ate the dinner that was made for me, said thank you, and went back to watching Netflix. My mom cleaned up dinner. She just did, I didn't think anything of it.

The paradox is this: although I clearly love my mother much more than I love the family I babysit for, if you looked at my actions, it appears I love the family I barely know very much, and am impartial to my mother.

I was thinking about this tonight as I was voluntarily cleaning up after dinner, a rare occasion especially when I'm not prompted. And really, I was only doing it as an apology for royally screwing up lately and giving my mom some grief. That made me then think how mindlessly I will reach out to help people I barely know, and how just as mindlessly I will talk back or be immensely rude to my family, the people I love the most.

I can't really begin to understand why this is the way it is and how it came to be. But when I realized it, it scared me. The people we love the most should logically be the people that receive the majority of our kindness. I shouldn't have to feel threatened in order to clean up the kitchen. I shouldn't have to be prompted to clean my bathroom. And I definitely shouldn't so easily slip into the worst side of myself, spewing accusations and raising my voice.

I can count on one hand the number of times I have yelled at someone outside of my immediate family. Yet the times I've fought with my family are innumerable. I think it's because I know they will always love me, so there is no risk of being kicked out or never talked to again. So isn't it ironic that because our families extend this unconditional love, we then see it as a free pass to take advantage of?

Like I said earlier, I don't know why this is the way it is. If you do, feel free to enlighten me. In the meantime, I'm going to try my hardest to be slow to anger and quick to kindness, and show all the love I feel through my actions. Maybe that's the point of Mother's Day and Father's Day, to remind us all that even though we can be real buttmunches to eachother, we do still love eachother. More than anything.

~Kat

P.S. Mom, sorry for being such a buttmunch. And thanks for living with me anyway. Love, the pill with a capital P.

The Paved Road

Sometimes when I desperately need to move, I freeze. Sometimes when something desperately needs to be said, I'm speechless.
The fear of taking the wrong step, or conveying the wrong message is somehow greater than the looming apathy that ensues when there's something to do, but nothing's being done.

A friend once told me that she didn't want her indecision to be the deciding factor. For her paths to be taken over and accepted back into the uncharted jungle of opportunity because she just didn't feel like keeping it clear anymore. Looking down the road less traveled, considering all the work it would be with no guarantee of a safe return, and choosing the paved road instead to live a sure life of normalcy.

Not applying to my dream school because I didn't want to write my life in 1000 words or less, to be judged by a stranger who decides whether or not my existence is worthy of their acceptance. But it was only one essay. One essay too much, for which I'm sorry, UCSD. You've been crossed off the top of the list, a transcript left unsent. Watch me slip into normalcy at SDSU should have tried harder.

I turned onto that paved road, and now I walk along it, looking at my shoes and the black asphalt beneath me. And it looks dark. I know I can raise my head, and there will be blue skies above me, filled with white puffy clouds and silver linings galore. This school will be fine for me, I can enjoy my home and showers sans sandals. But I can't help but wonder what that sky would have looked like a few miles off the well-beaten path. And whether there would actually have been any room for me.

But here's the moral to this all too true story:

If there's something you love beyond a doubt, never hesitate to seek it out.
Press Send.
Write the damn essay.
Ask them out to prom, the worst they could say is no. The best they could say is hell yes. And you'd be surprised, maybe there's a room full of people waiting for the chance to say that to you, if only you'd ask.

And so to neutralize the sad story of the time I was too scared, here is a story of bravery:

One day a girl was getting ready to see her best friend's band play their first big gig. He was her best friend, but he was never just a friend for her, not for the two years they'd known each other. Her ride was on the way when an idea popped into her head that she couldn't shake out. She grabbed a marker and poster board, and quickly wrote a message in all caps to be held up during the last song. Before she could think twice her ride was there and they were on their way. They arrived, the band played, the final song came along, and with sweaty palms and shaking hands she held up the sign that read "Encore, Will you take me to homecoming?" Little did she know, and would later discover, that was all he needed to work up his courage to finally ask her out, officially, after two years of uncertainty. And they couldn't be happier together, four months later and counting.

This story is all too true. But it only happened because I asked.

~Kat

A girl.

Have you ever witnessed something you know you weren't supposed to see? Something that you can't quickly un-see?

About a month ago, I was driving home from a friend's house rather late at night, maybe 11 p.m. or so. The whole neighborhood was asleep. Then I see someone running down the sidewalk, which was kind of unusual since it was so late. As I drive by, I realize its a heavy-set girl, and I start to recognize her. She goes to my school. I don't know her name, I have never met her, don't know what grade she's in, but I have seen her in the halls.

First it was just, huh, that's peculiar. Then it was I wonder why she'd be running so late at night. Then I started to connect the dots. She's a high school girl, in sunny swimsuit San Diego. She doesn't have the body of a Victoria's Secret Angel. She wants to be healthier, thinner, so she goes for a run at the only hour she could be sure no one will see.

I said to myself out loud in my car, at 11 p.m., "Wow." There was nothing more to say. Nothing more to think. At least not right then. But by the time I was home, her image was branded into my head, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about her since.

I'm not exactly sure why this has stuck with me as strongly as it has a month later. It was but a second of my life, a second that happened to intertwine with a moment of her's. I felt sad, upset, and inspired all at the same time. And it's because while that was just a second of my life, that is her life.

She has probably had to deal with dumb kids making fun of her, enough to make her recede into the night. She has to see the skinny girls at school in their crop tops exposing their perfect waists that look like they were personally pinched between God's own fore-finger and thumb. Something He conveniently forgot to do to her. She's had to watch the boys crane their necks at these girls, while they look right through her. Every day.

I don't know this girl, but I'm inspired by her. She wakes up every day and deals with stuff like that. She gets up at 11 o'clock at night to go for a run, something I haven't even been able to motivate myself to do even in the day time. She's dealing with what God gave her, and is doing her best to stay healthy. And I incredibly respect and admire that. She can't go to a gym, because the only people who go to the gym are already fit. And ironically, that's enough of a reason to stay away and avoid comparisons. She can't even go out for a run at a convenient daylight hour just around her neighborhood. She's probably had people tell her there's no use, you won't lose the weight.

But she went out anyway. And she ran, leaving all that behind her.

She may not know it, but she has a fan cheering her on. I hope she finds her finish line.

~Kat

This is Love.

This has been long overdue. My posts have paralyzed in wait for a soliloquy, a metaphor, a simile, about you. Past posts have been close, "Spread the Love" was in preparation for you, "Crushed" was scared of you, "We're Just Friends" was for you, and "Lightbulb" was in spite, yet inspired still, by you.

But this post is you. This is Love.

You, Love, have always been there, disguised in a slough
Of faces, ballads, flowers, and sunsets.
But it's always been you.

I have never been ready,
Never quite understood,
How to greet you, or treat you, or if I should
Because if I didn't know how
What made me think that I could
Dabble in Love, which appears like magic
When I'm no magician
And the tricks up my sleeve
Are unknown to me.

But Love, what you've taught me
Is that the show will go on
Love will continue its trickery
With me to tag along

So I'll reach in my hat
Fishing for a bunny
Even though you can't assure me
I won't pull out a rat.

With its pink wiggly tail
and its squeak squeak squeak
which sounds a lot like weak weak weak
Love, you taught me that a rat is not a fail
But that I should hold it by the tail and bow anyway
And as I look at my feet
I see how far I've walked
But my soul and my shoes are not worn yet
I still have places to go and people to meet

So I look back up at the audience before me
Who just witnessed my rat of a bunny
And as they clap politely
I know there are other fish in the sea
Other shows to be had
There is more to this trickery

Love will turn up again
As it always had
And I know that is true
Because when I look at you
I know I have found it once more.

This is love.

~Kat

"Nothing is more practical than finding God, falling in Love in a quite absolute, final way. What you are in love with, what seizes your imagination, will affect everything. It will decide what will get you out of bed in the morning, what you do with your evenings, how you spend your weekends, what your read, whom you know, and what amazes you with joy and gratitude. Fall in love, stay in love, and it will decide everything."
~Fr. Pedro Arrupe

Save Me.

For those of you who aren't already aware of the "Save Our Neighborhood" situation with the lights, what's going on is that the school wants to add lights, and a new PA system and possibly a parking structure in order to have night games and practices. The neighborhood doesn't want that because of the noise and the loss in property values.

In most recent news, lights are not going to be at the Homecoming game this year, so it will have to be during the day. Many Pointers are up in arms and blaming it on the "Save Our Neighborhood" group.

This is how I respond.

Dear Save Our Neighborhood Assholes,

How dare you take away our precious night games? It’s our senior year, we are teenagers and we want to have some fun while the fun still lasts. I can’t believe you all took away our one existing night, the Homecoming game. We have horrible school spirit as it is, and now nobody’s going to come out for the day game. The lights were going to save everything, and now we can’t have it for even one night.

Let’s walk out. Let’s all meander around the neighborhood, show them just how reckless and noisy teenagers can be. Let’s give them something real to complain about. We’ll show them how to rally together and make something happen.

We only have four years of high school, and because of you people, we can’t make the most of it. Because all you hoity-toity home owners made the stupid decision to buy a house next a high school, what did you think was going to happen? This isn’t the 1970’s anymore. It’s not like the student population hasn’t grown at all, or that most of the kids don’t have to drive to school. It’s not like you have to deal with trying to find a parking space. It’s not like you’re missing out on having an enjoyable Friday night.

You all are just being myopic. Just concerned with yourselves, and your property value, and your quiet neighborhood. You just want to be able to go for walks with your little shih-tzus without all of our crappy old cars that we pay for and maintain ourselves lining your streets. Plus, it’s all the same people that are parking out front of your house all day 5 days a week anyway. Who cares if they are still there for another 3 hours or so after dark? And you can’t blame us for who comes to use the field on the weekends, that’s out of our control. By law they have to loan the field out, and the money that comes in from those renters will help pay for needs the school has and better our experiences. That’s right, I’m not just a stupid teenager, I went to the meetings.

You just can’t understand our struggle. Can’t understand what it’s like to be a high school student without night games. We’ve sacrificed for the neighborhood since the beginning, agreeing to have only one night game a year. We’ve really done you a favor. All we’re asking is for it to be returned.

Just let us have the lights. We are only in high school for four years, and it’s supposed to be the best years of our lives. And then we’re going to be gone and going off to college and it’s all going to be over. We’re going to be getting a job that we have to work really hard at to become successful and live the dream. We’re going to get married, and have a dog, and move into a nice quiet neighborhood in a nice house that we paid for and earned. We’re going to enjoy the rest of our lives with our kids and our grandkids, going on nice walks to unwind after a stressful day at work. And we’re going to be smart, and not move next to a high school with rowdy kids crowding our space, ya know?

And we are going to look back at our high school years and remember how much they sucked because we didn’t have school spirit, or a night game for our last Homecoming, or lights for our field, and we are going to remember that it’s all your faults because you just thought of yourselves, and your perfect little houses, and quiet neighborhood.

Insincerely,
The class of 2014

~Kat

P.S. I've done my research on satire.

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.