Just like Ye Olde Housewife

I wish I had a windowsill upon which to cool my pie.

Except I made cheesecake and not a pie.

And is it just me, or is windowsill a really weird word?

In other recent news, I am just ready to curl up with some new beauty products, slather on some lovin', get in my pajamas and call it a life. This week has plumb wore me out. So much so that my East Texan is coming out of hiding. Although I've only lived in South and Central Texas and don't so much have an accent...

The point of that delightful (is your eyebrow cocked in skepticism? Mine too.) anecdote was to tell you that this is kind of going to be a cop-out post. Which will actually please some of you, because it will be way more informative than my posts usually are. Unless you count an inordinate amount of injuries, illnesses, and freak accidents like simulated face herpes. Which, who does?

So without further ado, I give you The Pumpkin Cheesecake to end all pumpkin cheesecakes. It's a Paula Deen recipe, ya'll, so you know it's good. I refer to her as the Patron Saint of Dessert.

Step 1: Combine all things sinful and mash them down into a crust. Add more butter if you're feeling footloose and fancy free or if your pants feel loose.


Step 2: Get frustrated that the cream cheese isn't beating smooth even though it's ROOM TEMPERATURE and add the pumpkin puree anyway. Try not to think about what it looks like. Also do not taste this. Cream cheese and pumpkin do not a pumpkin cheesecake make.



Step 3: Get excited when it beats smooth because you did things like add eggs and sour cream. Get disappointed when it still doesn't taste good.

Step 4: Add a bunch of dry ingredients and helpful things like sugar.

Step 5: Mix it all together. With love.

Step 6: Get excited when it looks good when you pour it into your new springform pan.
Step 7: Pop the sucker in the oven for an hour. Notice your oven door looks like something out of a horror film.


Step 8: Admire the baked cheesecake that didn't crack! Let it cool in the oven for longer than you think it should take.Step 9: After letting it cool, take the cheesecake out of the oven at 3:17. A.M. This adds a certain flavor that can't be recreated when normal people walk the earth.

Step 10: Go to bed at 4:15 A.M. because the sucker is still not cool enough to go in the fridge. Set your alarm for 4:45 A.M. And cry.

Step 11: Wake up in a stupor and get out the plastic wrap. Remember to take photographs. Fail to notice if they're blurry.

Step 12: Drop the plastic wrap in your perfect cheesecake. Smear its uncracked, unmarred surface.

Step 13: Cry. Throw the offending wrap haphazardly over your shoulder. Decide to let the cheesecake go uncovered because Fridge is another one of those elusive 3 A.M. flavors that can only be harvested by fluorescent light while wearing dirty glasses and a frown.

Step 14: Put the cheesecake in the refridgerator and vow to cover the scraped part with homemade caramel and cinnamon whipped cream.

Step 15: Turn around and see what you've done to your kitchen. Cry.



Step 15: Stumble into bed at 5:00 A.M. Crying optional.


Here's the recipe. It really is worth the heartache.

Ingredients

Crust:

• 1 3/4 cups graham cracker crumbs
• 3 tablespoons light brown sugar
• 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1 stick melted salted butter

Filling:

• 3 (8-ounce) packages cream cheese, at room temperature
• 1 (15-ounce) can pureed pumpkin
• 3 eggs plus 1 egg yolk
• 1/4 cup sour cream
• 1 1/2 cups sugar
• 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1/8 teaspoon fresh ground nutmeg
• 1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
• 2 tablespoon all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Directions

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.

For crust:

In medium bowl, combine crumbs, sugar and cinnamon. Add melted butter. Press down flat into a 9-inch springform pan. Set aside.

For filling:

Beat cream cheese until smooth. Add pumpkin puree, eggs, egg yolk, sour cream, sugar and the spices. Add flour and vanilla. Beat together until well combined.

Pour into crust. Spread out evenly and place oven for 1 hour. Remove from the oven and let sit for 15 minutes. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 4 hours.

And Yea, though I walk through the valley of F, I will fear no D-

I am a terrible student.

This wasn't always the case. Somewhere between high school and college I realized hey! no supervision! No one knows if I don't study! No one knows if I don't go to class! and I became lazy.

Not only lazy, but complacent. By the grace of God, and the grace of God alone, I assure you, I have been able to achieve a slightly better-than-average GPA.

I can't count the number of understanding professors, the test questions that spring from the one page of notes I happened to glance over, the essay prompts that I was able to research ahead of time without having to go to class.

But I realized, enough is enough. What's the point in stressing myself out when I'm cramming or waiting for a test to begin, or WORSE, waiting for a test to be returned? If I would just budget my time a little better, I would have more time to do everything I am supposed to do and everything I want to do. I might even have time to, you know, bring glory and praise to the Lord.

So that's what I'm going to try to do.

So help me, God. Even though He already has.

Curiouser and Curiouser

Today's post will be a random listing of oddities I observed in a time-span of approximately 30 minutes and 2 blocks. Mostly because this heat has rendered me lazy and uninspired (not that I'm complaining, mind you). And also because I, like most decent Americans, enjoy a good list.

1) Two women climbing out of a pick-up that were the QUEENS of Trailer Park, USA. They had the biggest, most peroxide-laden hair I've seen outside of television and the 80s. One had on a bright turquoise jumpsuit, a gold lamé purse and matching turquoise and gold bangles. And turquoise eyeshadow, of course. I initially thought this woman's hair was a wig.
It looked like this:


Except it was the distinct color of bottled Malfoy hair.

2) I was eating a delicious breakfast croissant at Jack in the Box and I watched as one by one, a small congregation of Latina women and their toddlers gathered. Not so strange. What offended my sensibilities, however, is the language one of the women was using. Multiple f-bombs, sh!ts, etc. were said in front of (and to!) children ages 2-4.

I accidentally made eye contact with one of them (they were across the restaurant, by the way, and I still heard every word) so I left.

3) At 7/11 I saw the new issue of Glamour. Scarlett Johansson is on the cover. She is not wearing pants. I find not wearing pants to be many things, but glamorous is not one of them.

It was like something out of the "The Exorcist"

October is shaping up to be a saucy wench. It's a cool 76 degrees (but feels like 79 degrees, according to Yahoo! weather). That's just sacrilegious! I'll give October a couple more days, because it's still the first half of the month. It has two days to get its act together.

Although, considering the events of the last 24 hours, it might be in my favor to cease making threats toward October.

Last night I was coughing and felt something come up (like a snot-ball), but much to my horror, when I spit it into a kleenex, I saw blood.

Blood. I coughed up BLOOD. And then I did it again. It was the scariest thing that's ever happened to me, other than almost being the target of a child predator in Taco Cabana while I was in high school. But I digress.

First I thought: "OHMYGOD!!!!!" Then I thought: "I wonder if I have Consumption, like in Moulin Rouge."

But then I realized that I'm not in the midst of a passionate love affair to be written about in the history books, or, you know, to be the subject of a smash Baz Luhrman film. So Consumption was clearly out of the picture.

After some sweet internet sleuthing on WebMD I was all CANCER! WHOOPING COUGH! TUBERCULOSIS! COLLAPSED LUNG WITH A SIDE OF AIDS! So I called the 24-hour UHS nurse advice line.

They are dead to me. Not helpful at all. They basically said, "Well, you probably won't die, so just call General Medicine D in the morning."

By that time, I knew that I most likely just had Hemoptysis (coughing up blood) due to a broken blood vessel brought about by a particularly harsh coughing spell. I presented my theory to General Medicine D and they agreed with me, though I had to spend the day checking my snot-balls for blood and taking my temperature.

What an appropriate start to the Halloween season. And clearly a reason I shouldn't threaten October on my blog anymore...

Heavier Fare

I clearly scared October into submission with my last post. It's now a jolly 65 degrees here. I assume the temperatures will continue to drop.

...Or else.

I'm going to be back to regular posting starting today, so be prepared. I am feeling a LOT better, though I still have a lingering cough that just won't die and I get tired pretty easily. Not that these things stopped me from attending opening weekend at the Texas Renaissance Festival with my friends Kristen and Patricia. It was epic. We had so much fun and had this ginormous photo shoot in the middle of the garden/forest walkway. And people kept stopping us asking to take our picture because we were that legit and beautiful.

I'm going to spare you the rambling post where I lament the fact that I wasn't born in another time. Be thankful.

When I got back to Austin today, I laid down on my couch, turned on the television, and took a 3.5 hour nap. No big deal, except that my screening for one of my classes starts at 5 and I woke up at 6:12. Whoops.

I went online a little while ago, to look at my French assignments, and lo and behold, I discovered that our screening for tonight had been canceled! I was immediately overcome with humbleness and I was awed by the fact at how perfectly each action fits into God's plan for us. I needed that nap, to ensure I stay healthy and to keep my mind sharp as I start to study. I also needed to go to the screening that didn't happen because I need to keep my grade up and to stay current on the topics we discuss in class.

I am astounded and blessed that my day turned out this way. I love getting reminders of how deep and how gracious is the Father's love for me, a fact I sadly am quick to forget or to dismiss.

We are singing a song in choir based off of Psalm 23 and I am currently obsessed with this verse.

Psalm 23

¹The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.

²He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.

³He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

⁴Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

⁵Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

⁶Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.

These are some other versus that speak of and remind us of the love that God has for us, his children:

Your love, O LORD, reaches to the heavens, your faithfulness to the skies (Psalm 36:5).

How priceless is your unfailing love! Both high and low among men find refuge in the shadow of your wings (Psalm 36:7).

But I am like an olive tree flourishing in the house of God; I trust in God's unfailing love for ever and ever (Psalm 52:8).

But you, O Lord, are a compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness (Psalm 86:15).

Give thanks to the God of heaven. His love endures forever (Psalm 136:26).

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future" (Jeremiah 29:11).

The LORD appeared to us in the past, saying: "I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with loving-kindness" (Jeremiah 31:3).

The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing" (Zephaniah 3:17).

For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life (John 3:16).

Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends (John 15:13).

As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love (John 15:9)



**P.S. sorry for the formatting issues, Blogger will not give me uniform fonts no matter how many times I try to change it.

Once there was the Sun, shining bright and wonderful.

Why yes, that was a quote from the 1994 classic Thumbelina.

In the category of "Other (un)Interesting Tidbits and Factoids": I went outside today. How come nobody told me it was 9000000 degrees outside?

I will having a few choice words with October when I no longer laugh to myself because I just pictured myself rolling like a little ball all over my apartment.

You will be soon enough. Bring out your dead!

Now that I have Swine Flu, a whole new set of etiquette questions arise.

If I hold my breath and walk really fast, is it appropriate to take out my trash? I have leftover microwave Mexican casserole to dispose of, people.

Is it appropriate to go on my balcony to try and absorb some vitamin D so that my only source of happiness isn't Big Mama?

Can I check my mail?

Is it acceptable that I haven't changed my clothes in three days?

Should I get angry if my friends don't take my Tamiflu rants seriously?

Is it okay to facebook stalk all my friends for 12+ hours a day?

The answer to all of these is no. No, these things are not okay.

And in other H1N1 news, I took my cough medicine last night. I didn't take it Monday night, when I got it, because I was so busy coughing up phlegm that I thought if something where to surpress my coughs then I would drown in un-coughed mucous.

Anyway, my coughing has decreased seven-fold today so I decided it was time to take the cough medicine. I poured it into the teaspoon and got nervous. It was the consistency of honey and the color of lemon-lime gatorade, the ONE flavor I detest above all non-juice flavored drinks.

I might have held my nose and said, "Ew, ew, ew, ewwwwww!"

Might have.

But you know what? It actually wasn't bad. Because, hello, I'm not four anymore and I've tasted things like 100 proof vodka. Which, coincidentally enough, might also cure swine flu. It is that potent.

The best thing about the cough medicine was how smoooooooooth it went down my sore, scratchy throat. Heaven in a little bottle. Unfortunately I forgot that everytime I bend over I cough up a snot-ball, so when I plugged in my phone for the night I spent the next 5 minutes trying to cough up THE TINIEST SNOT-BALL I HAVE EVER SEEN. And I've seen some tiny ones.

It was literally half the size of my pinky nail. And the smaller they are, the harder they are to get out. And if I don't get them out, I keep coughing and coughing until I'm crying and gagging and red in the face with this horrible, gurgling cough that quite literally sounds like something more appropriate for a 98 year old with terminal lung cancer. And the cough is so loud that I feel like everyone in my apartment complex can hear me, because hello, if I can hear you singing a terrible rendition of Kings of Leon's Somebody then you should be able to hear me hacking up snot-balls.

All this Swine Flu business is so glamorous. I went on to cough up 2 more tiny snot-balls at 4:30 in the morning last night. Because all I do is sleep in random 4-5 hour bursts, so I was awake at this time. And boy, oh, boy do I miss the days when the snot-balls were the size of quarters and took only one great, hacking cough to expel!

Is this too graphic for the internet? I'm sorry. I'm just trying to bring this illness to light. I mean, it's barely getting any media coverage. No one has even heard of it!

But hey! At least I'm one degree closer to Rupert Grint! <3

Bring out your dead! (I'm not dead yet!)

So I know some of you (-4) were worrying about me since I haven't posted since last week. You probably thought that I actually died of fright from seeing Paranormal Activity. Nope.

I have Swine Flu.

Thus I have spent the last 30 hours doped up on Mucinex DM, Tamiflu, Advil, and the inhaler for my bronchitis. Because H1N1 is not enough for this girl, no way, I need bronchitis to seal the deal!

What has this drug cocktail done for me?

I am less congested, and I have stopped coughing up snot-balls (Mmmmm), but more importantly, it's treated me to these daydreams/hallucinations/fever-dreams:

1)My high school geography teacher (who is young and fabulous and still my friend), my friend and I going on a cruise. On said cruise I fell and skinned my knee (sound familiar?) and my teacher helped me pick the scab.

2) I was on a TV show with Dick Van Dyke called Diagnosis: Swine Flu! The opening credits were terrifying.

3) Crocs were attacking me. The shoes, not the reptiles.

Back to regular posting when I can breathe sans labor again and when I can leave self-quarantine.

EDIT: And ALSO to assume that THE ONLY THING THAT COULD POSSIBLY TASTE GOOD is microwavable Mexican Casserole...

I was wrong.

Is Tamiflu supposed to make me crave mexican casserole, garlic bread, corn bread, orange sherbert and strawberries (not all at once)?

EDIT 2: I regret spending $100+ for a weekend where I would be frightened to death and get swine flu on someone who thinks it's FUNNY that I'm dieing. Dying. In the process of meeting death.

That means you, Jeremy.

EDIT 3: I regret saying that, that was mean. We should all find humor in every situation.

And now I'm going to go back to bed before this post gets me forever quarantined because I'm that annoying.

The L-Files: Mysterious Laundry Happenings

Why is it, dear Internet, that no matter how many I buy, I NEVER have enough hangers? Come laundry day (which, to be frank, comes about once every 1.5 months, because I have an inordinate amount of clothing) I am always left scrounging around, looking for hangers. Although I do shop a lot, I just don't think that my shopping to hanger ratio is so disproportionate.

Maybe my closet eats them.

No, that's irrational. Closets can't eat!! Maybe there's a vortex IN my closet that sucks empty hangers inside itself and then turns them into dust and blows the dust all over my shelves. That would explain so much.

And in other unsettling laundry occurrences, I've been losing a LOT of socks lately. Stupid dryer vortex. Apparently my apartment is a right cosmic center for quasars and other intergalactic phenomena.

AND (oh, yes, there's more) this is the most disturbing thing of all: Today I put my bras in one of those little mesh bra bags (so the hooks don't snag your other clothes, of course). I remember for sure that I put them in the bag, because I set it aside and forgot about it. I loaded in my other delicates and started the washing machine. Then I turned around and saw the mesh bag, so I threw it in with the rest of the load.

When the wash cycle was done, I loaded the dryer handful by handful (because my washing machine won't stay open due to poor shelf planning by the apartment complex) and I suddenly noticed that a bra was in my hand. One I DEFINITELY had in the mesh bag because it is my 'spensive and fansssy brassiere.

The bag was nowhere to be found. NOWHERE.

Unless it's in the dryer. I got tired of bending over, so I gave up my search pretty early.

But still, CREEPY. Cue Twilight Zone theme song.

Hitchcock Knows Best

As per usual, I'd like to begin today with a letter to September:

Dear September,

I am so glad this is the last day of you. You have done nothing but disappoint me and play mind games. Are you bipolar or something? You're hot then you're cold.

You're yes and you're no. I can't figure you out.

Maybe next year, if you change, we can reexamine our relationship. For now, you are dead to me.

xoxo,
Kaitlin



Why would I break up with September in such a public arena?

Because it's approximately 9000 degrees outside even though HEB started selling pumpkins already. And even though the weather is not getting in the mood for fall, fate and irony certainly are. More specifically, in the mood for Halloween.

When I was walking back from the gym, I started to get really uncomfortable as I heard the unmistakable screech of a flock of blackbirds hidden among the trees.

Now, internet, it may be too early in our relationship to divulge this tidbit, but I'm going to go there:

I'm afraid of birds. That's ornithophobia for all you academic types. Why yes, I did just google fear of birds to get that word! I haven't been formally diagnosed by a psychiatrist, although many would argue I should consult one. For several reasons, such as that I was late to the gym today because I had to step on every leaf in my path, on the offchance it would give that satisfying crunch...

Anyway, back to my ornithophobia. Because this is a rare (and stupid) condition, I will elaborate on my symptoms. No, really, I want to.

I am not afraid of small birds like little swallows and sparrows and whatnot. I'm not going to e their best friend, but I'm not afraid of them. The exception is the hummingbird, because I fear I will hear a rustling and in the next instant, a sharp, needle-like beak will peirce my eardrum and the hummingbird will suck my brains out like that sweet nectar.

I am nothing if not realistic.

I am comforted by the thought that I could probably thump a hummingbird away before it could lacerate my eardrum. Anyway, I'm really just afraid of big birds. Not to be confused with Big Bird. He's cool.

When I hear a bird chirp or call or squeal or screech I get goosebumps on the back of my neck. And then I start to be really afraid that the bird will attack me. I JUST KNOW that the evil bird will peck either my eardrum (again with the ears...) or the little nob at the base of your neck in the back. Like where your spine starts. It's irrational, it's terrible, it makes me walk crazier than when I step on every leaf.

So I was walking home and there was literally a FLOCK of birds in the trees on the side of the street I was on. I am not ashamed to say that I stepped in front of a car to get out of the war path.

Birds have flown into my head/face multiple times. This is not completely unfounded.

And no, I have not seen The Birds and I NEVER will. Why would I willingly submerge myself in my deepest fear without professional aid? The original Psycho scared me to death and Rear Window used to creep me out when I was younger. Hitchcock knows how to scare me WITHOUT my greatest fear.

So, yes, that is the only Hitchcock I will never see.

You like me! You really like me!

I'm afraid I have nothing interesting to talk about today.

"But Kaitlin", you ask, "how is that any different from any other post?"

Well, it's not. Except that I'm acknowledging it. And they say acknowledging you have a problem is the first step. I don't know what it's a step towards, but apparently I'm on a journey. I hope I packed clean underwear.

And that is a tangent that no one needed to experience.

I suppose I will just beguile you all with a list of my random thoughts. And by you all I mean me.

1. One of my best friends is coming to visit me (and other people) this weekend. I'm super excited. We are going to all the best (and by best I mean tastiest) places in Austin. One of the things we're doing is seeing Paranormal Activity. It's apparently the new Blair Witch Project and the scariest movie ever and blah blah blah. I am equal parts excited and terrified.

Scary movies and I have an awkward, sadistic relationship. The last scary movie I saw was Guillermo del Toro's The Orphanage and I watched it alone and it truly wasn't that scary. I clearly survived. The movie before that was The Strangers and it almost killed me. Like I went into dry heaves in the movie theatre.

Now, I am a STRONG believer in movie-watching ambiance. A scary movie in the theatre will ALWAYS be scarier than watching it in your dorm room. Or in sunlight. The people you watch horror films with are also very important. I hate watching with cynical people or with people who think you're lame if you get scared (unless it's a truly un-scary movie, like the remake of Psycho. You just don't touch Hitchcock, people ).

Anyway, The Strangers scarred me for life and if you don't think that movie is at least a little scary, then you need to watch it in the theatre with better people and A HUMAN SOUL. I saw it with my friend Rebekah and I made her sleep over with me for the next two nights. I am still afraid to look out windows at night and when I hear a knock on the door, my heart falls into my feet and my mouth goes dry. Even when I'm expecting the pizza man. AND I WILL NEVER, EVER STAY IN A PLACE WITH NO PEEPHOLE ON THE FRONT DOOR.

Hmmmhmmmm.

That was a long rambling way of saying that I may or may not survive this weekend.

2. I won an auction on eBay!!! I'd like to thank the academy... But I'd also like to point out how terrible I am in waiting for something to arrive in the mail. I will also be very upset if I die of fright before my beautiful purchase gets delivered.


3. My soul and body aches for Christmas so badly that I could cry just by thinking of the cheeriness and the chilliness and (woah, chilliness is a word...) a time in life when I don't have to worry about Michael Myers, paranormal activity, or strangers.

Because at Christmastime, there's no such thing as strangers!

Until they torture you to death and steal your eBay purchase. Then you can safely assume you didn't know them very well after all.

Why is Rachel Ray telling me a drunk story about her mother?

I am watching the Food Network (as per usual) and Rachel Ray's 30 Minute Meals was just on. She was making a Limoncello Tart and it looked AMAZING. However, halfway through she launches on this story about her first "group" date with her now-husband, where her mom got drunk off of Limoncello (who brings their mom on a date?) and now RR's husband calls RR's mom "Mamacello".

I'm sorry I just wasted a minute of your life. That was definitely the abridged version, too.

But hey, if you've come this far, you might as well waste a couple of more minutes in your life, because it's not like you have important things to do like study or support your family or end world hunger. All those things I don't do.

Anyway, The huge wound on my knee is healing alright. My hand wound, however is festering. I realized yesterday that it was infected due to my keen medical knowledge. And the fact that it hurt really bad, was red in the skin around the wound, oh yeah, and had yellow pus-like material oozing out when I removed the band-aid. (Bet you don't want that Limoncello Tart anymore, eh?)

So I headed to HEB for the quaint grocery selection of:
Ice Cream
Something for Dinner
Something to heal the raging infection coursing through my veins

Piece of cake. Or, you, know, Limoncello Tart.

Anwyay, I stood in the First Aide aisle in HEB, buying hydrogen peroxide, iodine, guaze strips, this weird waterproof medical tape, epsom salts (to soak my hand in. I had no idea it had laxative properties. I was extremely embarrassed at the register, as I imagined the cashier thought I had ALL kinds of issues.), and a first aide kit. Because I should really not have to buy band-aids when I'm already bleeding.

Plus, if I ever go camping like the kids on the front, I'll be totally prepared for complete isolation, starvation and frostbite!!! There's even a page in the little first aide booklet that talks about what to do if part of you gets accidentally amputated. My response would be to cry, faint, and beg God to take me home; but apparently you're supposed to seal the wayward limb in a waterproof bag and put it on ice, making sure it doesn't get wet or freeze. (Hey, you actually learned something by reading my blog today! 5 Gold Stars!)

...Gross.

I felt so grown up buying things like hydrogen peroxide (3% concentration, for first aide purposes. I'm not going blonde.) I have an injury, I identified it as infected, I bought the appropriate materials, and treated myself. I'm so independent!

I was hit with a big wave of nostalgia as I poured the hydrogen peroxide on my knee. (Man I wish I knew the chemical symbols of Hydrogen Peroxide so that I didn't have to keep typing the whole name. HPe0. Or something.) I distinctly remember the brown HPe0 bottle in my mom's linen closet, remember her treating me and helping me heal wounds with it. And here I am doing it myself.

I guess I'm not a little girl anymore.

Except that I bought batman bandaids and still watch Nickelodeon.

A Sincere Apology

Dear September,

I'm sorry if I've offended you.

If you feel like being November, you go ahead and be November.

If you feel like being April... Don't.

xoxo, Kaitlin

Now that that's taken care of, I'd like to share with you the concluding chapter of THE CURSE OF THE WORLD'S WORST UMBRELLA!!! (I know, you're only excited because I said this was the conclusion.)

Friday morning, after sleeping in and eating breakfast I decided that after my workout I would go sell back some of my old textbooks. So I packed up my huge biology book and two others I would never use again and set out for the gym. The books were really heavy and slowed my pace somewhat, but I was still making good time, despite the fact that my feet were hurting due to the fact that my crappy tennis shoes give me little to no arch support.

Anyways, I was walking along when a wayward wind or maybe the CURSE of my umbrella caused me to step off of the sidewalk. My will was strong, however, and I fought valiantly, therefore causing only half of my foot to fall on the grass. That caused the awkward ankle-wobble maneuver that toddlers and inexperienced girls walking in heels do often.

The ankle-wobble was fine. I caught myself and pulled myself upright with dexterity that was frankly quite ninja-esque. What I didn't count on was the 90 lbs of books in my backpack that would take me down with them as they gained momentum. In a flash I was on the ground, half of me in the soft grass, the other half splayed on the cobblestone sidewalk (OF DOOM).

I looked down and noticed that there was a chunk of my hand missing that was roughly the size of one of our miniature cobblestones as well as a tiny chunk of my thumb that had been scraped away. Both began to bleed. I then noticed that my knee was stinging really bad, but by that point I had been sitting in the grass, staring at my hands for about 10 seconds, watched the whole time by a nearby construction worker.

So I got up and continued walking to the gym, bleeding more and more. When I got there, I showed my injuries to my trainer, H, and she was prepared with bandaids. She took me into the bathroom and cleaned me up (further solidifying the fact that I was 5) and we went on with our workout.

Problem solved... Not. My knee? Is ugly. It's so bad, There is a bruise roughly the size of a softball and in the middle of that softball is another missing chunk of my body that is lying somewhere on the cobblestone sidewalk. I took pictures of my injuries, but when I showed my best friend my injuries via video-chat, he practically cried at how gross and hideous they are. Therefore I will not be posting pictures, but have them on-hand incase Christian Hill calls me and tells me I can sue the school.

Saturday dawned a much happier (if hotter) day, and with I slight limp I set out for today's adventures. In a nutshell (or in a blog), today could be summarized as: Went shopping with Rebekah. Ate lunch with Rebekah. Went shopping with Kathryn, Ate dinner with Kathryn.

But of course other things happened, which I will elaboratie upon later. Right now I'm going to limp to bed, slather on some neosporin and try not to let the covers touch the raw, sensitive skin of my chunked knee.

I Have Guacamole in my Hair (And other classy situations!)

I have been on a mexican food kick recently and today was no exception. I skipped a class (for shame!) to write a paper that was due and instead of maximizing the 1 and 1/2 hours I had to write, I got on facebook and read blogs and messed around until I had 45 minutes left to write 2 pages.

And then I made nachos. And then I had about 30 minutes to write my paper and eat a steaming plate of nachos. I tried to do both at once... in my bed. This resulted in the most crumb-covered sheets you've ever seen and me getting guacamole in my hair (which I found in class...) and sour cream on my shirt. I am nothing if not a classy, dignified lady with perfect time management skills.

And I forgot to mention last night/this morning one of the most annoying things about THE WORST UMBRELLA IN THE WORLD (Oh, yes, there's more. Just when you thought I'd never bore you again, I bring it back into the spotlight. This is the gift that keeps on giving, my friends). When the umbrella becomes annoyed with staying in the traditional right-side-out position, it catches every single bit of wind and tries to turn inside out. I am diligent in fighting this umbrella urge and 14/15 times I prevent it from turning inside out. But in the prevention, the umbrealla SNAPS back into position, thusly flicking water at my face. Every. Time.

I hate that umbrella. And that my hair smells like Los Cucos.

Dear September, You are not November. Xoxo Kaitlin

Because I am considered the "kid genius" of the meteorology profession by my most esteemed colleagues (my toes and my A/C), I've decided to give you my professional opinion concerning the weather.

This is Texas' version of California's June Gloom. I've dubbed it the September Doldrums. (My thesis concerning the matter should be published... never.) It feels like November outside but without the cheeriness of the holidays that is so interconnected with cold weather for me. I'm not sure how to feel about this. On one hand I'm happy I no longer have to subject the people on campus to the sight of me in shorts, sweating with my 50 lb backpack walking approximately 50 of our 40 acre campus... barefoot in the snow, uphill both ways (okay, I'll retire that expression now). But on the other hand, it's been raining and cold for approximately all of a week (That is a mathematical statistic. The source is in my thesis) but without the cheeriness and encouragement that the holiday season instills in me.

This puts me in such marvelous situations as trying to find my cool-weather work-out clothes which have magically shrunk so that they are the world's most awkward high-waters, forcing me to roll them into the world's most awkward capris. Then I had to throw on a shirt that didn't match, my pink and gray tennis shoes and my WB sweatshirt (which is the most comfortable sweatshirt ever and roughly the color of prison clothes) and Hey! I'm good to go! And so sexy. Add THE WORST UMBRELLA IN THE UNIVERSE and you've got yourself a prime catch. Remember, gentlemen, I'm single!

But I digress. Back to my umbrella issue, I literally have to fight it with every single gust of wind. I'm pretty sure if I even walk too quickly, it turns inside out. The very beating of a hummingbird's wings could upset this sissy umbrella. And if a raindrop hits exactly on the middle of the top, the raindrop falls through a hole that has appeared. That's convenient. Anyway, it's the only brolly I have (where did the others go??) so I'm stuck with it until I can make my way over to Target.

And I can't make my way over to Target because I have a ginormous sheet of glass in my car that I can't move by myself but no one is stepping up to the plate to help me move it so there it sits. I'm just paranoid it's going to shatter/kill someone/get me a ticket because it can't be safe driving with a giant sheet of glass unsecured in your back seat. Just guessing. So after one terrifying trip to HEB (speed bumps), there has been no more driving adventures for Kaitlin and Glassy.

And I once again digress...

Back to my umbrella. Which is really a boring story in and of itself, so I'm not sure how this transformed into a post about my umbrella. I must have depleted my vast tank of meteorology information. Which I could have used as I was walking back from Jester to my apartment. (Nice segue!) As I was fighting the evil spokes (?) of my umbrella, I swear, they took a life of their own and turned invisible or something because a guy straight up walked into my umbrella. With his face. It was tragic, but he avoided shish-kabobing his eye. Which was one of the best parts of my day.

So I made it safely the last couple blocks toward my apartment and then somewhere in the last block... the bottom of my umbrella fell off. The knob thing where you hold it and where the wrist strap is attached. I didn't notice it until I had passed it otherwise I would have picked it up. It just fell off and get this: it screws on. I DO NOT understand how this happened but I am starting to think that this umbrella is cursed and that by packing it in my backpack every day I might actually be bringing a pox on the university.

Or, you know, swine flu.

Why aren't there more songs concerning solfeggio?

So I just (and by just I mean 4 hours ago...) got back from day 1 of our Men&Women's Chorus "Retreat". I'm not sure why they chose to call it a "Retreat" when it's in the music school. On campus. I mean, sure it takes me 30 minutes to walk in the increasingly heavy rain, clutching ~42 cookies in one hand, the WORLD'S WORST UMBRELLA in the other, fighting ever little gust of wind... barefoot, in the snow, uphill both ways... but that's no reason to call it a "Retreat". I'm even less sure why they marketed the "Retreat" as a social between M&WC when the first thing we did was sing warm ups... without talking to each other. Then we arranged ourselves alphabetically according to first name... without talking, using only sign language. It really helped us build our sound as a choir.

Then we split up, men in one room, women in another and worked on our respective music selections. Then we had dinner "together," meaning the girls sat together and the boys sat together on the other side of the room. Then we split back up. Then we came back "together" for dessert. Then we left. I feel like I know each and every member of the choir SO well.

Alright, I'm being a bit cynical. Because something marvelous DID happen at dinner. I noticed that below the noise of ~100 singers talking and eating, there was a song from Wicked being played. I glanced around and saw a man on the piano and a girl quietly singing beside him. I kept my eye on the pair, unsure of whether or not I could join in. Then Popular started up and I made a bee-line to the group, where two other girls and a couple of guys were now gathered. We sang. I sang loudly because, ya'll, that's my JAM. More people came, some to watch (I love impromptu performances that prove I am, indeed, cooler than the rest of these people) some to sing along. Song after song, we grew. For Good, A Whole New World, Colors of the Wind, I Just Can't Wait to be King, Hakkuna Mattata... We covered all the basics. And by basics, I mean the most amazing songs EVER.

Eventually we were broken up by one of our directors (RUDE.) but we vowed to get to The Little Mermaid tomorrow morning. I can't wait. That was truly the most fun I've had in a long time and I am completely obsessed with choir again. OBSESSED. And I met some of the coolest girls! Siiiiiigh... that's not the first time something magical has happened around a piano.

Regarding the cookies, they were a huge success and I'm pretty sure they made me more friends than my effervescent charm and sparkling wit. Which is fine by me! And I remembered to take pictures when I was almost finished so I'll post the few I got tomorrow as well as a link to the recipe. They are SO GOOD. Definitely going in the repertoire of special goodies.

And now, dear friends (/empty, desolate Internet), I must to bed, for I have another 30-minute hike into the wilderness for leg two of our "Retreat" tomorrow, and I have to leave in 6 and 3/4 hours.

Fair morrow!

Who washed Washington's white woolen underwear when Washington's washer-woman went west?

Now that, my friends, is a pertinent question in today's political landscape. I was surprised President Obama didn't address this issue in his State of the Union address.

Okay, I lied. It's an old choir warm up I used to sing, dating back to ye olde junior high choir. The only thing squeakier than a junior high choir member is the one standing next to him. Why am I talking about choir at all?

This semester I am in the Women's Chorus at UT and I am 10000000% in love with it. We are singing the most beautiful songs... EVER. I've always had a penchant for treble choirs. I'm not sure why, but in my experience, the closer the harmonies, the more beautiful. The exception being "Ecco Mormorar L'onde" which the mixed choir sang my senior year of high school. That is arguably my favorite piece of choral music... ever.

Anyways, this is all an incredibly round-about way of saying that we're having a choir social/get together/retreat/meet and greet/smell each other's feet weekend. We women of the Women's chorus are to provide dessert and I just so happened to volunteer to bake cookies.

I've narrowed it down to three choices and am going to make two. I think I know the two I'm going to make, but I'm going to take all 3 recipes with me to the store tomorrow in case I run into an ingredient snafu. (P.S. The word "snafu" does NOT get used enough.) I will post pictures tomorrow as well as my reviews of the goods tomorrow. The recipes all come from the Patron Saint of Buttery Goodness: Ms. Paula Deen, ya'll!!!

I can't wait! It's been far too long since I've baked cookies.

I DECLARE BANKRUPTCYYYYY!!!!!

Alright, so I'm not bankrupt. And if I were and wished to declare it, yelling it wouldn't accomplish anything; something I learned from Michael Scott, Regional Manager of Dunder Mifflin: Scranton. (AKA The Office for anyone out there with a life.) I'm actually quite far from bankruptcy. Well, as far as the next college student, anyway. I'm just slowly (okay, one Target trip at a time) working my way through my savings and that makes me nervous. Mostly because then I won't have enough money to splurge on the Day After Thanksgiving sales racks... but I digress.

I have come to the conclusion that I should get a job. I have also come to the conclusion that I'm taking 13 hours of upper division coursework and have a @#$^-ton of reading to complete on any given day. And so I've been spending my time (instead of studying or interviewing for an actual job, of course) researching "Get Rich Quick" scams. And alas, they are almost all scams. And by almost all I mean every last one of them. EXCEPT for the Amazon Mechanical Turk program, where I can do simple, menial tasks and get paid $0.05 and up! Please, hold your applause. I'm not six years old. $0.05 is only half as exciting as it was when I was six. Although, let's be honest here, when I was six I thought a penny was the most valuable coin because it was the closest to gold and it was bigger than the dime...

*Tangent: Skip ahead if you don't care to read my thoughts on American coinage.
What the heck is up with our coins? One copper coin and three (minus specialty pieces like the fidycent piece or the silver dollar)sliver ones. Being over the age of six, I can understand that copper is less valuable than silver. And in a similar vein, I could understand if the copper coin was bigger than the closest valued silver coin, because you could (excuse the expression) get more bang for your buck with copper. BUT I cannot, will not, should not have to understand and accept why the second biggest coin in our money system is the nickel which is the second smallest in monetary value. Why waste the silver on a 5 cent piece? I don't understand! Simply switch the dime and the nickel sizes and my life would be that much more complete. WHO MADE THIS DECISION?!?????

End Tangent.*

Anyways, when all my "Work from Home and be a Pajama Kabajillionaire!" schemes proved to be just schemes, I turned my sights on good, honest work: Nannying. I registered with several Nanny agencies only to begin filling out my profile and get to a section that said "List your most recent 3 professional childcare experiences". This proved a problem since I've only done light babysitting and helped to raise my brother. And then I would get angry because #1) You couldn't have told me I'd need references IN THE BEGINNING and #2) How the heck am I supposed to break into the Nannying industry? and #3) Why, o why, am I trying to break into the Nannying industry?

And so here I sit, jobless, watching The Golden Girls which, quite honestly, is not a poor existence... for a ninety-year-old great-grandmother. So I've decided to put myself on a budget. Confessions of a Shopaholic-style. Except for my wardrobe has a lot more Target Brand and a lot less Fendi.

And there lies my new project: Healthy, happy living on a budget. And for day one, I went to Target and promptly bought a $30.00 dress...

Well, here's to tomorrow: May my mistakes not repeat themselves!

Undone By Mercy

I realized something today. I’m letting other people and other things live my life for me. I’m not taking responsibility for my own actions and my own inactions. I’m praying, asking God for guidance, for aid, for purpose, for determination, and then I am turning languidly to the other side, and becoming angry because so and so did this. I am complaining about things I did to myself, things that fall under my jurisdiction. I am caught in a web of dishonesty, of failure, and of greed, and I built it myself. I built it around myself. God has been following me, the ever-diligent Father, cleaning up after me, rebuilding my bridges after I’ve burned them. Enough.
Once again, Matt Carter’s sermon proved so true. Just two days ago, I left church wondering how the message would be played out in my life. How God would use the recession in my life as a gift. And here it is. Here is rock bottom. And here is salvation. May my sins be revealed, may my slate be wiped clean. I’m done with complacency, with blaming others, with inaction. I am going to start living my life. Though the thought of it still seems a little overwhelming, I have unshakable trust in God. In His plan. I’ve always had that. What I didn’t have was the understanding that I, too, have a part in this. I can’t lie in my bed and expect my life to transform. I can’t openly deny the will of God and expect it to play out anyway. I’m simultaneously the car, the speedbump, and the road of my life.
Well I’m done. I’m doing this. So watch out.

Oh, Sweet, Sweet Lawds.

I am in shock.

I just went to go put something on my desk. After doing so, I walked into the bathroom. After standing back and doing Ye Olde 3-Point-Turn Do I Look Skinny Today? Maneuver, I approached the mirror. I was pleased to see my hair still looked good, despite sleeping on it and running about HEB like a crazy person for an hour or so. I then bent over, invading the mirror's personal space, looking for pimples, clogged pores, pock marks, little alien invaders, anything worth picking. I flipped my hair back to look at the right side of my face, and see a brown smear of chocolate on my face. My thoughts? What the hell? When did I eat chocolate? Ew, that's probably not chocolate. I probably got it on my face when I was making lunch. It's probably black bean juice that dried.

Wrong.

I licked my finger, and rubbed at the spot. It came off. Along with like 5 layers of my skin. I stood there, in shock, looking at this white circle on my forehead (which was now burning like a mother trucker), wondering: What. The. HELL? I then vaguely recalled hitting my face with the curling iron last night. It didn't even hurt when I did it. APPARENTLY my skin is different. Apparently MY skin needs 24 hours to develop into a peel-able scabby callousy patch of ugly.

I'm not sure you realize the stupidity of this situation: I burned my FACE. MY FACE. Fml. And apparently when you burn your face, it peels off. And takes your tan with it. So then you have a little circle of white, surrounded by a little bit of chocolatey/poop/dried black bean juice looking skin. Which makes you look like you have Face Herpes.

Fantastic.

Another Attempt at Relevancy

Do you know what I was wondering as I was driving down the highway today? No, not that my Snickers bar is inconveniently located in my purse but under my sunglasses case. Also not that the word "maniacal" has a REALLY weird spelling. These things are, of course, true; but they are not what I was thinking.

What I was thinking was this: What if I had road rage outside of my car the way I do in my car?? Take what happened to me on Friday: An old lady cut in front of me to get to the Express Lane at the supermarket. My real life reaction was: "Rude! Oh, wait, she's old. I should offer to help her. Or I could get distracted by these gum flavors...Pomagranate Twist? Could it be??!?" What if, instead of being borderline-helpful/ADD, I had reacted like I did today, when someone cut me off in a merge lane. That reaction yielded very un-ladylike and un-Christian-like behavior. Which I regret. (At least the only visible sign was my yelling mouth. I do not flip birds, as I hate birds and would not want to accidently throw up a gang sign that basically invited them to kill me.) That lead me to wondering why I would do these things in my car that I would never do in public/ to someone who could hear me. What kind of sick double standard is that? What is it about the car that makes it a conduit for rage and outlandish behavior? I get positively irate behind the wheel, but when someone cuts me off on campus or in the supermarket, I'm angry for a second and then move on. Is it because I see an annoying "BRTTNY" license plate and not the actual person?

I don't really have a conclusion or a solution for this... I will resolve to have a more Christian attitude on the road. So I guess that's something. But in the mean time, I'm still left wondering why this happens. And I know it's not just me. Or is it? Hey look over there! I thought I lost that list! That's crazy! Hey, look again! That magazine! I remember when I bought that one magazine with Angelina Jolie. She's too skinny. I also don't want her to adopt another baby. OMGosh there was the cutest baby EVER in Friday's today. Mmmmm. I wish I had more sweet potato fries. Those were yummy. I also need to stop eating so much. Dangit, Easter Bunny. You're responsible for this weight gain. You and my Meme. Why do some people spell it Mimi? That's weird.

No. No, I'm weird.

Because History? Is so Passé.

The following took place via text message in the middle of my biology class. Because apparently I'm not going to listen to any of my professors today. In any case; enjoy and revel in the nerdiness.

Me: Class is dumb. The End.
Rebekah: I agree. The End.
Me: My body hurts. The Middle.
Rebekah: My presentation is soon. The Beginning.
Me: That's awesome you can almost be relieved. The Prequel.
Rebekah: I love you. The Sequel.
Me: I love you too and we're awesome. The Trilogy.
Rebekah: I know haha. Have a lovely day. The Epilogue.
Me: Until we meet again. The Cliffhanger.
Rebekah: Hahahaha good one. The preface.
Me: Thank you. The Dedication.
Rebekah: "You're welcome," she said. The References.

What would I do without my friends???

In other recent news, I just found out this morning that a short film I had the blessing to be a part of has been nominated for a 2009 Remi Award at the Worldfest Houston International Film Festival. We don't know yet how our other film has fared, as the director told us nominations are still being made. In any case, I am so, so, so proud, ecstatic... speechless... I think I needed this little push to assure me that I am doing what God wants me to do and that even in my younger years, I had the gifts and resources to be recognized by the industry. If even in a small way. :) I'm so so so so soooooooooooooooooooo excited. I don't really know why. I just am. :)This could not have come at a better time. I'm sorry this post isn't entirely witty or sardonic or even delightfully melancholy. But I'm verklempt!

I'd like to thank the Academy...

To Nap, or To Blog? I Choose Blog.

That's right. That's how committed I am to making this one of the most successful blogs...OF ALL TIME. Though not too committed, in case I still fail, and later need to retract my statement, claiming I always knew I was too cool for blogging, and thusly never really tried. But I digress...

Plus I really wanted to eat some hummus. And I can't really eat hummus while I nap. Which is simultaneously a huge shame and a blessing. Because how awesome would it be to never have to part from my one true love?? On the other hand, my waistline and my sense of decorum thank me, because how 1) fattening and 2) repulsive. Can you imagine someone eating in their sleep? Think of the smacking, the slurping, the burping! Oh, the horror, the horror! I would say I digress again, but I now realize I never had a point to this post to begin with, so it is impossible to stray from something you never had. Unless you count Tom Cruise going out of his mind. Because he did. And I doubt it was ever there anyways.

In any case, my roommate and I watched Footloose the other day. Mmmmmm. Kevin Bacon. I'm sad they're remaking it. It's too soon. And all those gratuitous dance scenes really speak to me, even though they are stylistically antiquated. (Do I sound smart now? Good, 'cause:)I'm, like, super bummed that Zac Efron dropped out of the remake!! Because I like, totally <3 him!!! ... And in conclusion, I'd like to say that dropping out of the remake was probably a wise career move, because, honestly? How many gratuitous dance scenes with Zac-y Poo... hmmhmm... Zac Efron does America need?? Well... probably a few more. You can bet on it (bet on it! Bet on it, bet on it!).

And now, to prove that I'm relevant and make you forget about the previous paragraph, I'd like to point out that as depressing as this sounds, I just don't see how the Israeli/Palestinian 2-State Solution will ever work. I may or may not (will not) expound upon my theories in a later post.

Seacrest out!

Weekend = Godsend

I often find myself snickering at the stupidity of those "friends" on Facebook who feel inclined to compose the obligatory Sunday update. This compulsion gives us, the internet community, such gems as "Fun weekend, but now I need to study calc!", "Woohoo! Vodka night with the girls was badass!", and "Last night was fun. Can't wait for next weekend- the tRi DeLt PaRtY!!! WoOoOhOo!!" And yet, to my own chagrin as well to that of the others around me, I still feel compelled to say:

What a glorious weekend! I spent it doing absolutely nothing. That's right, you heard (read?) me; Nothing. Well, actually, in hindsight, I did something. But not enough somethings to negate the nothings. Because I watched 3, count them 3, nothing up my sleeves, nothing in my hat, movies on Lifetime. And Lifetime is like the Great Equalizer of Nothingness. Any somethings you might have accomplished become consumed by the Nothingness of Lifetime.

In any case, I started my weekend out with a Fun-Filled Friday (ha). Worked out at 9. That wasn't so fun, except for that it did, in fact, release endorphins, therefore making me happy, albeit sore. And smelly. 'Twere I in a Victorian-era parlor, instead of a modern day gymnasium (which, frankly, I don't know how or why I would accomplish such a feat) the smelling salts would've had a busy day as I would have offended the sensibilities of ladies to the point of fainting. In any case... after a brief stop to buy some Powerade Zero to replenish my electrolites and a slightly longer shower, I met Kathryn for a delicious Sushi lunch and even better conversation. :) Then we walked to Jester and split a delicious cake for dessert. Then I went to CVS and shopped for makeup (don't worry I didn't buy any) before meeting Cristina for coffee. Well technically we met for tea, but that was happenstance. (Also? We as a society don't use "happenstance" often enough.) And it was amazing. Good conversation, Good god time, good perspective on life.

Then commenced the doing nothing. Sure I've cleaned the kitchen 3 times. Sure I reorganized my closet and am working on my desk. But that's it, people. I watched like... 8 hours of Little Miss Perfect. Watched a @#$^ton of Lifetime. Watched The Notebook. Let myself sleep as long as I wanted/needed to on BOTH Saturday and Sunday. As I said; What a glorious weekend! One I greatly needed. Seeing as I have an overabundance of stupid schoolwork and a History midterm this week. If I hadn't had this weekend... It would've been full on dragon-lady.

Because Time is of the Essence.

First of all: Eff you, Daylight Savings Time.

Now that that's taken care of, I would like to inform everyone that the Spring restlessness set in today. I can't believe I am sitting here, studying biology. That I will read for government and do french homework. Is this my life??? ("Is this real life?? Is this forever? AHHHHH!" http://tinyurl.com/c59334 )

UPDATE: I'm in Government class now. And I'm just as restless, just as angry. Although happier now that bio is over with and my french examen orale is done. I can't believe I'm already to this point in early March. I usually don't get like this until April. But I do become this irrational, restless energy-machine at least once a year. Usually in spring. I just start to panic that I'm not doing anything. I don't mean as in I sit around and watch TV all day. Au contraire, mon frere. I mean I'm not making a difference, I'm not making a recognizable or effective contribution to life. I'm not DOING anything. Just a little tiny nobody in a school in a city in a state in a country in a continent in a world in a planet in a solar system in a galaxy in infinity. I am nothing. And yet, I am something.

Do you know what I'm not? A good student. I'm not able to concentrate. I'm not good at sitting still. At doing NOTHING.

So if I call you, begging you to do something with me, or just talk to me, or listen to some silly idea or half-assed attempt at a plan... just listen and smile and assure me that I'm not wasting my life away by living simply. KThanksBye.

I'm Plagarzing Myself

But it's from Myspace. And No one reads Myspace.
Why are we (we being the book freaks who read, nay, devour literature at a surprising if somewhat rabid rate) so enamored with books? The beauty of the prose, the complexity (or lack thereof) of the characters, the ludicrousness of the situations, the twists and turns of the plot... it's all intoxicating in the most glorious of fashions. But why? What is it about books that touch us so deeply and profoundly? Is it because it satiates our perverse need to be someone else, live other lives? Is it a sick way to cut ourselves down or build ourselves up? I'm not lucky enough to be like Bella, she has Edward. Or: well, I certainly have it better than Kartik. To be outcasted like that and without family? 'Tis a shame indeed... Or is it the town gossip in all of us that delights in being able to see the thoughts and actions of others in a most candid way? Is it their (their being books, of course) ability to take us places we've never even dare imagine for fear of reality becoming that much more jolting? I don't know. I don't know, but I do so love to read.

Why are we (we being those who listen) so affected by music? What is it about the plaintive reverberations of a violin string that brings tears to the eyes, each an individual, pearlescent reverberation of former pain and sympathy? What is it about a mad guitar rif that brings even the most painfully shy kid shockingly and animatedly to life? What is it about the smooth texture of the piano keys that heals the heart's wounds? What is it about the guitar strings that deepens them? Why is it that a beautiful melody can evoke emotions you never even knew you possessed? What is it about lyrics (the prose of song, you could say) that bridge that ever-shifting and ever-evasive gap between heart and mind? Why is it that music is so powerful in the embodiment of our emotions? Born from the heart of God and carried to earth on the sweet beat (ha) of the angels' wings, music is the universal language. But why? Why can people with seemingly NOTHING in common be so similarly effected by song? I don't know. I don't know, but I do so love music.

Why are we (we being adolescents and, well, human) so strange when it comes to relationships? Please, allow me to give you a brief example of my idea world:
Boy: Hello. My name is Boy.
Girl: Hello, Boy. I'm Girl.
Boy: You know, girl. You're really pretty and I think I heard you make a reference to Heart of Darkness earlier, which means you must be smart.
Girl: If you understood my somewhat vague reference, then you must get me. I mean really get me.
Boy: I also find you smoking hot.
Girl: The sentiment is returned seven-fold, sir.
Boy: Most excellent. Would you like to make out, date, and eventually get married?
Girl: Why, yes, that I would. Do you like chocolate?
Boy: I love chocolate. We must elope at once, you are the one for me.
Girl: I will only honeymoon in Venice.
Boy: What other city is there?
Girl: I love you.
Boy: I love you.

OR, if 'twere a meeting of star-crossed lovers:
Boy: Hello, my name is Boy.
Girl: Hello, Boy. I'm Girl.
Boy: You know, Girl, you're really pretty, and I think I heard you make a reference to Mario Kart earlier. That must mean that you're tons of fun.
Girl: You heard correctly, sir.
Boy: I also find you smoking hot.
Girl: You are attractive too, but I'm not really feeling any chemistry.
Boy: Ah, unrequited love. Alrighty then. Thanks for not stringing me along for months and breaking my heart, thus leading me to a life of alcoholism and credit card debt.
Girl: You're welcome. May I point you in the direction of my friend? You are exactly her type.
Boy: Sure thing. Does she like chocolate?
Girl: She speaks practically of nothing else.
Boy: Goody! Take me to her at once! Anon!

See? No sentiments barred. No mind games. Not, of course, that I would actually want conversations to be like that, I just like the no-nonsense approach to making your feelings known at once. Here is a perhaps more concise version:

Ex.1-
Boy: I like you.
Girl: I like you.
Boy: Let's date.
Girl: Yes, let's.

Ex. 2-
Boy: I like you.
Girl: I don't really like you.
Boy: Cool.
Girl: Bye.

Why do we have to make it so HARD on ourselves? Not that I'm recommending ANY form of imitation of these conversations, ladies and gents, because they are quite capable of NEVER finding you a date, but I hope you understand what I'm driving at- straightforwardness is perhaps the most underrated character attribute of the century.

A Very Interesting Conversation...

... What does it all MEAN?!??!??????

(Occurred in a Chatroom)
Him: There is a mystery hidden in your eyes.
Me: oh really?
Him: yeah right down to the color. where does your spirit take you?
Me: what do you mean? religiously?
Him: First thing that comes to mind.
Me: Love. The presence of Love.
Him: Are you in pursuit or education?
Me: Meaning have I found the love of which I speak? Yes I have...
Him: You have?
Me: Yes.
Him: And where does that love guide you?
Me: To other wounded hearts.
Him: Hence why we are talking. you possess a blessing, do you not?
Me: I posses the Love of Jesus... which enables me to occiasionally comfort others. I do not possess the power to bless others...
Him: yes but your blessing of comfort comase at an expense, correct?
Me: Not in the slightest.
Him: no pain, no fear?
Me: Occaisionally. But I am eventually left with a feeling of peace in knowing that I've spared someone else from feeling those emotions That the healing grace of God has used me as a conduit to draw pained souls closer to Him.
Him: A strong one I see. Do you hear his voice or have visions?
Me: Not in the New Age sense, no. It's more like I think myself into realizations, or find passages in the bible that speak to me and aid my journey. Sometimes thoughts and words will come to me, and I didn't know I had such insight on a subject.
Him: yes, the knowledge piece is what i was refering to. soon you will also have the voice louder than you do now. ever thought you had a spirit walking close by?
Me: As in the Holy Spirit? Most definitely. Almost every day.
Him: no no, another spirit. see any shadows. ghosts if you will?
Me: No…
Him: hmm, maybe i have the wrong person. i'm sorry to bother you. :)
Me: Who did you think I was?
Him: I’m currently on a journey gathering like souls. (*NOT Gonna lie, I thought he was a demon at this point… LOL… so irrational)
Me: To what purpose?
Him: what thought just hit your brain?
Me: A cult, or something worse, to be honest.
Him: Oh no, heavens no. lol. I’m a Christian. we are speakers of god like yourself. and we don't get into a compound i'm christian lol
Me: And the ghost aspect?
Him: but there are folks who are able to see visions it's a guardian spirit or some call their guardian angel some are actually able to see it and some speak with it
Me: but it's not the Holy Spirit?
Him: no, the Holy Spirit is your soul for you are God but we can not understand God without a guardian the Holy Spirit protects our soul from our flesh. the guardian spirit gives us the words of our call
Me: I'm not sure how that correlates to Christianity, exactly.
Him: it is nothing different
Me: Then you are saying that the spirit is to protect our humanly bodies from the holy embodiment of the presence of God within our souls?
Him: no the Holy Spirit is what protects you from the sin of the flesh. God is not sin. God is the Holy Spirit
Me: I know, I was meaning what in the flesh needs protecting?
Him: sorry, did i misword it?
Me: I believe so... but maybe not.
Him: hehe it's ok, i have the wrong individual. my apologies. :)
Me: Well... then... Good luck? Although I'm not sure "collecting souls" has a very positive connotation, for future reference...
Him: hehe, it's not collecting. it's gathering, connecting, communicating, and learning we each have our own task and have information that assists the other in theirs
Me: and do you have a name?
Him: Joshua
Me: Sorry, I meant your group.
Him: no, it is not a group .there are no meetings . it's not like waco or the freemasonry
Me: I see.
Him: i'm told to talk to folks down my path
Me: and you thought I was one.
Him: we shed light on the others and we continue on. i did. you have a very strong look in your eye
Me: Well, sorry to... disappoint? lol
Him: one that holds pain during her trials. lolol, no no, no disappoint at all
Me: Hold pain during my trials?
Him: yes, the task of comfort is not easy on the heart.
Me: Not always, but neither is it a burdern.
Him: no no, truly a blessing
Me: Well thank you.
Him: and thank you for sharing your beauty with me. God Bless!
Me: May He bless you as well.

January in Review!

Happy February!! I (still) can't believe it's 2009. Two thousand and nine. tew-oh-oh-nyne. That's some crazy shit. January was a big month for me... let's review some of the things I learned/that happened to me, shall we?

1) Started a new semester of college... my 4th. Meaning in 4-ish months, I'm halfway done with college. That's also some crazy shit.
2) Spent more money than should be legally allowed for anyone.
3) Made 1300 bones.
4) Calculated that the gov'mint owes me back 1300 on my tax refund... suck it.
5) Missed my family and realized that my baby brother really is growing up... Quickly, it would seem.
6) Dropped my first college class. :)
7) Got really annoyed with the UT website... again.
8) Worked out a lot.
9) Heard a sermon about sex... it was AWESOME.
10) Bought (and used) wrinkle cream... sad day (s).
11) Started a cleanse... as in what those crazy-ass Hollywood people are doing. AKA I sold out to the man... and I don't really care :)
12) Took another acting workshop. And improved.
13) Saw some really really really good films.
14) Saw The House Bunny again. Twice.
15) Realized some really important stuff about life and people. (Apparently in February I'm going to be cryptic and vague...)
16) Fell further in love with Jason Mraz (SQUEEEEEEE)
17) Watched some pretty pimp American Idol episodes.
18) Played Alice Greenfingers... the best dumb game EVER!
19) Made new friends.
20) Saw old friends.

So yeah. And now, my friend suggested I start posting a monthly Random-Facts-About Me- section... so here's the first, February 1st... how apropo!

25 Random Things About ME

1) I am a chapstick ADDICT. I don't mean I enjoy the occasional application here and there, I mean if I don't have it, you WILL know, and I will start to freak out. I've asked random people in classes to use their chapstick before... usually people say no, but it's always worth a shot.

2) because of #1, I have some of the softest lips around ;)

3) I love love love anything to do with languages or accents. I love inventing new accents and trying to do the ones I can't. So far in my repetoire, I have an invented indian/mexican/islander accent, british, australian (it's getting good!!!!) and many american accents (brooklyn, mississippi, minnesota, etc.). and kind of irish. and kind of russian. and kind of french, although I would rather just speak french... lol. It is my dream to be able to slip effortlessly into any accent requested of me... I can get pretty close on a lot of them... I also love voices.. I accidently do them always and as a result, probably don't make friends as easily as i should be able to... lol

4) Books are my best friends in the whole world. I absolutely love reading with all my soul, and can't get enough!! And I love re-reading (which I thought everyone did) because you gain SO much more from the book with each successive reading. I wish I could dedicate my life to only reading books. I also plan on having an amazing library in my house... with a rolling ladder... on which I will sing... :)

5) Sushi is my favorite food and it IS foodgasmic.

6) I have dimples. big ones. and I don't mind if you tell me they're cute, huge, or ugly, but for the LOVE, don't EVER say, "You have dimples." No @%!@, Sherlock! I have had them my WHOLE life, and know they are there. Especially since people like you tell me I have them every day. Also, dimples are a dominant gene, therefore my children will have dimples (MUAHAHAHAHA).

7) I have a bunch of friends who are on the brink of fame. Which is weird.

8) one of the things I hate most in the world is seeing people waste their gifts and talents.

9) I'm extremely tired of all the world-wide drama of people trying to find girlfriends/boyfriends and get married. Ugh. Just chill out.

10) I've been having such frequent deja vue recently that I seriously think that some of the people in my life have been trained in the Native American art of Dream Walking and are secretly planting visions in my mind...

11) Speaking of dreams, I have THE weirdest dreams when I'm half awake/half asleep... you know, that period of time when you find the exact right sleeping position and are starting to drift off, but you still hear the clock ticking and the AC running...? Yeah... just ask Kendall. I bust out laughing when I'm asleep and then explain how there was a little boy in a sandbox... how is that hilarious???

12) I am NOT a morning person. If I'm not awake "enough" I will seriously HURT you. I think i need pajamas with a big disclaimer: "Do not talk to me if you can't see more than 45% of the whites of my eyes"

13) I usually hear absolutely everything while I'm asleep. (there are a lot of numbers about my sleep habitss...) Sometimes I wake up and remember a noise, but have no clue what it was, which, as you can probably imagine is sometimes creepy...

14) I love watching scary movies, but absolutely can not when i'm alone. It can be someone who is more afraid than I am, or someone who isn't afraid at all, but it can't be someone who makes fun of the movies... I LOVE being afraid. But only in movies. I would kinda rather die than be afraid in real life. And I'm completely serious.

15) #14 is probably why I should never live alone.

16) The scariest story I heard as a kid, and that still haunts me today, is this: A young woman lived by herself in a cabin. She would often become afraid by the sounds of the wilderness at night, but she had a loving and protective dog. The dog would sleep beside her bed, and when the woman was afraid, she would stick her hand over the edge of the bed, and the dog would lick it to comfort her. One night, she heard a lot of strange noises, and was frightened, but the dog licked her hand and she fell back asleep. In the morning she awoke to find her dog hanging, dead, from the ceiling and a note written in his blood on the dresser mirror: "Humans can lick too".

17) I'm probably going to have nightmares tonight because of thinking about #16. Also (seriously) why I can never have a part of me hanging over a bed. I'm honestly afraid someone will lick it... which i'm pretty sure makes me crazy.

18) I love cooking and baking and I would honestly love to have people over for dinner everyday. But I'm poor.

19) I truly truly love people and would like to bask in the glow of friendship forever... Also I love listening to people, lifting them up, and helping them solve their problems. No lie.

20) I don't like beer. Honestly, beer tastes to me the way urine smells. Like how lemon jolly ranchers taste the way pinesol smells. I'm not going to drink pinesol, and I'm not going to drink beer. kthanksbye.

21) Music is basically the effervescent, ethereal material (ha) that my soul is made of. I can easily cry due to the beauty of a melody or harmony. That being said, I hate a lot of modern-day music. I also love cheesy songs... It's hard to explain my criteria. But I dislike 94% of country, because the twang and predictable melodies make it hard to hear the soul of the songs. For some reason, male country singers annoy me more than female country singers... maybe because I want my men to sound like Frank Sinatra, Josh Groban, and Michael Buble, and not say "ya'll"...

22) Chips and Salsa (and/or queso) is the way to my heart.

23) I am probably the most indefatigably, excruciatingly optimistic person... ever. :D

24) I really have no problem telling people I love them. And I always mean it. With all my heart. Talk to me if you ever want to hear my theories on love... lol. (I'm serious... I have theories on love...)

25) I would rather do a thousand things than sleep, but heaven help us all if I don't get enough for more than three days in a row... ... ...

Maybe 'Tis a Bit Late, but...

Happy New Year!

As I wave a fond farewell to 2008, and slowly turn on one foot (favoring the ankle that's still slightly swollen, although it's been 5 years since I've sprained it) to greet 2009 and all the uncertainty and sheer exhilaration it brings, I hear the distant cries of things and people not ready to move on.

"What about meeeeeee, Kaitlin?" they whine.

I hate to break it to you, but... Sorry. I won't be investing any more time and emotion into energy vampires in 2009. (Oh, Vampires... R.I.P. Moonlight. I will forever mourn Mick St. John. And R.I.P. Blood Ties. Henry Fitzroy was beautiful, too.) I'm not saying that I will not lend a helping hand or council you or be your friend or confidant. Not at all. Those are my roles, my jobs, my joys, and my spiritual fulfillment. If you only ever ask me whether you should buy apple juice or orange juice, I will help you.

But there are things, and people, and causes, and beliefs, and even certain coffee flavors (Pumpkin Spice??? More like Stale Vaguely Spicey Coffee Remnants. Mmmmm.) that don't appreciate my time or my efforts. And thusly, I bid you a fond farewell!

I'm moving on, baby! It's time for a fresh, clean start.

I'm already pumped for '09. Better life, better friends, better relationship with God... It's the year of improvement, of self-actualization, of self-appreciation, but also of selflessness. I am extremely, utterly, possibly inappropriately excited.

Aren't you?