Sticky things

Stuck.

Life is dumb. It can stick you stuck and you don't know how it happens.


I am a free woman in a free world (a rather expensive free world) with some creative idears ( I resent the little red dots that underline my unique spellings,) and you would think I would rule the world with that kind of resume'. But nay. I don't know what to do.... ever. I want to be huge and great, but I get overwhelmed by the big things in life. Then, I think... simplicity is what matters. Simple happiness is true. I'm happy when I'm doing crossword puzzles with my lovely fiance and the like. Then, I think AM I WASTING MY TALENTS??


The point: I may mature and grow and stretch and stuff and junk, but in the end, the answers are never clear. I guess the only way to get unstuck is to stop worrying about the meanings and the "should do's" and just do what you want. Wait... shoot (notice I'm not cussing. You're welcome, Madelyn. That's my daughter. SO WEIRD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I hope when she reads this one day that she doesn't resent that I think being her mom is weird. Oh yes, I'm making her read this one day. It's filled with subliminal messages to mold her into exactly what I think she should be... aka a Coldplay fan that thinks she's got street cred) (ok now back to the original sentence)... that's the name of my blog.


I swear the more I blog, the less I know. I should just stick with the title.


Do what you want. Make third world countries do the rest.

-Girl

Squeezing humans

"oh ha. hahahahahaha. Good one. GOOD ONE!"
                                                  -Past Me when Current Me informed her that right after she graduated college, she would get pregnant, get married, and decide she wants to live in or around the TN area.


I am a hoot. Just a durn hoot.

Let this be a lesson to you, youngsters (um. I'm gunna have a baby so I have a right to be condescending to everyone)... life doesn't read your blogs. It doesn't give one thought to what your plans are. Life throws babies at you and laughs.

I always thought throwing babies was as funny as the next guy, but when the baby lands in your uterus and makes you vomit and gives you stretch marks, you aren't laughing! You're vomiting! and rubbing awkward smelling creams all over your body!

That's what life post-graduation is about: awkward smelling creams.

What is your awkward smelling cream? Metaphorically speaking...

Is this what this blog is going to be about for the rest of my life? Being pregnant and then being a mom? I look back at the beginning, and I was all about animal rights, environmentalism, saying "up yours!" to the man, being an artsy hippie and thinking that was something unique and special. Now, I'm still writing about this journey of life (cliche), but priorities have changed... just like all the old folks in my life told me they would. All of a sudden, providing for my family (MY family. AHH) is number one. Ok. number 2... after food. Not like food as in food I need to survive off of. I mean chocolate cake, bacon, and potato chips with french onion dip. Those are the important things right now.

Something in me hasn't changed, though. That is the need to be true. To myself. Not to any job, church, politics, or elder. And that is what I want to teach my child. To not lose your own beliefs because they may not be the popular ones to hold. To never blindly follow any institution. To only blindly follow me and act as my little clone so that I may use him/her as my minion to help me start my own religion, gain fame and riches and eventually make Tom Cruise my spokesperson.

I look forward to this next chapter of my blog. It should be as enlightened, brilliant, charming, and irresistible as the previous chapters, but it will have the depth and wisdom of a sexy, confident, yet humble, woman that has squeezed another human out of her vageen.

"Oh, you've wrestled a crocodile? Well, I squeezed another human out of my vagina."

"OH! YOU invented the snuggie!? Well, I squeezed another human out of my vagina!"

"OH! You're Coldplay?... I love you! It's amazing to meet you! I squeezed another human out of my vagina... but you probably didn't want to know that. Awkward. Can I lick your face? K. Yeah. I'll walk myself out."

-Me having hypothetical conversations.


Hypothetically, I'm funny. Just like metaphorically, I'm about to rub some awkward smelling cream on my boobs and belly.

Wait. No. I'm really about to do that.



-Katie

Eating popsicles in the shower gets you pregnant

Sometimes I just wanna eat things in the shower. Today I ate a popsicle. It was very sensual. 

Really I can't help being sensual. Like earlier I ate a cheerio off the floor. 

You know what happens to sensual people? They get pregnant. Or maybe pregnant people just constantly eat a lot (aka popsicles and cheerios) and they convince themselves its sensual.

Either way... I got a baby in my gut. It's pushing on my bladder and making my bellybutton shallower, but I can forgive these things because it gives me an excuse to eat a lot and makes me 97% more adorable. 

I was raised Catholic and pretty conservative and now look at me. I'm a crazy heathen liberal socialist weirdo. So, my first decision as a parent (WEIRD!) is to raise my kid to be a Republican stripper so he/she will end up being the opposite of that. 

Actually I really don't care what my baby grows up to be as long as he/she doesn't murder and as long as he/she is tan. And doesn't have an annoying laugh.

Anyone can have a baby these days. 

Buy me diapers. 

I need big ones, though, because I'm getting fatter every day.

Yea me. Not the baby. It's always about the baby! GAH

Um.... it's covered in weird hairy goo that it eats and poops out. 

Bye.

-The emotionally stable mom-to-be

 

If seagulls could blog, they wouldn't because they're too busy being awesome.

One of my favorite things: Seeing seagulls in places seagulls shouldn't be.

Admit it, when you see seagulls at a mall in TN or the like, you perk up a bit. It makes anything seem possible.

A few days ago I saw about 50 seagulls surrounding a couple in the middle of a park. Now, for me, this was pretty inspiring. All the birds were standing there, very evenly spaced out, and very focused on the couple. Their ability to create such an aesthetically pleasing pattern and their immense focus made me believe in purpose in this life. If I look at it from the couples perspective, though, I have to say that is a pretty terrifying moment. You realize you are surrounded by 50 deceptively large birds that obviously have some plan in action to have that much focus and to be that far from the sea. That couple didn't even have food, so it was clear the birds were there for them. I wonder what happened to the couple. They're probably dead.

Some people accuse me of giving animals more credit than I should. The fact that I assume that seagulls have the intelligence and persistence to create and enact plans against humanity may seem ridiculous to some, but to me this is very logical. Tell me when you look into a horse's eyes you don't automatically get the feeling they are smarter than you and are doing you a favor by not stomping your weak little human face into the ground. You can't tell me that! Because you know deep down that you feel that way!

Enough about this.

Here are my other recent observations:

• If you buy a white couch, you will increase your spaghetti consumption, and you will increase the amount of meals you eat on your couch.
• The more Real Housewives of (Any City) you watch on Bravo, the more you will narrate to the imaginary camera in your mirror about the drama in your life.
• Every time you shop at Target, you realize you are either A)wearing a red shirt and khaki pants (aka the Target uniform) or B) wearing everything you have ever bought at Target at that moment.
• This list reaffirms that I have become a housewife.

Life is hard, but at least horses have let us all live another day. Let us be thankful for that this Thanksgiving. 

-Katie

The Real Housewife of Tacoma

I want to blog. Hence...the blog.

Apparently this blog will be the demise of my future. It is a fact that 98.6 % of people with blogs become homeless and end up selling their bodies.

People keep telling me, "You really need to make your blog private or delete it because employers will read it and find you appallingly inappropriate."

I mean.... I think my blog shows that I have a sense of humor, a good handle on irony, am a brilliant writer and confident, commit to projects once I start them, and that I can write the word "blog" backwards on my nose with eyeliner. Forbes and Time magazine both say that writing backwards with atypical writing utensils is the number one quality employers look for when hiring. I obviously have a really good grasp on what employers want, and so I resent people hatin' all up on this blog and trying to tell me what to do.

I think such people should read my blog and see that the title of the blog in question is called "I do what I want."

There is no formula for success in this life. You can eat Wheaties, jog every morning, get a business degree, volunteer on your weekends, study abroad, read the paper every day, work 9-5, act polite towards everyone, stay politically correct, dress fashionably but not scandalously, date someone with the same values for 3 years, get engaged and stay engaged for an appropriate span of time, get married in the same church both your parents got married in, move in together after the wedding, save money for 2 years then have a baby, always keep the house presentable, throw delightful dinner parties with all the right people in attendance, eat healthy, save for retirement, blah blah blah, etc....you can do all these things and still find yourself incomplete. Lacking. Lost.

Maybe not...if that's what you really want. I don't want to hate all up on (my new phrase apparently) people who do these things. It is a lovely life if it is what you want. I just don't appreciate the pressure to live up to this.

The more I do what I want, and the less I let people scare me into following what they want, the more complete I feel. I want to live life and always be true. I want my life to be honest. Like this blog. So, I will not delete my blog because that would go against what I stand for. At least for now. If that changes, then I will pretend I never said this and probably lose contact with anyone who will remember that I once believed these things.

I do what I want.

Change is good, except at Olive Garden.

This is what pissed me off today.

I am sitting at Olive Garden in a chair large enough for my entire high-school graduating class, and not only that, but the chair rolls. This restaurant is clearly built for some heavy-duty eatin', and at this point in my life so am I (hmm...what does she mean by that ((she=me)). So the server comes to the table, and I order salad and bread before she can tell me her name. It's obvious I'm not here for chit-chat. I'm friggin hungry. She brings the salad and bread, and asks me if I want cheese on my salad. Um. Yes, biatch. I do. I am emmaciated here. I am dying of starvation. I want some cheese. This is where I lose my mind: She didn't give me the option to tell her when to stop. She sprinkled a little bit of the good stuff (cheese) on the salad and flippantly skipped away to do some more teasin' with the cheesin'. I almost burst into tears and could not stop imagining me using the fancy black Olive Garden straw to tracheotomy (I realize this is not a verb) her servery server neck and then force feed her through her new neck-hole some cheese and NOT ask her when she'd had enough cheese.

The logistics of that image are very unlikely, but the sentiment is very clear.  I want cheese, and I want it to come with options.


Olive Garden used to be a classy place where poor college kids could go to feel like they weren't so poor because they were surrounded by servers in white button-downs. It was a place of equality where all men and all women servers wore ties- equally tacky and cheap looking ties. Olive Garden was a place of cheese for all. You ordered 28 cheese lasagna wrapped in a cheese blanket and covered with an elaborate cheese canopy and you still got asked if you wanted cheese on top and how much. What are you now Olive Garden?? The blinders have been removed and now I see it was all a facade. Your garden is barren and your olives are not as salty as I had once believed.....


Everything is changing. I just never thought it would be this hard.



I do love their salad though.


And yes. This is a very detailed intelligent metaphor for my life. Just trust me.

Apologies to Maine Strippers are in Order/ A job resume

Jobs!

Am I right???

This is what's beautiful to me: 

I looked at the stats of my blog and saw where people were finding it. Google, twitter, facebook, etc. all made the list. One search in particular, though, made me really proud of myself. We all do things in the world. Some do bigger things than others. And when I say brilliant statements such as that, it's no wonder that the latter describes me. Apparently, in the past, someone was searching on Bing or Google or something for "gia stripper maine" and they got directed to my blog. And I know they weren't disappointed. Yeah, they were looking for  a stripper in Maine and I am close but not exactly that.... so I can see why Mr. or Mrs. Needs A Stripper from Maine may be slightly dismayed by that discovery. But (second sentence I have started with a conjunction. this girl takes risks. we should hire her ((voice of prospective employer that is checking my blog and ignoring all the inappropriate aspects and seeing the grammatical risks and adventurous word explorations that I make), in a metaphorical sense, Mr. or Mrs. Needs A Stripper from Maine got to see me strip with metaphorical teasing and metaphorical pasties with metaphorical tassels spinnin'. Have you seen my metaphorical pasties?? They are fantastic. Anyway, my point is, when someone is looking for a stripper, Bing and Google know that what they really need is to read my blog. Yeah... I am probably taking business away from all the Gias in Maine, but I'm probably just motivating them to go back to school to become as successful as I am (I measure success by the amount of ridiculous statements one makes about him or herself.)

And that is why you should hire me, (enter Employer name here). Because I start sentences with "and" "but" and "because" and I take business away from strippers.

Gia (First Maine, next the World)

Don't look at me like that

Oh what!????!

I'm working on my stand-up material! Isn't that enough?? OH now you want me to go try it out somewhere! Who died and made you my friggin' life coach!??????! If it was me, I was drunk and have no recollection of it so move on!


PS. I'm taking your advice and working on my cursing. Notice above I said "friggin."

I'm also working on my drinking. For a couple of reasons.

And I'm working on my anger issues.


You really would be a superb life coach.


Still... Back off. Thanks.





Sorry.

I wear scarves, but people still aren't getting how important I am....

I want to have my own business. Like tomorrow.

I just really need to tell more people what to do. Right now, I'm only telling my cat and my boyfriend what to do and my cat has no respect for me and my boyfriend doesn't count because that's just what boyfriends do... what their girlfriends tell them to do. (He is going to get pissed when he reads this. Of this I am aware and for this I am prepared).

This very loud, very pissed homeless woman carrying a very large bag was yelling quite loudly out behind my apartment building today. I didn't want to seem nosy, so I cracked the window to hear better, and I closed the blind so she couldn't tell what I was doing. She was calling someone a ******fucker and demanding that he or she change his or her attitude. I peeked through the blinds and realized that she was talking to no one. At least no one in the visual spectrum. At that moment I realized I am very close to becoming that woman. If I don't have someone to boss around and quick, I'm going to have to resort to publicly humiliating non-existent people.

Today I needed Sour Cream and Onion potato chips more than I needed oxygen. So, I walked to the grocery story to get them. And I got them.

That demonstrates my ability to take a task and complete it successfully... just in case anyone who may be interested in hiring me is reading this...

Why did I capitalize "Sour Cream and Onion" but not "potato" or "chips"?

I ask the tough questions.

It annoys me when strawberry flavored things are pink. Strawberries aren't pink.

There are so many problems in this world. If I was boss, there wouldn't be any problems.


K. So, I'm going to go yell at my cat. Talk to you later.



-Katie the Boss Lady

Back and gone all at once.

One day you're sitting in class gettin pissed at 143 year old professors teaching you about their favorite wool jacket rather than teaching you anything relevant to the world, and the next day you are actually in the real world and you realize that 4 day lecture on the quality of wool and its origins was probably the most relevant thing you learned in college.

I am sitting in my new downtown apartment right now in Washington (State.... not D.C. I'm not a poser ((I'm creating a rivalry between Washington State and D.C. I made t-shirts)). I just cooked my fella and I dinner. He went to bed because he has work early in the morning so I am awake in our living room that only has a floor lamp and an antique dining room table in it, and I'm listening to jazz on NPR. So much has changed, and yet so little. I'm still a tool and a poser (NOT THE D.C. KIND! gross! We covered that!)

I live across the country, and really everything is the same. Oh except for I live with my boyfriend; I have no friends or family within 2000 miles of me, and a few other things may have changed. More on that later (CLIFFHANGER!!!!!!) I mean... I guess pretty much everything is different. I'm basically a Stepford Housewife now. I pack my boy's breakfast and lunch every day.


Pause for you to judge me and to stop reading in response to that judgement



Pause for you to regain your senses and come back to my blog to finish reading


Welcome back.


These sugary, slimy housewifey things I do, though, make me happy. I mean... I'm taking care of him. He goes to work all day, and no one in Washington state is stupid or desperate enough yet to have hired me (Should have moved to D.C.), so I look for jobs all day and clean and write and watch The Office... so why shouldn't I make his food? It feels good to help people.

Who am I?




Even with all these changes, though, I am still the same sassy latina white girl who knows nothing except for everything. I still put lots of unnecessary spaces in my blog

(I know that's

comforting for you). I still sit and over-think everything and stress an ungodly amount, all the while preaching to others not to stress and live the Taoist go-with-the-flow way. I still feel like me. I have not changed. Everything around me has, but I feel the same, except my boobs are bigger.

So let me throw this atcha. The housewife that raised you and the 143 year old professor that teaches you and the anarchisty pissant (I'm not gunna lie.. I don't know what a pissant is) that sits behind you in class and scratches things into his desk and mutters pessimistic quotes about the American dream and that homeless woman that makes up poetry for money on the side of the street and the soldier that fights in Afghanistan and the hippie that smells like rotten plant life and looks a little rotten himself and the pale blogger chick that thinks she knows something no one else knows may appear a certain way on the outside, but who they are is something they only understand. Just like I look like a housewife right now but do not fit that stereotype because I am also an artist and a hippie and a writer and douchebag. It does not matter what you do or where you live (as long as it's not D.C.). It only matters if you know yourself and love what you know. Oh and it also doesn't hurt to have someone else that knows you pretty darn well too.

So fellow recent graduates and seniors on their journey towards graduation... don't put all this pressure on yourself to do something big or crazy or awesome or amazing as soon as you graduate to prove to your professors and parents and friends and asshole boss that you learned something and are something great and that you won't be the typical college graduate who has to move back in with the parents and becomes a server or works at a coffee shop. I know I felt this pressure but have realized that those people that I was pressuring myself to impress have their own lives to worry about and don't give a shit what you do. If they actually care about you, they just want you to be happy.

Oh and it's true. A wool jacket is very handy, especially in Washington.

I am a little disappointed in this blog post, but it is my first one in a while so I'm going to give myself a break. You should too.... give me a break that is. Not yourself one. You have no excuse for what you did.



I miss you all.

I think.



I don't know what I feel. That's about the only thing I don't know.




-Katie-the-Downtown-Washington-but-still-the-Same-Girl-From-UT Lady

This is a picture from my bedroom window.




(I still enjoy lying)

How I feel

I hate when people are funnier than me. I find it sketchy and rude.

<--- --->

Life is about to change.

It feels good.

Or bad.


Nope. I choose for it to feel good.

Choose happiness

Mexicans and Old People

Nothing better than Mexican food. We white people know how to eat.

I am effing parched right now and my water bottle is just out of arms reach. I understand Africa right now.

I feel like building something right now. It's odd because I rarely feel like "doing" anything and building is especially productive sounding. It must be from the Mexican food. I'm going to watch TV and hope this feeling of productivity passes. It's not healthy.

Respect your elders. Unless they're idiots. Then just ignore them and wait for them to die.

Baby violence.

Big things are happening people. Big things.

I love big things. Big ol' juicy things (allow your mind to take you where it may).

I am having some big ol' panic attacks about all this every once in a while, but I'd be more worried if I didn't. I feel like if I'm not panicking something heinous and visualizing the horrible demise of my happiness at the next turn, then I'm not really living. It's healthy.

Yesterday I punched imaginary things. Lots of them. I accidently punched a baby, but babies are resilient. That's what I'm learning at work. I can let babies jump off counters and eat bleach and they'll probably be fine. (If my boss ever sees this or any future employer of the childcare variety or any law enforcement agency or anyone with a conscience, I'll probably never work or live in society again. That's probably going to happen and my happiness with meet its demise.)

Of course I'm kidding about the baby neglect and violence.

Oh. kid just walked into work. I'll be back.

Bam

"We must make an idol of our fear, and call it God."

The Seventh Seal (1956)

A step in the....something... direction

So it's official. I'm moving to Washington. Big girl time. No friends (except for the boyfriend, of course). No family. No job. No plan. No idea what the dammit I'm doing.

Yeah. I'm terrified. But this is what I've preached about. Not planning and just letting life take me where I am supposed to be. I immediately regret trying to practice what I preach, but I have to since I have so many people looking up to me.

I'll probably be miserable for at least 3 months and rethink everything I have come to believe on life and then I'll start going to church and caring about taxes and hating liberals and then get a "real" job and settle down and live in WA for 30 years and then after all that i'll realize that my youthful naivity was actually accurate the whole time and then my beliefs will come full circle during my midlife crisis and travel to south america to rediscover myself and catch some weird parasite from eating a toe or some other delicacy and die.

Optimism.

I better at least end up in a Twilight movie. I'd make a badass vampire.


So look out for that.

I call you a "fucker" at the end of this post. Just so you know.

Blogs make people extremely self absorbed.

I sit and write about me and my problems and my funny observations on life, and all the while animals are suffering and miley cyrus is existing. I am in what actors call the "vertile void," though. Basically what that means is your life implodes on itself and you emotionally burst into pieces and nothing means everything and everything means nothing and you hate yourself but oddly feel like you are a better person than you've ever been and yet you do nothing for anyone because youd rather be sitting in your own muck of humanity and feel what it all means. You know... that kind of thing.

I hate myself so much right now. I feel like I keep talking about myself (LIKE RIGHT NOW!) but then I think, "No. Katlyn. This is your blog and you need to do what you need to do" and then I think, "You are a selfish whoreface and you need to stop talking for at least 3 days." I have no idea what to do with myself right now. I know less about life at this moment than I ever have before but I feel so alive at the same time. I don't want to be that girl that gets stuck in her own psychology and analyzes everything, but I also don't want to be that girl that lives a superficial life because she never really searches within herself to know what she really believes and really wants.

So here is what I am going to do: I'm going to really focus on my animal rights stuff for the next 3 days (well not just for 3 days but I'm gunna be hardcore about it for 3 days). I'm going to research and write letters and make any necessary life changes and basically rediscover what is important to me in order to find out if I still feel the same as I once did. I'm hoping putting some focus on something other than me trying to be funny and enlightening (we all get it. I'm both of these things. ((I just did a diva hair flip so you know) will clear some stuff up.

So before I go I gotta purge myself of my bullshit so I can go into this thing with an open spirit (too much).

-I don't think Dave Matthews is all that fuckin awesome
-I eat meat (duh) but I don't feel much remorse for it anymore because it helps with my little health issue thingies.
-I do feel remorse and I just lied to you. I just don't know how to balance me being physically healthy with being ethically healthy.
-I am listening to Pandora right now and Rob Pattinson is singing a song.....................I feel like Twilight might be to blame for all my craziness.
-I am terrified of making a mistake in my life right now while I'm young and free. I don't want to waste this precious time.
-I love playing with blocks while I'm at work. Somehow that does not feel like a waste of time.


Ok. I'm done talking about myself for at least 3 days. GOSH! 3 DAYS! THATS SO LONG!

It's really not. I'm just a ridiculous person.


Stop buying products tested on animals, fuckers.

How I feel this morning

How do people relationship (thats a verb)? I don't know how to be a soldier's girlfriend. I've been working on that for about 5 months now, but he just got back and fuck. its different again! this is the Man getting back at me for my hippie ways!

The Man.. he's a clever son of a bitch. You gotta respect that.

life is stupid and annoying and wonderful. i don't make no sense. you don't make no sense. sense is not made.

Something to look forward to

My cat and I got into a fight. This was level 10, code red, hide your babies, Michael Vic would be proud kinda fighting. I was an advocate of animal cruelty in that moment. She experienced a severe mood swing and attacked my arm like it was filled with catnip or something and I attacked back like she was filled with icecream or, oddly enough, catnip. We haven't spoken since, but I know she'll weaken and talk first. I'm an expert arguer. I always win. Don't believe me? Start somethin!! START SOMETHIN! 

This is what I know (Oh great. Here she goes again): I enjoy arguing. Not name-calling, bitch slapping, club arguing (that's more Gia's style), but the one-on-one battle of words and wits. Most of the time, I'm not even that upset but I just want to argue. Is that healthy? No. You feel bad for my boyfriend? Well, you should. For many reasons. But I can't help it. The Good Lord hath made me this way for a reason. Not like he made the gays. He made them gay so that they would have to suffer their whole lives and go against who they naturally are just to get into heaven. Me, he made this way to enjoy destroying the self-esteem and others' wills to live. I've always been God's favorite, though, so I'm not surprised that he lets me do anything I want.

Things people say when they're delusional: "I've always been God's favorite."

Things that happen to people who say "I've always been God's favorite:" They live a lonely life filled with meaningless relationships with partners who never meet up to their absurd standards, alcoholism, lots of cats, blogging as if people care about their opinion, dying alone in an apartment filled with cat feces and weird books about Civil War heroes (not sure why....), and eventually Hell.

Anyway, as I was saying, I'm God's favorite, which is pretty impressive considering the courageous, dauntless, and audacious acts of Edward F. Arthur, John Davis, John F. Weston, and many others.



-The Favorite

I feel this song is about life.

Happy Birthday Frida Kahlo



That's all I got right now! My brain is producing no other information except for this and the last 2 sentences.

Robin Williams

Well. I did it again. I changed my friggin mind. I change my mind on the regular if you haven't noticed. I am impossible to make plans with. I can't commit to anything. I'm a very unstable human being. People probably shouldn't know me.

I need to figure this out. I find it so fascinating that I know all about everyone and everything else in the world, yet I do not know the motivations for my own actions 70% of the time (30% of the time, it's icecream. Scientists figured that percentage out. It's science). Is everyone like this? Or do most people have control over their own bodies and minds?

If I could choose anyone to control my mind/body combo it would be Robin Williams. WHOA! I just realized I have not talked about Robin Williams enough in this blog. Shameful! Why Robin Williams? Well, he's fuckin hilarious for 1 and he'd make me fuckin hilarious by association. He's amazing at improvising ridiculous yet splendid characters, and I could be his puppet to put his characters on display. Also, I'd probably get to do a lot of crack, and I ain't gunna lie... I'd do crack if it wasn't of my own free will. I would definitely choose to do crack if I couldn't choose, naw mean? Me on crack would be terrifying. Just imagine: Robin Williams on crack controlling me while on crack. That's the stuff of glory.

I feel like the reason I change my mind so often is that I don't do crack enough (enough? I do crack some though? DO I?) Like (beginning a sentence with "like" is disgusting), if I did more crack I would be on crack and then all decisions would be erased from my life because I'd only want one thing: more crack. Crackheads have it so easy. Me? I want everything, but I really don't except when I do, but that's only when I really don't but I just think I do even though I know I should... Crackheads don't deal with that. Their brain says "Crack." And their body says, "Crack." And crack says, "Crack." Profound.

I really don't want to do crack.


Yes I do.

Can't a brotha just be more important than World of Warcraft?

I keep finding out I have food allergies. What is it now? Fuckin' blueberries! BLUEBERRIES! Whoever heard of blueberries allergifying someone? WAIT. This is some straight-up Willy Wonka business. The universe must be teaching me a lesson. That chick in the movie talked too much and was very loud and sassy. That has nothing to do with me though. The universe doesn't know what it's doing. Never has. Umm... can you say mosquitos? And their purpose is what? Exactly.

So, my mouth tastes a little like metal and burns like hell. See.. it is like the universe is telling me to shut up and stop flappin my mouth so much. So ABSURD! Universe! You got the wrong girl!

As of today, my need to save the world is starting to resurface. I took a long break from giving a shit about anyone and anything other than myself. Then, my bf went to Afghanistan. While it first it made me more selfish and self absorbed and nonsense, now it reminds me that there are people out there that don't sit around and blog and talk smack about people all day. There are people who put their lives in danger. So, what I do in response to this renewed vigor and passion? I sit around and blog about it. Hmmmm.........

I want to save animals in animal testing labs. I want to save people from the poisons in our foods. I want the soldiers to come home and stop losing lives for other people's greed. I want my mouth to stop making everything taste like pennies.

I think the last one is most important to me.


I guess I really haven't changed. It's all about me. That's how humans are. We each want to survive and bone to perpetuate our kind. Nothin wrong with a little survival and a little boning.... or is there?


I don't know the meaning of life. I just know that when it comes down to it, and I'm looking death in the eye (It will be by shark attack. MAN ISN'T IT GOING TO BE FREAKY WHEN IT IS!!!!?? Everyone is going to think I was a prophet and then this blog with be the next Bible ((but much less heavy), I want to have created something. Whether it be a child or a play or freakin sweet biweekly magazine that features old people changing the world just to prove that being old doesn't mean you can't be badass, it doesn't matter. I just want to know that I mattered. In a world where so much bullshit matters: botox and boob size and six-packs and tan butt-cheeks and nice cars and World of Warcraft and oil, I better contribute something! The standards aren't very high. DAMN

I love you.


Maybe I don't. Shit I dont know. Just know that I entertain the idea of loving you.

-Katie

Pole dancing is the answer

I know you know this already, and I know I know this already, but I'm a fan of unnecessary repetition of things so here it goes: I. am. crazy. It's legit. I'm gettin the papers tomorrow. Today, though, I decided to embrace the crazy.

My crazy makes me special. It makes me interesting. It makes me a little scary to most people. I like it. I really do. See... what I'm thinking is that more people should embrace their crazy. We all have it within us. Our society makes sure of that. It forces us to suppress and repress and oppress and caress things when we really shouldn't (I've caressed so many things for society. I blame MTV and Banana Republic). Those various "esses" create these little crazy versions of ourselves that sit inside us and wait oh-so-patiently for just the wrong time to make themselves known. But you know what? (what?) Those little crazy cuties are usually more real than the face we show the world. My crazy's name is Gia. She's from Jersey. She's a stripper and a fiction writer. She drinks too much, works out twice a day but only to meet the studs at the gym, and her favorite hobby is punchin bitches in the club. I love Gia. She's sassy and confident and funny and fuckin crazy.

So as of today, I am giving Gia the attention she deserves.

My first Gia decision is to start drinking more. I'm buying wine after work and I'm getting shit-faced at my house. By myself. WHOA YOUR JUDGEMENT IS NOT NEEDED. Actually, I probably won't get hammered. But, I will drink until Gia feel comfortable enough to potentialy punch a bitch in the club- metaphorically speaking, that is.


Side note: A fear of mine: I am worried that people are disappointed in me for not moving to Chicago or NY or LA immediately to pursue the acting thing. See... I try to pretend that I don't care what people think, but I DO! I know I'm going to have to get over that because it's my life and, as we all know, I do what I want.

The best way I can think of to get over that fear is to let Gia outta her stripper cage and flash her vag in the face of fear (too much).

WWGD?


Who's your crazy? Are you properly acquainted? Get on that.



-Gia

My question of the day to me about me for myself and me

Why do I love to be unhappy?

It's like I choose it.

I want what I can't have and I hate what I want as soon as I get it.


STOP. Life change is happenin today.

I feel like everyday I decide to change my life.

No, but really. I'm choosing happiness. You don't like it, you can choose to suck my nuts.



Love to you and your kind


-KKtheKoolKid

The acoustic version of Hey Ya makes me sleepy... and the naps keep comin.. damn

If naps made you successful, I'd be really successful.

I wore the same thing today that I wore yesterday. I tried to be sneaky about it. I made sure I wouldn't be seeing anyone that saw me yesterday. Then, I blogged about it.

I cried several times today for various reasons. Sometimes I think I get spontaneously and immaculately pregnant, and then Jesus realizes I'm not what he's looking for. That's ok. He's not always what I'm looking for either. I crave weird foods and eat an awkward amount of these weird foods and then I cry/laugh. This situation may not actually be that magical. It's more like my man is in Afghanistan, I'm bored and lonely living at home with my parents, I work with emotionally taxing children all day, I forget to pack a lunch so I'm starving by the time I get off work so I eat anything and everything that I see, and I realize that my life is about to drastically change. And you know what? It's all my fault. I decided to be a fuckin hero and graduate. I decided to move across the damn nation. I decided to work in the theatre. I chose this life.

Well played, free will. Well played.

Actually, I really think I am going to be oddly satisfied and happy with life as soon as I can stop self-handicapping by taking debilitating naps. I told myself, "Ok, me, one 30 minute nap today and that's it! Then you are going to write the play that will change the world and make everyone finally see the world the right way.. the way you do!" So, then I got in bed and heard my alarm go off 30 minutes later and I then say, "Fuck you, former self." Never ever has anyone disrespected my former self like that! It's disgusting! But, here I am. Drunk from over-sleeping and nothing to show for it except a cowlick and a big ass.

If only guys were into cowlicks like they are big asses.... my life would be golden.

My advice for the day: Don't lie to yourself. Say what you mean. Mean what you say. And act on it. The only person's opinion that matters is your own (and mine) in this life.

And for Christ's sake, listen to Coldplay. I'm sick of dropping oh so subtle hints that I think they are amazing. Just do it.

Thank you.

I love you all. (especially Matt... sorry.. I don't like to play favorites... but I actually really do like to)

I miss you all. (especially Matt...again...)


-Yo Mama

Les Claypool enhances my angst

What a day. What a day.

I can tell I'm old because I keep using awkward cliche expressions like the above.

Today was borderline bad.

This is what I don't like: I don't like depending on someone else in order to be happy. That's why I became so awesome in the first place...so I wouldn't have to do that. Apparently I'm human (and not the magic superhero kind, like Jesus) and I do need others and others' opinions do matter to me or some shit. (I try so hard not to cuss. I think I really am human...and can....fail...?)

So, should I depend on someone or not? Do I close myself off and be relatively lonely but find a sense of strength and contentment (I really don't believe that's a word. it sounds ridiculous) or do I allow a few certain people whom I put my trust and love into to disappoint me every once and a while and make me feel like a flat coke that you leave in your car for 3 months in the summer and everytime you are thirsty you see that damn flat coke and it makes you cringe and yearn all at once? I think my metaphors literally mean nothing. LITERALLY. BUH. Anyway. The sappy romantic side of me says, "Bitch, let people in and stop being such a snobbish cunt" (My sappy romantic side has some anger issues. See what I'm workin with?) The more cold-hearted, independent side says, "Bitch, get over it. Nobody can touch you or that fine ass."

In the end, all you got is you. And anyone, I MEAN ANYONE (even Jesus...yes JESUS) can disappoint you (I think I'm pissed at Jesus today because I need someone to take my anger out on and he's not here or not anywhere near here...in the actual physical real sense....and even if he was here, I feel like his overall muscle mass would be underwhelming and less than intimidating so talking shit really poses not threat for me). So, you gotta deal with that disappointment. Decide if the person is truly worth it. If the good outweighs the bad. And then you do what you do when you do what you do. But never sacrifice yourself for someone else because everyone is a selfish douchbag. Except me. (None of those sentences were grammatically correct. IM AWARE SO STOP IT WITH THE JUDGEMENT).

WELL, I reckon I'll see yuns later.

Why do rich people throw themselves parties all the time?

I've seen things and wiped things you can't even imagine

People who say they don't like John Mayer are full of poop poop. Yeah I know he's a tool, but he makes your soul better when it needs it. You don't think so?? You're just jealous because he dated Jennifer Aniston. I went through that phase too. We all do.

My job is pretty perfect. Thanks for asking. I'd ask you how you are doing, but it's not your blog so no one cares. I love kids. I know everyone says that, but I actually do. I'm like Angelina Jolie and everyone else is like Jennifer Aniston. They both say they love kids, but which one is adopting third world country babies? A. Jo. and we know that means she must really love kids because she's buying the broken ones that no one wants. I love when kids throw little tantrums at me. I understand them. I relate to them. I throw tantrums every ten minutes in my head, but I'm so good at hiding my bad attitude that you would never know that.

You're arguing with me right now. It's the jealousy thing again. You need John Mayer.

I carried a hammer to work today and it made me feel like a laborer. I was only using it to prevent a nail that was sticking out in the floor from de-eyeing clumsy little chilluns, but still. I carried it and used it all by myself. I think I understand the blue-collar life now. It's not that bad.

I've experienced many spectrums of the political and social experience. I've been a poor black child in the Hotlanta projects; I've been a young red-neck girl in the racist hills of Soddy Daisy; I've been an upper-class teenager in the suburban hell that is Brentwood; I've been the Catholic Republican School girl (I was actually a member of the Christian Leadership Council and the Young Republicans); I've been the liberal vegan college student activist; I've been the lazy apathetic college partier; I've been naked; I've been a little slutty; I've been the blue collar worker (see above description); And now I'm the most important college graduate living at home. I say all this to remind you that I've seen things so I have the right to make solid judgements on all classes and races and species. This is why you read this. Sometimes I just like to remind you of that.

I'm full of shit today. Let me tell you why. I had to wipe....a four.... repeat: FOUR.... year old's asshole today at work. He "didn't know how to wipe." I'm pretty sure all you do is wipe...but it can be confusing. I judged him and his ancestors at that moment. Remember: I have the right to. So, I'm considering calling social services on his mother. She was too pretty anyway. I hate hot moms.

I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU SAY ANYTHING ABOUT MY HOT MOM I WILL MAKE YOU WIPE MY ASSHOLE. You know I can!

Well, technically I'm at work right now so I should go bleach things. Yes. The harmful chemical, bleach, is required by my bosses. I have to spray down all the toys that the little chilluns like to stick in their mouths with bleach. I'm literally killing children. Granted, these are children that don't know how to wipe their asses..soo....


I said poop poop earlier.

I'm full of reminders.



-Katie the Wiper

I want what I want

I really want to be funny. Like all the time. I don't ever want to be serious. I want to make people uncomfortable with how not serious I am. I want to laugh at  cancer patients and kids with mental disabilities.

My philosophy

"I'm going to annoy the shit out of you until you love me."

-Me talking to my cat about 5 seconds ago.


That statement is awkwardly accurate.

Yall don't really know

Today, I woke up and felt like hell's cousin and then went to the kitchen and the dogs were angsty and i had a list of "chores" (adult?) and then my cat vomited. So I decided that I made a mistake and that it was not the time for me to wake up so I ignored all of that, took a shower, got in my bed naked, and tried it again. I napped for about 10 minutes and then retried the morning thing. It was much better the second time around. I don't know which is worse: vomiting or cleaning up someone else's vomit.

Ok. Now ignore that description because my usual routine is different. I wake up at 8 am every morning, I go to work, I come home and help clean the house, I work on my play, I take care of the dogs and my cat, I dance in my room, I go to the gym (sometimes), I eat whole grains, I go to bed at 10 pm, and then I get up and start it all over again. I'm obeying the laws of society and "growing up" but what the world doesn't know is that it's all to please the 'rents to respect their wishes while I live under their roof and then I'm peacin' out from this "normal" existence.

I like how I said "the world doesn't know" but I'm basically broadcasting this information to all of humanity (aka my readers). I'm like one of those reality stars that cheats on their significant other while on camera and then he or she acts surprised when the significant other finds out.

I don't understand people who cheat. I just don't understand it.

Not going there. Focus. ok go. This is what my point is: I am beginning to understand the value of being real but blending it with respecting the wishes of those around you- despite the differences. I say this because for a while I would just get pissed at the lifestyle of my family (and I still do) and I would criticize them constantly. The products are all animal-tested, there is a ridiculous amount of stress in the W. house (that's White house. My father is Obama), and aspartame pollutes the house. Everything EVERYTHING is sugar-free. I hate that fake shit. I HATE IT.

People. Stop cheating through life. Don't cheat on your lovers, especially while on reality t.v., but also stop buying sugar-free cokes and cookies and yogurt and icecream. Keep it real. Since when can you cheat life? Since when you can you beat nature? Ummm you can't. There are consequences for everything. Aspartame is poison, yall. When I was a freshman in college, I would drink only diet drinks and eat only diet foods and it DESTROYED the liner of my esophagus, my muscles atrophied, and I got chronic fatigue. That's fffking real. Some people are more susceptible to the damages of aspartame (like my fragile white ass) but it affects everyone whether you feel it yet or not. This is a new product in society and science is not yet aware of the long-term effects but many many people have suffered aspartame poisoning and many still do and don't realize. NO I KNOW IM NOT A DOCTOR! But I do know what it did to me, and I know others who say the same thing. It's just logical too. It's a chemical that we are putting in our bodies and our bodies are not designed for that kind of stuff. Our bodies need carbohydrates and fats and proteins and vitamins- real ones- not man-made. Men do not know better than nature. Women do, but we are too busy getting in wrecks and crying during our periods to do anything about it. So, keep it real. We have one life. Why would you not want to live it fully? Eat real food, and live real reality... not through a reality show that you watch (although I may love Real Housewives of New Jersey)

FOCUS

As I was saying, you gotta be you but you have to respect those around you because that is the only way to maintain peace and receive respect in return. When I have my own house, you best believe I'll be keeping real icecream in the house and there will be no tabloid magazines in the bathroom and we will not be psychotic about keeping the house spotless all the time, and it will not look like a pottery barn, but while I'm at home and getting so much wonderful support from my family, I'm going to respect their choices in life. All the while I won't forget what is important to me, and that will always ultimately determine my life decisions. So yeah... I'm moving to Washington State and if you don't like that, you can stay at home and distract yourself with American Idol or Lost reruns and I'll go dance naked in the Washington rain daily because when I die, I won't give a fuck what you thought of me. I'll only care about how often I was naked and if it wasn't enough, that will be huge regret.

Life goal: Don't miss a naked opportunity.

I'm bloggin naked right now.


So stop hatin. Stop fakin. Be at peace with your surroundings and internal peace will come that much easier. Peace. Love. Hippie shit.

Preach, William Blake

Those who restrain desire, do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained

Always be ready to speak your mind, and a base man will avoid you.


Every thing possible to be believ'd is an image of truth.

The eagle never lost so much time, as when he submitted to learn of the crow.

The Schoolboy (aka how I feel about the past 18 years of my life)

I love to rise in a summer morn,


When the birds sing on every tree;

The distant huntsman winds his horn,

And the skylark sings with me:

O what sweet company!



But to go to school in a summer morn, -

O it drives all joy away!

Under a cruel eye outworn,

The little ones spend the day

In sighing and dismay.



Ah then at times I drooping sit,

And spend many an anxious hour;

Nor in my book can I take delight,

Nor sit in learning's bower,

Worn through with the dreary shower.



How can the bird that is born for joy

Sit in a cage and sing?

How can a child, when fears annoy,

But droop his tender wing,

And forget his youthful spring!



O father and mother if buds are nipped,

And blossoms blown away;

And if the tender plants are stripped

Of their joy in the springing day,

By sorrow and care's dismay, -



How shall the summer arise in joy,

Or the summer fruits appear?

Or how shall we gather what griefs destroy,

Or bless the mellowing year,

When the blasts of winter appear?

LIFE

So. I'm runnin a daycare. And....I.....am.....living.....at......home. "Living" is such a strong word.

Actually, I'm ok with it. I know it is just for the summer. I already know where I am moving after this summer so I have that to look forward to. And, staying at home always gets me organized and keeps me focused on work/writing/important things rather than gettin wasted. Plus, my parents house is always so dang clean that it makes me feel less like a college student living in sin and debauchery. When you make your physical life organized clean and pretty, it helps to shape your internal life. And vice versa. When the internal and external conflict, though, stability is basically impossible.And I really do want stability. Not in the "nuclear family living in suburbia going to Olive Garden on birthdays and special occassions and spending 6 hours a week at Target and 20 hours a week watching Extreme Home Makeover and American Idol" kind of stability. I want the "I can relax and enjoy life as it comes and know that I can handle whatever comes my way" kind of stability.

It's funny to me how life does not give half-a-hoot about your "plans" but if you let life lead you, you find happiness and content like you never imagined. I'm not saying my life is all flowers and mulberries and shit, but the good definitely helps me cope with the bad and my trust in life allows me to cope with things so much better than I used to. I mean, heck, I never thought I would date and fall in love with a soldier in the military and I never thought that I would graduate school and move home to run a daycare, but I am actually so very happy about these events. Life is pretty brilliant.

But I really don't want to live at home long. Really. REALLY really don't want to so don't get any funny ideas life. DONT.

Ok. I'm done.


I love you all.

Katie

LOVE

You breathed on me and made my life a richer one to live


When I was deep in poverty you taught me how to give

Dried the tears up from my dreams and pulled me from the hole

Quenched my thirst and satisfied the burning in my soul





It’s never been my duty to remake the world at large


Nor is it my intention to sound a battle charge

’Cause I love you more than all of that with a love that doesn’t bend

And if there is eternity I’d love you there again



 
WAM BAM! Thank you ma'am.
And by "ma'am" I mean Bob Dylan.

The Activia Challenge

Ok. I'm feelin bloggy right now.

First of all, I'm watching a commerical about the "Activia Challenge." You know, that yogurt that pleases you digestively. This is what I'm thinking. People take yogurt way too seriously. Why are you making a video diary of your experience with Activia? Why do you want evidence of your irregularity? If you are willing to be in a commercial to document your poop issues, then you have bigger issues to document.

THEN AGAIN, here I am documenting my experience with that chick's poop experience. I am way too closely associated with that woman's poop.

I have decided to create my own challenge- equally uninteresting to the general public but hopefully less...disgusting. I want to write for 1 whole hour every day while eating yogurt. WAIT. NO. No yogurt. That commercial was so convincing, though! I just want to write 1 hour a day. The ultimate goal is to have a play written by September 1, 2010.

Now that I am no longer in school, I am more compelled to learn and accomplish things. Hmmm. Interesting. It seems as though human curiousity can be enough drive to learn, and it is only when outside forces interfere and begin placing their own intentions in one's life that learning becomes a burden rather than a gift and a joy. HOW FREAKIN FASCINATING!

I just like opposing things. I really do. I hate being told what to do. I hate when people believe they deserve respect merely because of a "title" or even because of age. Yes ma'am, you are older than the hills, but does that mean that I am supposed to agree with you when you tell me that global warming is a communist lie? Maybe it does. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I should take that woman's poop seriously. Maybe I have no idea what this world is. Am I that girl? Am I that girl that shows up to every party thinking she was invited and that people want to have sex with her so as a favor to the party people she gets naked when really everyone just wants her to put her clothes on and live in a cave? Am I that girl!? AM I EVEN A GIRL!? I look in the mirror and I have my doubts! Who is Justin Beiber? Am I supposed to care? How often does he poop??? WHAT MATTERS???


Not this blog.


Coldplay matters.


I have to go.



Sorry,
Katie

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH GOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

OH MY GOSH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Warning: This post is extremely insensitive and unnecessary.

 So the post I wrote about 4.67 seconds ago is the whiniest bunch of bullshit in the world. Even worse than those fuckin starving Africans.I was about to delete said post and then I realized that I wrote it for a reason, though, and I should just leave it up to be judged. Judge away.

Oh and if I didn't insult humanity enough with the harsh words against the sufferings of those in third-world african societies, here is a picture of a cat at gunpoint.

This is symbolic.

Fruits and sexual metaphors

You know how I pretend to be all self-aware? Oh you don't know that? Wow. You are even less aware of me than I am. Rude.

Well, at times, I really do think that I know who I am, but other times reality smacks me around and I can't tell if it is doing it in a fun kinky kinda way or a legitimate beat the shit out of me way. That specific confusion is the root of many of my problems.

Anyway, I say that because I may not know how I treat others or how I make others feel at all. And I may not have a clue why I treat others the way I do. This is what got me thinkin about that:

Early in the day heinousness was flowing forth from every pore of my body and I was ok with that because it needed to happen. I have felt that heinousness bubbling below the surface and, hell! (internal exclamation point. interesting choice. thank you.), I don't want to deal with that! I would much rather others have to deal with my unbearable attitude. So I just let myself be. I didn't try to hide that I was upset for various reasons. I didn't just talk to hear myself speak, either. If I didn't have anything to say, I didn't say anything. I didn't try to lighten the mood to keep anyone from feeling uncomfortable. I just said, "Hey you! It's me!" and he/she said, "Whoa! Who's that?!" and then I said, "I JUST SAID IT'S ME!" and then he/she said, "Wait.. you aren't being funny or charming or taking care of me!" and then I said "I know I'm usually amazing and my words heal the world, but today I'm going to sit here and let the world rot so that I can stew in my own pissy-ness for a bit."

Those are the brilliant first lines of my new play, "When I talk, I say."

Anyway, I did all that business and then hell quite literally sprung forth from the pores of mother earth (Reggie, you have just been out-hippied! sorry others. that's a game the reg and I play) and my pissy-ness grew in volume. It wasn't the clear, hydrated pissy-ness, either. It was I just ate asparagus and drank a large blue-raspberry gas station slushie kind of pissy-ness. This got me athinkin'. Deep down in my heart, I think I really believe that others really don't give a shit about me. I know that sounds emo and junk, and I know I have great friends that love me, but that is just an issue of mine. We all have issues and that's mine! NOT THAT YOU CARE, ASSHOLE! Sorry. No, but what I'm sayin is that the one time when I really just did not worry about glazing over my problems with "I mean I know it will work out" or "I know it isn't a big deal" or "I'm sure I'm overreacting" or any other bullshit phrases that mask the true emotion I'm dealing with, the universe gave me the finger and everything just got messier and in the end I was very disappointed in the response. I feel like I really do listen to my good friends (at least I hope I do) and try to understand when they aren't being themselves or when they maybe are being a bit rude because they have shit in their lives. I try to help them as best as I can because I care about them. I am not Jesus (I don't think...) so I usually don't really know exactly what to say or what to do to fix all, but I just say or do what I would want from someone else because that is all I can draw from. Not from everyone, but from many people, I don't feel like I get the same respect or consideration. People expect me to be a certain way and when I'm not, their faces melt off and they get uncomfortable because they are faceless. So instead of asking what is wrong or paying attention to the more intense things I have in my life and maybe inquiring about them every once in a while just to see how I'm doing, they just ignore the situation until I'm acting my usual crazy, loud, sarcastic, indecisive, wackadoo self. Well, I know that I am a lot to handle. I know I am really difficult to get along with sometimes because I can be a huge fantastic diva with long curly locks of shimmering hair, but even with all my apparent confidence and vitality of sorts, I would like every once in a goddamn blue fuckin moon (yeah.. I'm not Jesus) for one or two people that I love to maybe try to take care of me. I realize that sounds so lame. I sound like Bella from Twilight (First twilight reference in this blog. This blog is really going downhill). But I'm trying to be honest here. I really am a fragile lil peach and I want someone to lovingly stroke my fuzz (why are looking at me like I just made a vagina reference?)

Here is my next question. Here it is. And now. Am I just asking others how they are doing and taking an interest in them and their problems because I want it in return? Is it all based in selfishness? Do people really care about one another or do we just want others to care about us and feel obligated to return the sentiment?

I started this post with the idea that it was going to be brief, hilarious, and life-altering. It took a rather long, boring, life-stunting turn. Yay wasting your time reading my blog!

I guess I say all this because I want all 600,000 of my dedicated readers to start calling and emailing me on a semi-hourly basis to constantly check on me and pity me and baby me. That's all I want in life. To be pittied and pathetic.

No, but really I'm fine. I'm sure it will all work out. I can handle it. It's ok. Really.

(heinousness bubbling)

Who do you care about? Why? Do you show them? How? Are these questions cheesy and irritating? Good.

Jellyfish

 My boobs each have a boy name and a girl name. I think that is very symbolic of my life right now.



So, I really am graduating. REALLY. I am just about really and truly done with school, and I'm just wondering why no one told me that school prepares you for nothing. NOTHING.

No it doesn't, asshole! IT DOES NOT PREPARE YOU FOR THAT!

Oh, school was supposed to teach me about being responsible? Is that why I got drunk, showed up late for classes or skipped them all together the next day, and then ate taco bell while watching Keeping Up With the Kardashians when I got home? hmm?

Oh, school was supposed to teach me about the value of hard work? Is that why I bullshitted 90% of my classes and still managed to pass and graduate in 4 years?? hmmmm???

Oh, school was supposed to teach me to be a viable member of society? Is that why I am leaving school unemployed, broke, and with a strong will to get drunk, not look for a job the next day, eat taco bell and watch Keeping Up With the Kardashians at my parents house? hmmmmmmm???!!

Oh, school was supposed to teach me how to follow my dreams? Is that why I was forced to take an ungodly amount of classes that had no relevance to those dreams that my little shining spirit yearned to follow? HMMMM??!!

Oh, school was supposed to drain my parents financially while simultaneously draining that same little shining spirit that I discussed during the previous snarky question of its sense of adventure and excitement to get up in the morning? SUCCESS!

It really deeply affects that same little shining spirit mentioned in the previous two questions that I am 21 and am JUST NOW figuring out that school has nothing to do with living.


NO IT DOESN'T!

Yeah, ok. So I appreciate that I can read, and I love that I can speak some espanol, and I dig that I have read some really great plays and learned some really groovy things about the world in my sociology classes and such. I can see some value in those things. definitely. BUT I did not need 18 years to learn those lessons AND I would have learned more had I gone out and experienced more in my life. But Lawd Knows that the way our society thrives  in this idea that life is about spending tens upon tens upon hundreds of thousands of dollars on education just so that you can go out and do a job that wears you out and makes you physically and mentally ill in order to earn money just so that you can pay for your kids to go out and do the same damn thing. All the while, you got a mortgage on a generic 2 story brick house, a gas-guzzling car that earns you some social status among a group of people that honestly don't know any real truth about you nor do they care, and a wife or husband that you love but never have time to do the things you always said you would. You have settled because "settling down" is the goal. We hear it all the time. "It's time to settle down with a nice lad/lass and have some kids." Is that right though? Is it wrong? I DONT KNOW

I know it's a pattern for a reason. Is the reason that it's natural and that humans really do want that? Or is it a pattern because the "stable" "nuclear" "family" is easier for the powerful people that make money off of this pattern to control and manipulate. If everyone was just a crazy hippie beatnik life-lover and everyone really did do whatever he or she wanted, not what society or his or her parents or friends or teachers expected, then everyone would truly be an individual and the group mentality would cease to exist. And with no group mentality, the people in power would have no power anymore and without that power, they may just have to look inside themselves and realize that they never once questioned the pattern that their life had fallen into. Never once did they do what they really wanted. They only did what society said would make them valuable and rich and important. The thing about society, though, is that it has no heart. It has no compassion. Society is a jellyfish.

I'm aware that I'm a cliche. I GET IT. I'm 21; I hate the Man; I listen to jazz; I dance naked in the rain; I read poetry; I wear converses. YEAH. I'm not special.

But I am scared of the largeness of life, and I want to contribute something great to that life. That is what makes the liberal college cliche of a student wonderful and a force to be reckoned with. We are full of energy and fear and alcohol and angst and all of a sudden, school ends and we have a world of actual choices to step into. No more teachers or parents saying go do this at this time. Nope. We choose where we work, where we live, who we see, and what we value. People underestimate and devalue the freshly graduated liberal because we remind those who do not see the potential and grandness in life anymore of what they have lost and how far they have strayed and how deep into the debt, not the financial kind either, they are in life. We remind them of their mortgage and their shitty job and their less-than-thrilling relationship with their spouse and their complete disconnect from their own dreams and passions. Underneath their judgment and condescending scoffs is jealousy. You know how I know this? Because in school, that's what they always told me. If someone is rude and bullying you, he or she is jealous.

Hmm.. Maybe school is important. Ok. I take it all back. Wait. Changed my mind again! OH THE INCONSISTENCIES OF YOUTH

I am a zealous supporter of a life truly lived, and I know that like most passions, that fierce support will fade at times, but I hope that when that happens I will remember that I am going to die one day. Really. Die. Dead. Not exist. So in between now and then, I have to do everything that my heart desires so I have no time to get caught up in man-made "rules" for life. Each individual has his/her own brain, own body, own spirit for a reason. If we were all meant to want the same things from life, we would not need the intelligence we are all born with. I believe that we are born infinititely more wise than we are when we start going to school. Because before school, we have no real concept of grades or money or fashion or laws. We have hunger. We have thirst. We have raw emotions. We cry whenever the fuck we feel we should. We laugh loudly. We sing in public. We bring our imaginations into the tangible world and don't care who is looking. We have fun outside with only our friends to play with and the grass to run through and the trees to climb. Only when the "mature" "intelligent" "adults" begin informing us of society's pressures do we begin to suppress and mold ourselves into something more "acceptable."

I don't see this changing in this world. I'm realistic. But I do like to remind myself of these things because while I cannot change the world, I can change myself. I can choose to never lose the child within me. I can choose to be free within the chains that bind me. No one controls my mind and how I percieve and believe the world to be. This brain is mine, and it has been long before you taught me how to read and write. This life is mine, and it will always be no matter how much you want to own me and my decisions. So, thank you school for teaching me some cool fun little skills, but I want to focus my time of graduation on thanking myself for always seeking the truth that often escapes the scope of facts. I want to thank myself for living- for simply being- in a time when society values doing and doing and working and altering and nipping and tucking and faking.

Oh. And I'm really not all that liberated and free. I still feel fat most of the time; I worry constantly about disappointing people around me; I am considering grad school; and I eat meat again.

Hypocrisy?

No. I like to call it Hippieocrisy.

Shit. I'm human, and all humans say one thing and do another. It's what makes us all so dumb. It's also what makes us so interesting.

People don't makes sense. You know how I know? Because I don't make sense, and all people are the same. No one is special. I can see that because I went to school and can make sense of things. Make sense?

Ultimately the meaning of life is whatever you want it to be because your life and all its experiences are unique to you and thus the meaning of life is an individual discovery. You are special. I know that because I just do.

Life is an argument between 2 sides: the liberal and the conservative; the christian and the athiest; the cat person and the wrong person; the left hemisphere of the brain and the right; the logical and the inexplicable.

Don't try and make sense of it because then you will end up making a blog that only puts more useless bullshit into the world than is already in existence with E! tv programming.

Oh I gotta go! Keeping Up with the Kardashians is on.

Fuck off.
I love you.

-4:40 am Katie

Do I do what I want?


Honestly, for most of my life I don't think I have. I have done what my parents want, what my teachers want (that's a big one), what my lovers want (that makes me sound like a 40 year old divorcee), what PETA wants, what the Man wants, and what the Man of La Mancha wants. People be wantin a lot! STOP WANTIN PEOPLE!

Shit. I'm runnin late. I gotta be somewhere...but do I want to be???


Do you do what you want?

You should.

Because I want you to.


KKtheKoolKid

Edgard Varese - Ionisation

Nothing is more liberating than letting your tits out to breathe.

More on this later.

I like people.

Ok. It is 3:23 am. Time to write.

People amaze me. So, my boyfriends family is driving all the way from CTown to KTown to see me play one of the tiniest roles ever created. They are coming without Matt (obviously) to see me! That blows my mind. Blown. Done. I rarely give people credit for being wonderful. Hippies really aren't that loving. We hate people and their mindless conformity to greed-driven popular culture. Well, we love other hippies, but even then, not really, but we are too stoned when we are around each other to see that all humans are the same and that hippies are just smellier versions of the same bullshit. I give all my respect and adoration to animals; therefore, I spend most of my time talking to birds and cuddling with bunnies. Today, though, I was reminded that people can be....good.... gosh that was hard for me to say, and I should maybe put more time into respecting other people.

Mark pointed out to me today that sometimes I am less-than-tolerant to the existance of other people, especially people who waste my time by speaking when they should either be listening to me speak or reading my blog. So, I am going to work on respecting other people because, as Matt's family proves, some people really do deserve it.

My advice for the day, then, is to try to go a whole day (at least) without complaining. I worked on that today (and failed, but still tried!) and found that when I stop putting negativity into the universe, I was more receptive to positive vibes and other hippie things. As soon as I stopped whining about people, I started seeing more of the good that is within everyone.


All I want is to be happy, and I am going to go ahead and speak for everyone on the planet (because that is my right as an American) and say that is all anyone really wants. Something that simple is usually made so complicated, though, because of the clutter that surrounds us all. We get so caught up in money and power trying to change others that we forget that if we just focused on being truly happy with ourselves that life would be great. If we transform ourselves into content individuals, then the world and the people that surround us could never change our inner peace, except to maybe enhance it. So, if life is a struggle for you at this moment, try to alter your perception of things rather than complaining about the exterior factors that you have no control over. Then, you will truly gain control over your own happiness. You worry about you and let me worry about the rest. My blog will fix all.

Also, I need to talk less and listen more.

And clean my room.

I love you all, dammit.

-Katie the Sassy Lady

Cussing makes me feel dirty...in a good way, in a bad way.

I skipped class today. I have skipped a majority of my geography classes, but should I really feel bad? Geography classes never show up for me.

4 more days of class and then I can stop complaining about school and start complaining about not school.

Complaining... It seems like humans do it so much we must enjoy it, which means we should be happy, which means we shouldn't be complaining. Lately I have been very annoyed with hearing people complain and in the midst of my annoyance I failed to realized that I was complaining about them complaining. I am at one of the more bitchy points in my life. I talk a lot of shit. I talk smack. I smack talk. I almost shmack talk. All that shmacking, though, is rooted in things I don't like about myself.

I hate when the things they teach you in elementary school end up being true. Yesterday I realized there is some legitamacy to addition. That shit pissed me off. And now thewhole "when bullies bully, it's because they are insecure" nonsense is proving correct too, except now I'm the bully. But what, pray tell, am I insecure about?

I think it's that I am afraid I am not interesting, and so I resort to being witty and bitchy because it's easy for me, and it always gets a laugh.

Oh hell. I have class in a bit. I would just save this post and finish it later, but I know that I'll forget and never post it so I'm going to leave you oh so unsatisfied while I go to class, get pissy, talk shit in the back of the room, feel guilty about it, eat icecream to relieve the pain, get fat, then sit in my house for the rest of my life blogging and hiding from reality, and then have a TLC special called: The Big Blogger.

Later!

Bullshit

K. I'm back. I just got back from an amazing Shakespeare class that just reaffirms my belief in what I am setting out to do: change the world with art.

That doesn't make me sound like a tool.

I realized my last post makes me sound very anti-Christian. At least I think it does. I really can't tell how I come off to people. The truth is, I really am not. 99% of my friends are Christian. My bf is Christian. My parents are Christian. It's just what I know best so it is easier for me to compare other beliefs to it. It is also easier for me to criticize. In the end, though, my words don't matter. So if I offend you, just remember that I don't matter and you will feel better.

I'm done with that topic though. Let's talk about trust.

Who do you really trust? Like 100% trust. You would tell them your most private and most embarrassing stories. Is there anyone?

I am not a trusting person. I don't think there is anyone that I would tell ANYTHING to. I'm working on it, though, because I think that is something that has kept me from being truly happy. Being guarded is all well and good. It makes you mysterious and sexy. It gives you an excuse to brood. Not trusting is very fashionable, but if I'm going to be honest with myself, I'm already so fashionable that any more fashion would just be redundant.

I think I have spread my trust too thin. I know a lot of people. It's the nature of theatre. You meet people all the time because your job and the people you work with constantly changes. So, I know all these people and it is physically impossible to maintain as many friendships as I would like. There are some really cool people in this world that would be great friends, but there just isn't time! There are also some really shitty people in the world that, on the surface, seem funny and groovy, but in the end, they disappoint you greatly. This has been really affecting me lately. I have too many people in my life and I feel this pressure to always be funny and exciting to all of them because I don't know most of them well enough to really be myself. This pressure causes me to be resentful and a little bit less than friendly to humanity.

I think most people spread themselves too thin. Whether it be in their work or their friendships or in the number of women they flirt with. People overestimate their capabilities and end up having less meaningful relationships. True wisdom shows itself in people who know how much and what they are capable of. In American society, though, people see wisdom as those who do not know the word, "enough." We are raised to be the BEST and the RICHEST and the HOTTEST, but the problem with those goals is that they are truly impossible. If we base our happiness on comparisons to others, we will always be disappointed. If, though, we know what we need, only use what we need, and know our talents, and use those talents, we will find more success and more contentment. This does not suggest that one should not work harder to improve one's skills and abilities or not work to better him/herself in the areas that one is less able in, but it only helps to know what the strengths and weaknesses we have (and we all have both of these things. even Oprah. No. Oprah is a robot). Honesty is the key in acting...in relationships...and in knowledge of self.

So my current goal is to eliminate clutter in my life. I need to not make promises like, "YEAH LET'S GET COFFEE SOON!" if I honestly don't want to or just don't have the time. I want my relationships with my family members and my closest friends and my Matt to be as strong as possible, and being a socialite does not make that goal realistic.

20 minutes until class. That is not enough time for me to write something witty so I'll just quote James McGuire (speaking of eliminating clutter)

"Life is like a flower, it'll open when it wants to, and I am homeschooled"
James McGuire.

Like a Whore in Church

It has been a long time since I have braved the blog. I go through phases when nothing seems more awful in this world than my blog (I know you understand that). I have realized, though, that when I go a while without blogging, I am substancially less happy. It's time to get happy!

How do I restart this blogging thing? Do I jump straight into religion and politics or ease my way into this with something that is less likely to inspire you to kill yourself?

Religion it is.

So apparently religion is a big deal. Even though I try to ignore its very existence, it keeps being that friend that you really don't like but every once in a while he or she says something really funny and it makes you think that maybe things will be different now so you sleep with him and then you see that, nope, you still don't like him and then you spend all your time being pissed at yourself for being such a whore and then you talk a whole bunch of shit about him because A)it's easy and B) somehow it seems that the more shit you talk about him the less you slept with him and then you feel like a douche so you apologize to him and you rekindle your friendship and then you sleep together again.

Why are all my metephors rooted in sex? That sounds like a metaphor for something.


Why do metaphors exist? Trees give us shade, backpacks give us storage, metaphors give us... blogs. gross.

Religion. Right.

Basically, I went to church this past Sunday. Not only did I go to church... I went to Catholic Church. The ULTIMATE Church. You know? The church that allowed you to pay for forgiveness and the one that burned people at the stake and the one that won't let women lead worship because God is a man with a big dick that drives a loud truck? That one.

And I gotta say something. It wasn't awful. It was like that third time you sleep with someone and you finally start to remember that sex is supposed to be fun and not awkward. Not great, but surprisingly not awful.

I swear I'm not a whore.

I went to church with my roommate, and I really did get stuff out of it. Did I become a Catholic? no. Did I become a Christian? No. What I did do, though, is appreciate the tradition and the beauty of mass. The priest was an idiot. The Bible verses were boring. There was this crazy loud dude behind me that said things in Latin. But I found peace in being in a room (a rather large, rather ornate room) with a bunch of people who weren't arguing, but were at peace. They all felt they believe the same things as everyone else. I mean, people were bored out of their minds at times, but there were striking moments when I could feel the energy in the room get very intense in a very lovely way. My favorite part was the sharing of peace. Everyone shakes each others hands and says, "Peace be with you." How lovely. How lovely. So I shook all the hands around me and smiled and really looked at these people. I felt connected to them.

This is what I'm getting at. When people come together in peace and love, it feels nice. No one was there hating on homosexuals or arguing about Hilary Clinton. It wasn't about that. It was about worship and love. In that sense, church is wonderful. If only society could be so peaceful, quiet, and loving and come together to, to a certain extent, worship this planet and the beauty that surrounds us. In that church on Sunday, there were probably 100 people there, and even though they were mostly Catholic (I was probably the only non-Catholic but maybe not), one must assume they all have different political beliefs and some different specific religious beliefs, as well. Despite that, though, there was no arguing. That is what Relgion should always be.

I plan on going to church with the Reg whenever I don't have rehearsal or a show. It is a great time for me to meditate and bring life back into focus. Maybe it's because I was raised Catholic, but the Catholic Church is so beautiful to me. It feels like home. Too bad I'm going to hell. Hopefully hell looks like a Catholic Church.

If I wasn't offensive, everyone would love me way too much and then I would distract people from Jesus. I'm doing Christians a favor.

Oh. And I really am curious as to the percentage of Christians that know that Jesus wasn't white.

I have much more to say of the non-religious nature but apparently I am still in school and have class in 10 minutes. Why can't class be like the the second-coming of Jesus? Always near but never here.

Peace be with you.
And Also with you.

Amen.

My Life According to Shakespeare

Weary with Toil, I haste me to my Bed,
The dear Repose for Limbs with Travail tired;
But then begins a Journey in my Head
To work my Mind, when Body's Work's expired.
For then my Thoughts (from far where I abide)
Intend a zealous Pilgramage to Thee,
And keep my drooping Eyelids open wide,
Looking on Darkness which the Blind do see;
Save that my Soul's imaginary Sight
Presents their Shadow to my Sightless View,
Which, like a Jewel hung in ghastly Night,
Makes black Night beauteous and her old Face new.
      Lo thus by Day my Limbs, my Night my Mind,
      For Thee, and for my Self, no Quiet find.

No me gusta la autoridad. no es una sopresa.

Don't you hate it when I put things in Spanish just to prove that I can?

So here is what I learned today.... I don't like authority. It isn't a surprise.

Oh, by the way, that isn't what the Spanish above says.

Oh, by the way, yes it is.

Got 'em.


Yeah it's obvious that I put on the image that I don't like authority. It's a requirement for having a blog. And, yes, people tell me that I don't listen to authority well, but I don't usually listen to those people because I'm too busy listening to authority, except...wait...no I'm not. I'm NOT busy listening to authority. I'm busy being a self-absorbed prick. Why didn't anyone tell me!??


This is why I don't listen to authority. Because there is no authority in my world. There is me being the boss of me and that's my life.

So, should I change this?

Right now I'm thinking I should. Why? Because I was an ornary biatch today...really everyday. I get SO pissed in classrooms. It's immediate. I walk in and then I become a 21 year old drunk guido and I need to fist pump, then get in a bar fight, and let everyone know that I'm the king of Jersey. In the moment it seems so appropriate. I feel like classes are wasting my time and that teachers don't respect me because I'm a student, and I feel like theatre people are so fond of hearing themselves speak that they find any excuse to ask a long question that incorporates too much pausing. You guys! Pacing! Learn it! It's pretty much all we study! But now, that I'm bloggin,g I realize that ,I am wasting you,r time, I am ,,not respecting you,, as a reader, and that I ,am a little more than f,ond of hearing, (or seeing, rather) myself speak in this bloggy blog (those commas call for pauses).

So while yes, I really do think school is wasting my time, por lo general (did I mention I speak Spanish?), many of my theatre professors and peers do know what they are talking about and I should listen. So I apologize for being a diva.

BUT THEN AGAIN, maybe I'm so pissed all the time because things need to change and I need to start a revolution. I would be great at that! I can appeal to the masses with my gender neutral appearance and my rapport with cultural minorities (whatever that means).

Oh. Side note. I got my census packet today, and was very excited about it. Then I filled it out, and got offended. I'm not quite sure why.

Back to my revolution. I will revolt against the establishment, and other very specific things such as that. And then I will get arrested and people will make t-shirts that beg for my liberation, and then the war in Afghanistan and Iraq will end, and the my bf will come home, and then I'll spend all my time with him, then I'll forget about my revolution and my followers will turn against me, and then I will be elected to Congress because that is the next logical step, and then I will get my picture taken with the Pope.

Somewhere in there, I'll probably stop blogging so it's a win for everyone really.

See, if authority spoke as clearly and concisely and deliberately and brilliantly as that above paragraph, I'd listen.

My hypocrisy is upsetting. The picture of the Pope and I will be next to "hypocrisy" in the dictionary.



This post proves why I am not good at Twitter. And it also proves why the plays and/or sitcoms I write will never actually go anywhere and won't contribute anything to society.. like LOST

OH NO SHE DIDN'T!


Fine. I'll allow you to watch Lost, if you promise not to go to the circus. If you want to know more, I'm going to post information about circuses in my next post.


Viva La Hippieocrisy!

-Katie



PS.  http://moose-drool.blogspot.com/     -Not your typical soldier.

There is angry subtext in this post.

So, I am pretty sure I have had an iron deficiency because I have been ridiculously (oh. and people. it's RIdiculous. not REdiculous. You are not diculousling again)( sorry... that was condescending. You guys are precious little sweetie cuties pies) fatigued and delirious. I have been taking 3 naps a day and getting dizzy. I realized, though, that because I have been Veggie-ing it again...it's probably because of that. Vegetarianism is such a douche. Here I am supporting it and loving it, and it's going to college 800 miles away and dating some asshole that I have clearly said that she should not be dating. Metaphorically, of course.

I'm watching "Fame," the new movie version, with Reggie right now. It is discouraging to me because all these kids are very talented but they are in this movie. Then, I think about my life, and I know that I am ridiculously talented but I am WATCHING this movie. Then I think about the things I say, and I know I should stop talking, but I won't.

K.

"Artists are the most important people in the world"
                                                           -Artists

So, I know this has been the theme of the past too many posts, but it's what's on my mind. Here it is. I am graduating in less than 2 months. Like....real talk. Me. Real world. Responsibilities. Money. MARRIAGE? KIDS? MORTGAGES? BOOK CLUBS???


I know EVERYONE says this, but I want my life to be lived outside the box. Mainly because I want my autobiography and Lifetime Movie about my life to make me millions so that I can buy a mansion and hire illegal immigrants cheaply so that I use most of my money on designer brand blenders and purses and then have a kid who will grow up to be an heiress who will then make her own millions by having a reality show and a perfume line that is tested on animals and then she will be the spokesperson for a diet pill that will help thousands of fatties lose weight and then about half of them will die young from cancer and the other half will have mysterious pain that comes and goes so they go to the doctor and spend thousands of dollars on prescription drugs that are tested on animals and used on Africans before given to those upper-class white women with health insurance when all they really needed to do was drink more water and eat foods that aren't filled with hormones and pesticides and all sorts of chemicals.

Whoa. I think I just blacked out. What was I sayin?

Right. Graduating. When I graduate, I am going to live.

Actually... shouldn't I be living now?


Here is my advice for the day. Listen to it. Don't question it. Believe everything I say, and then teach your kids to believe everything I say and then continue this pattern for thousands of years and at some point someone will write a book based on my teachings that will become sacred and then people will use my words to justify wars, segregate the masses, and prevent people from asking questions about what they eat, who they vote for, or how they should live their life because companies and candidates and television evangelists throw the word "Katlyn" around to make all they say seem good on the surface.

Blackout again.

HERE is my advice: Don't base your life on something that is "coming up." Don't say, "As soon as ____ happens, I'll be happy." Be happy in this very moment. BE HAPPY!

So I'm done saying, "As soon as I graduate, I'll be happy," or "As soon as Matt comes back, I'll be happy," "Or as soon as Ingrid stops attacking me in random fits of rage, I'll be happy." I'll be happy now, and that's all I can really control. Who knows what the future holds? So if I depend on something that is coming in the future, there is no guarantee that I'll ever really get there.

I want to make a metaphor about a wasted life being like Christmas shopping at Walmart, but I won't.

Oh yes. AND HAPPY THURSDAY! Thursdays are awesome. Celebrate it somehow. Even if its just by running outside while its raining. I always find that thrilling.

I love you all, and I hope that my angsty rants don't turn you off. All I really want to do is turn you on.

-Katlyn, The Blog Tease