Home!

Here I am, home, breathing easy.
Mountains surround me, catch my attention as we drive.
Danny picked me up; as usual, it involved a little bit of running, a big smile and an even bigger hug.
Heat. No cold like Chicago here.
Morning bright and blue, no gray.
Days stretch on forever, time slipping away.
Ah, I start work tomorrow.
No bueno.
I don't own any more Dairy Queen clothes.
Danny's mom likes me.
I love their yellow lab Emma.
Katie and I got into our own set of mischief last night. It was nice, to be back doing the things we've always done.
Stella's tea.

Dear Mom,

There they were, sitting at the bottom of a box left over from freshman year: The stamps.

Censorhsip

I am careful of what I write, hesitant fingers hanging over plastic keys, begging to be stamped down and repeated, again and again, forming words with their movements, the sounds making steady music from it. Each letter comforts the next, the up and down and up and down becomes a constant rhythm. Yet, I hesitate. Stopping, dangling a word over the keys, their begging is silent, though, and I resist.
The readers checks them, stopping daily, weekly, as it pops us in their favorites. The words mean nothing to them. They stop and read, as though it's the daily newspaper. They do not realize they've been fooled. There is nothing here but empty words, spun out of boredom or the chance that maybe once I'll say what I'm thinking, what's poised on the edge of my brain.
I never stop wondering, thinking, realizing, dreaming, assuming, whatever. But when I sit down to play the symphony of these keys, my words float away from me in some angry tide of feeling and I am left with nothing.
I stare. White screen. Blank. The keys sit. Untouched. I think. No, that won't work. She won't like it. or. No, that won't work. They don't know what it is. I realize that for life to be a story, one must have an eager audience. No novel is woven out of words for the sake of hearing the symphony. It is only written because the conductor begs someone to listen or to understand. It is the hope, I think, the hope that someone will appreciate the keeps them typing aimlessly or purposely however they set about it. There has to be a goal, always is, even if it's self-awareness.
Only in the bound book, hidden in the secret places, stashed in a backpack, clasped between pale hands or tucked into a drawer are the secrets spilled out with ink.
Sirens squeal other stories outside this building in the heart of the city.
I sit, saying nothing, wasting energy for the reader to comprehend.
But all is not lost.

Love Love Lovely

"One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life: That word is love." - Sophocles

"We love because it's the only true adventure." - Nikki Giovanni

"Love is like quicksilver in the hand. Leave the fingers open and it stays. Clutch it, and it darts away." - Dorothy Parker

"Love is friendship set on fire." - unknown

***"Love is everything it's cracked up to be. That's why people are so cynical about it...It really is worth fighting for, risking everything for. And the trouble is, if you don't risk everything, you risk even more." - Erica Jong*** (I love this one.)

"Maybe love is like luck. You have to go all the way to find it." - Robert Mitchum

"Loves makes your soul crawl out from its hiding place." - Zora Neale Hurston

"Love is the irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired." - Mark Twain

"Love is more than three words mumbled before bedtime. Love is sustained by action, a pattern of devotion in the things we do for each other every day." - Nicholas Sparks

"To love is to receive a glimpse of heaven." - Karen Sunde


And reading these, do you remember love?
Do you remember the butterflies in your stomach?
Seeing them, calling them, that first kiss.
Not even romantic love, just the love that it's possible to share for another person. I was pulling pictures off my wall the other day. There's me and Katie, smiling, sitting on her car when we were 16. There's me and Danny in his car on our last day of summer. There's me and Emily, on our road trip to Glenwood Springs. Your best friend, you mom, someone, anyone. There's enough to go around.
My first memory of perfect love remains a picture of a summer afternoon spent in a park, laying in the grass looking up into the trees. I took a picture then, I've posted it before. It's perfect. We held hands, our bodies not touching as we soaked up the sunshine, wasting a perfect weekend afternoon with each other. I thought then that this was something special, I had no idea where it would lead. I shifted, laying my head on his stomach, in a that questioning tense first touch. Now, I slip my hand into his and know that it's normal. It feels like home.
Too often, I think, we forget the little things that made us fall in love. The glint in his eyes when he looks at me, the way he makes me laugh, the long drives that we do early in the morning, it's these things that make me think that sometimes we let everything else get in the way of feelings.
Tonight, everything got the better of me, and for the fifth time in as many days, I found myself sniffling into the phone, in a foul mood, trying to pick a fight with him just to make myself feel better. And for the fifth time in five days, he came to my rescue, making me laugh, not letting me fight with him, not letting me think about what was wrong. He makes it better. He doesn't understand, he tells me that, but he tells me that no matter what, he'll listen to me and be there for me. He sympathizes, and sometimes that's enough. He talks to me until I'm calmer, until everything has fallen back into place. He does the cute things that have become the things we share between us. He gets to love me more today, so I let him, even though he doesn't. He couldn't.
So tell someone you love that you really love them.
Do it, and remember when you fell in love.
And save that feeling. It's that one that you just can't bottle up. You just have to try to keep it and hope it will never end.
Good luck.

oh and p.s. here it is....my favorite memory of the day I realized I loved him.

Take Care Packages

First box home today.
Two more lay packed on ready on the kitchen floor.
I am ready, ready, ready,
not at all.

One final done.
Four more to go.
Papers, papers, news story, papers, test, test.
Home.

I can't wait to get off the plane.
I can't wait to see him waiting there.
I can't wait to jump into his arms
and feel home.

Six days.

The train tonight.
I smelled the air,
pungent from below and
realized it was one day
closer to the last.

Time. Is. Slipping. Away.

Finals week begins.

Finals week begins.
I have two tests, one on Friday and another next Monday.
I also have one written final, one take-home writing portion of a test, three papers, and a final news story.
I packed my first box today. It is small and heavy, but I'm thinking that with a few more boxes, I'll be able to fit most of my things into the suitcases. I have gone through my wardrobe and found things that I do not wear as much as I should, and I am donating them before I leave so that I don't have to worry about bringing them home. I even donated that pair of jeans I've been holding onto. It's great, because I need to buy new jeans anyway, so getting rid of some will be nice. Also, Chicago has a much bigger homeless population than Denver.
So it works for everyone. I'm leaving the trashcan that I bought because no one wants to bring a trashcan home. And the giant posters will have to stay too. I don't know how I'm going to get my other posters home. I may just buy a poster roller thing....and then have that shipped out.

We were looking through Loyola's famous graduates last night and found one oddity among the bunch. An adult entertainment actress. I wonder what the school thinks of that. Also, the guitarist from 90s band The Smashing Pumpkins (!!!) and the lead singer from the heavy metal band Disturbed. I'll go and find the list and put it up.

Danny's dance recital is today. He was enrolled in Ghanaian Music and Dance, and thus had to learn a dance from Ghana, Africa. Today, he preforms it at some sort of festival at Lewis and Clark. He called me this morning, and we talked for awhile before he had to go. He's not sure he wants to be in Portland anymore, but to be honest, I think he just needs a break. He's been there since August with one trip home. I've been flying all around this semester, so it's been nicely broken up.
He just wants to get home and see me (!) which I can't wait for. He's picking me up at the airport on Monday. We're going to see the Botanic Garden's light show on Tuesday night, which I have never done. We drove by after Thanksgiving one evening to see if the lights were up, and he was shocked that I had never been.

I don't know how you feel about nature-esque television, but Planet Earth on Discovery channel has been wonderful. I watched a marathon of it yesterday as I sat battling some strange illness on the couch.

Ah, well, nothing important. High-stress situation.

It won't go, in case you don't know.....

"Stairway To Heaven"

There's a lady who's sure all that glitters is gold
And she's buying the stairway to heaven.
When she gets there she knows, if the stores are all closed
With a word she can get what she came for.
Ooh, ooh, and she's buying the stairway to heaven.

There's a sign on the wall but she wants to be sure
'Cause you know sometimes words have two meanings.
In a tree by the brook, there's a songbird who sings,
Sometimes all of our thoughts are misgiven.
Ooh, it makes me wonder,
Ooh, it makes me wonder.

There's a feeling I get when I look to the west,
And my spirit is crying for leaving.
In my thoughts I have seen rings of smoke through the trees,
And the voices of those who stand looking.
Ooh, it makes me wonder,
Ooh, it really makes me wonder.

And it's whispered that soon if we all call the tune
Then the piper will lead us to reason.
And a new day will dawn for those who stand long
And the forests will echo with laughter.

If there's a bustle in your hedgerow, don't be alarmed now,
It's just a spring clean for the May queen.
Yes, there are two paths you can go by, but in the long run
There's still time to change the road you're on.
And it makes me wonder.

Your head is humming and it won't go, in case you don't know,
The piper's calling you to join him,
Dear lady, can you hear the wind blow, and did you know
Your stairway lies on the whispering wind.

And as we wind on down the road
Our shadows taller than our soul.
There walks a lady we all know
Who shines white light and wants to show
How everything still turns to gold.
And if you listen very hard
The tune will come to you at last.
When all are one and one is all
To be a rock and not to roll.

And she's buying the stairway to heaven.



****
And so, with tears streaming down my face too late on a Thursday, I begin the final week. Chicago, snow falling softly outside, lamp posts gently illuminating the streets below, freezing people.
I sit here, watching bad movies on tv, late at night. They came, we watched the game, and now they're gone, begging my presence at a party tomorrow night. I have no interest. Instead, I'll curl up at home and talk to Danny, because lately his voice has been the only one that calms me. I woke up last night, alone, and realized that everything is beginning to come together and fall apart all at once. I'm going ever closer to the thing(s) that mean the most to me, and further apart from the life that I've known.
I'm just at the point in between sleep and dreams.
Home. Danny. Home. Danny. I keep repeating them in my head. Colorado. Denver. Here I come, please.
Ten days.
We did Secret Santa gifts in our room today. I had Gena and Melissa had me. She got me a Long Distance Relationship book, which made me laugh.
Danny has agreed that if we get married, we'll have to take cooking classes. He prefers dessert classes and the idea of microwaveable frozen vegetables, whereas I feel as though it can't be that hard to make chicken dishes and noodle-y things. I burned brats today, and he found that funny. He told me not to worry; he'll cook. He can make: corndogs, hot dogs, frozen pizza, spaghetti. Wow, can't wait. haha, it was the first time I'd laughed all day though, and I appreciated it.
Love, then, love is enough.

The Post-Thanksgiving Update

Perfect snow.
I walked out of class tonight and was greeted by the beautiful sight of falling snowflakes.
Perfect snow, no wind, wet flakes falling down like confetti on the anxious people below. Night is softened by the lights on the trees.
There's nothing like snow and holiday lights, nothing at all.
Things here are being held together simply by will. There is no hope left for bringing things back to where they were; instead, I play the observer and try not to answer their questions about the others.
I have three more days of class left at Loyola, and while I won't miss the institution, I'm going to miss all of the people I've become attached to.
Hunter and Ian came over for Monday Night Football last night, and as they left, Hunter gave me a hug and told me he'd miss me. It's nice to know that there's always something to come back to.
Before I leave, I'd like to go and visit the Peace Garden on the Lake Shore path that winds all the way from the south side of the city to nearly Loyola. On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays when I take the shuttle up to the Lake Shore campus, I always watch, and there, on the trail, just off Lake Shore Drive is a little enclave. I never see anyone there. I once saw a woman, sitting there and doing exactly what I would have been doing, contemplating. I still haven't been there, and it's the one thing that I want to do before I go.
I would also like to see the Bean. It's a work of art originally designed for the opening of Millennium Park and the things that the name implies. It's one of my favorite things in Chicago. (I'm sad that Mom and Grandma didn't get to see it while they were here visiting in October)
Other than that, however, I am only looking forward to being home and seeing the mountains again. This winter is going to be great. Danny wants to go snowboarding with me, which I'm unsure about. He's been snowboarding since he was eight, and I've only been three times in my life. When I told him that I'd be on the bunny hills while he would be doing the blacks and blues, he told me that he'd come with me and help me. Which was cute.

Thanksgiving was nice. Of course, my plans fell through for the actual day, in that between visiting Mom at the hospital and seeing Dad's family, we never made it to Aunt Jan's. Now, I know that it was a disappointment to all, but I also wanted to clarify that we were only going to have been there for about a half an hour, so although I felt bad, I didn't feel as though I missed an entire dinner.
Emma and John liked Danny a lot. Emma kept telling us that we had cooties because we were so in love, which made me smile. We built a city out of the blocks, and the kids kept asking him where to put certain things. We made a little corner of the city for a zoo, which we filled with all the toys that we could find. Emma told Danny that he was "the best skyscraper builder ever," and afterward, he admitted that he loved spending time with them. I got to hold the little one, who just made my whole day. Danny didn't want to hold her because he didn't want to upset her, which made me smile.
The drive up to his parents' house was nice. We had to stop because his windshield fluid was frozen and the windshield was getting dirty. I played the role of mechanic and washed his windows for him while he put in new fluid. It was a very domestic moment for us.
He has been suffering with all of the rain in Portland for the last week, so keep him in your prayers.
My application for Metro is in, and I've spoken with Dairy Queen about getting my job back ($10.50 an hour, hopefully more soon enough.)

That was quite a bit of information for one post, so I'll leave it at that. But I promise I'll begin to discuss the move soon.

Communication 228

I remembered last night at one a.m. Right as I was about to drift off into the first interrupted sleep in about a week, it hit me. Whatever it was that had been bothering me all week. I had known it was something, but I had no idea what. I was cranky and short-tempered, and here was the reason. A 6 page analysis of the Clinton-Lewinsky-Starr scandal. Due at 4 pm today.

But, thanks to my incredible luck and typing skills, I woke up at ten thirty and two hours later am done with searching the archives of TIME magazine, writing about the articles, and critiquing them for my paper.

Now onto the next assignment.
A feature story.

Cancer. Kidneys. Monday. MOM.

When I find myself in times of trouble, mother Mary comes to me,
speaking words of wisdom, let it be.
And in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me,
speaking words of wisdom, let it be.

Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be.
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be.

And when the broken hearted people living in the world agree,
there will be an answer, let it be.
For though they may be parted there is still a chance that they will see,
there will be an answer. let it be.

Let it be, let it be, .....

And when the night is cloudy, there is still a light, that shines on me,
shine until tomorrow, let it be.
I wake up to the sound of music, mother Mary comes to me,
speaking words of wisdom, let it be.

Let it be, let it be, .....

Oregon, Over-sensitive

On the way back from the scenic graveyard, we walk the paths covered in fallen yellow leaves or pine needles through the campus, home. Groups of touring prospective students meander by, their tour guides in sweaters and nice shoes. They walk these paths, only to be met with the screams of crazed college students, begging mercy from their dorm rooms. The laughter of nearby (and probably high) students is audible, and the tour guards look exasperated.
They are trying to change their school's reputation, and the students here are not happy about it. From the ravine that has become known for its tree covered spots, to the steps near the school's most scenic pond, to the passageways in the halls of the school itself, the students are discussing, fiercely, the position that they have found themselves in.
It is something of a wondrous sight, seeing students roused about something.

***

I came back here and the minute I hit the ground, I felt it. I felt it come in waves, hitting me harder than I thought it would. It felt like something was weighing me down, and I feel it now. For a second there, in Oregon, snuggled in warm and comfortable, I could breathe.
Maybe that's all love is about, someone else to help you breathe.
He helps me breathe.


But now I'm crying. And I can't stop. I'm emotional. There's someone else sleeping in my bedroom, in the space I've come to call my own.

****

I've had twenty four hours to revive myself, and instead of feeling refreshed, I feel worse. My eyes are heavy, having released into the world so much pain last night, they themselves are feeling it now.
My decision, brewing for so long somewhere between my heart and my brain, is tentatively made. We were lounging, in the little space between the wall and the curtain that is the twin bed, and he touched his finger to my breastbone. I had been going through the list of pros and cons again, and again, more than he ever wanted to hear. "What does your heart say?" he asked me. "That's the answer."
So I have the answer, and I'm keeping it for now, because the minute it passes my lips, the madness begins all over again. It's painfully obvious, of course, and I am contented knowing that my days are numbered here. I tried. I failed, but I'm leaving remotely dignified.
The creature sleeping on the other side of the partition constructed out of cheap desks and chair is the thing that thrust my decision forward for me. I was waiting, waiting for something to show me what I wanted, and now that I've been from breathing uninhibited to wondering if I should sleep on the couch, I know. She's not mean, just a little more than I can handle right now. She took over the room while I was gone, literally, leaving me with probably thirty percent of the space. And the bathroom too. All orange and strange. There are flowers in a vase sitting on the back of my toilet now, and a little can of spray air freshener, and this one kills me, but a little trashcan shaped like a pig. If that doesn't clue you in, let me tell you that she took down one of my posters, and that she talks very loudly.
I know, you're thinking, Katie, give her time, things will be fine.
But I have a feeling. And I go with that. I never disliked Melissa and Gena, and even though we've had our fair share of incidents and moments when things got out of hand, I never felt the way I feel now.
Also, I have no window.

****

Sunday morning, I was flying around Danny's room trying to pack all of my things and somehow compress them into the little suitcase I had brought. (I went four days with nothing but a carry-on that wasn't even all the way full!) He sat perched on his bed, tears sliding out of his silent eyes, scribbling something in his notebook. I checked the clock. Three minutes until we had to leave. I grabbed my stuff, my computer and phone chargers, and put them last places. Cell phone, iPod, Colorado driver's license, check.
I looked at him, impatient. He ripped it out. He pulled off all the loose ends. And then he folded it up and put it in my pocket. "Read it on the plane. You'll love it." I laughed. Later, when we were standing outside the airport, as has become our custom, he told me to read it, that he couldn't wait. And I unfolded it and opened it, and there it was, the first love letter he's ever written me.
I started crying. It's adorable when boys pour their hearts out. And when I looked back at him (he was reading it over my shoulder), he was crying too. It was beautiful.

***
I showed him my movie (that you have all seen and loved, I'm sure). I was so excited to show it to him, because it's something that I did, and that I was proud of. I put more work into that thing than I have into anything else all year. And we watched it and cried together (but in a good way).
It's weird, having someone that I depend on and don't fight with ever and enjoy so much. It's like having Katie, but in man form.

***
I'm applying to DU, CSU and other places. I'm not sure yet. If you have any good suggestions, let me know. Maybe Boulder?

****
Speaking of Boulder:

"It's honestly up in the air," he said. (That's the end of the article I read in the Denver Post about Denver's newest marijuana law. Funny how sometimes figures of speech just work out)
hahahaha......never mind, Mom will get why it's funny.



***
I'm trying to convince Mom that she could use marijuana as a way to reduce pain after her surgery. But she does not agree. (I suspect she---and most of my readers and close family----all voted in opposition of the law.) I think we should all make her some pot brownies. Just a thought, since we probably won't get in trouble even if we get caught. Haha, joking. I have no hope of ever persuading anyone that pot won't kill you. (Even though it won't. Trust me, I know people who know people who smoke pot.)

***

***

He loves me.

: )

Sometimes, that's enough.

Oregon Visit #2.......Perfect.

Well, I'm back in Oregon, and for awhile, at least, everything makes sense. I am calm and stress free, and I actually slept through the entire night last night.
The weather is beautiful, all golden sunshine and fall colors. The air smells like real air and not at all like the city, with its pollution and dirt.
He's happy to see me, of course, and our airport greeting was straight out of a romantic movie.
I'm ridiculously happy, curled up comfortable in the place that I have come to love with the person that I love the most.
I haven't thought about the roommate situation, or food for our place, or next semester at all. I've been relaxing and it's wonderful.
Finally, everything makes sense.

Oregon Visit Number Two Begins.....

It's been an interesting week.
-I am going to Oregon today! My flight leaves at 6:35 out of Midway, and I'll be in Portland around nine. I am so excited. I think this might be the little vacation that I most definitely needed. He's happy, of course.
-I am getting a new roommate. Since I have that extra bed in my room, it was only a matter of time until they moved someone in, so here goes...Her name is Megan and I Facebook.com stalked her and she seems okay. But I'm still not happy. Since I got the email last night at around 8, I had to rearrange my room and clean it before I went to bed. So, I still haven't packed.
-Emily is for sure moving back her next semester. I still don't know what to do. I more than anything want to come home, so I'm wondering how my feelings will play into this one. Anyway, can't register and I don't really care about that.

Hope all is well. Mom finally got her iron up, so I was happy to hear about that.
We've started separating our food between all three of us in order to curb her eating habits. It's working, so far. I bought a whole box of Trix cereal with the money Dad gave me, and it's all mine!
Yay!
Anyway, love from (almost) Oregon!!!!!

November brings change....

As soon as I told her, she said she was coming back. My decision was thrown off once again. I can't stay for her, but at the back of my mind, I wonder if at least it would be bearable.
And bearable looks better on transcripts.
After I talked to Mom, in circles, as usual, I cried at Friday night television. The show, Scrubs, a comedy, portrayed a dying woman and the doctor who was upset and afraid for her to die. He made her a list of all the things that he wanted her to do before she died. She told him she'd done all of those and then told him to take some time for himself.
And that's when it hit me.
I want to come home.
I read all of my archives, of this blog and my others, and I realize that they convey a large sense of discomfort. And I am a natural complainer, but not usually about things like this. I feel like my own soul is begging to leave here, and my writing displays that.
So,
I know where I want to be, and I know where I should be, and those are two very different places.
I think that I will know as soon as I have seen Denver once again.
I'm leaving for Oregon on Wednesday, and until then, I am focusing on staying the course. I asked Danny, just as I asked Mom, and he told me that whatever choice I made was the right choice.
I almost want someone to tell me exactly what to do. But then again, it's not like I'd listen to them.

Insomnia

A sort of insomnia has claimed my night. Sitting in bed, laying next to the teddy bear I've loved since I was little, a penny to remind me of him, and my phone, of course. Sex and the City playing on my tv. Season five, Carrie dates the city the whole time.
My mom didn't want me to take Buddy with me when I went to Chicago, but now that I have him, I am realizing that there is a point at which the teddy bear you've loved since forever has to go. And I will never reach it. I told him that Buddy was falling apart, and he told me he'd buy me a new one. That's the thing, though, nothing can replace him, not ever. He's the grossly gray, ripped and see-through love of my life. He's here with me, he smells like home, and I love him. And if he buys me a new one, I'll add him him next to my other pillows, but he won't ever be Buddy. Maybe.
I also can't wait. Nine days until Oregon. I've been sitting here lately, contemplating my life, reading old issues of Cosmopolitan, thinking about him. And me. And where we're going. I've done the lists, of pros and cons, added them up, weighed risks and counted my options. And after all of that, I'm not done yet. I'm going to give this my all.
Low battery.
Too much thinking and not nearly enough thought.
But...before I go, I will add to my strange new optimistic outlook on love.
Don't judge me. You were in love once. Or maybe you still are.


Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.
~William Shakespeare, Mid-Summer Night's Dream, 1595



Life has taught us that love does not consist in gazing at each other but in looking outward together in the same direction. ~Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Wind, Sand and Stars, 1939, translated from French by Lewis Galantière


We loved with a love that was more than love. ~Edgar Allan Poe


Goodnight, moon.

Leaving.

The city has a pulse of its own. There is no explaining the rush, the way things move, the way that everything is so close, packed in, on top of everything. The faces, so close together, yet anonymous. A girl sits on the train, sick, and then man across from her hands her a bag. They do not speak. Her unspoken gratitude hangs in the air, dispersed with the opening of the trains and the influx of new people, dressed in costumes. Cars pass me as I walk down the street, blaring music, yelling, loving Saturday night.
I love the quick rush, but more than that, I love the splash of the water against the concrete that separates the city from the lake. I love the way it hits the beaches, little waves onto a little beach. I love the way that you can see the sky from there, green grass and trees. Somewhere, along that path that leads to peace and everywhere, there is a Peace Garden. I'll never get to it, but I want to. Something made it catch my attention from the road, a small enclave in the middle of such a busy world.
I am not happy unless I'm near the lake, and I realize that I cannot live there forever. I cannot spend my winter huddled in the Peace Garden, I cannot wait for spring on the path, watching the waves and the lake turn gray against the sky.
I am coming home. It's been long enough. I'm giving up Chicago, the lake, and the red line so that I can be happy.
August seems so long ago, it's been a long time since. It's not him, I know that's your first thought. He's fine, we're fine. I'm tired, always, about to be left alone with an alcoholic-depressive for spring semester. I won't be alright, if I have to do that. I've been slipping back into it for two months. I didn't think that it would ever happen again, not to me. I'm more detached than ever. I am numb, angry for no reason, unhealthy. Depression, while I live in prime real estate. Who would have thought.
When I called her to tell her what I wanted to do, and for the first time, as I discussed all of the options and weighed them out in my head, I felt something. I felt happy, sort of. Relieved. Lighter.
I miss the mountains.
Emily can't come back. I'll wilt.
I have nothing left to write. I sit down and my mind is blank. I think all the time, it never shuts off. I'm worrying about a million different things, about everything, about Mom, Danny, Katie, Mike, cancer, life, careers, schoolwork.....It never stops. I'm more alone than ever, and I'm surrounded on all sides by people. I don't want to know the people that I do, I make excuses not to hang out.
I'm taking spring semester off, sort of. I'll be living at home, working, and going to school. But just Metro, to keep my brain working, and to not waste money. Applications are going out, to schools, begging acceptance. They'll respond, and my life will continue. I'm not quitting college, I'm adjusting.
Don't say anything. Just realize that no education is worth losing your sanity for. Loyola soon will be nothing but a memory, a past life, and I can settle down and sleep, and breathe. Breathe.
I just want to feel okay again.
I love Chicago. But I love Denver more.

Project

After spending 8 hours clipping, picking, rearranging, organizing, and fiddling, I have finally produced this masterpiece (and I only say masterpiece because I rarely try this hard at anything....and for having no idea what I was doing, I think I did well).

Mumu, when you go to watch it, click on the box (instead of the little "play" symbol in the middle of it) and then once you're at the YouTube site, you can make it full screen. Turn up your speakers, there's pretty music too. There's a little box on the bottom that if you click it will make it full screen. Good luck! (and let me know what you think....he still hasn't seen it. I'm waiting until I go to Oregon to show him)

For your viewing pleasure, I present: Love, or something like it

Quickly

I made a movie this morning. I'll show you all at Thanksgiving. It's a compilation of my pictures and I'm going to show Danny on my next visit.
Surgery has been scheduled!
Relief.
Journey today to get stuff out of storage.

Love

There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.
-Friedrich Nietzsche

Love is everything it's cracked up to be…It really is worth fighting for, being brave for, risking everything for.
-Erica Jong

In between sleep

Strange dreams have plagued my sleep the past nights.
I am not sure why, and it's overflowing into my waking moments.
I am worried, about him and her, the closest people to me.
I am on guard, constantly, hovering between the edge of anxiety and a perfect calm.
Moods are mellow, there is no joy, no pain.
Only the constant reminder of the future stays my course,
drawing my attention elsewhere.
What good is anything if you're not really there? If you pay no notice to the present?
If you can't concentrate? If you don't know anything, can't process anything, can't think of anything else but everything flowing through your mind at once?

Playing with makeup and the Halloween party.

We played with makeup one night....this is what happened.

Pre-Halloween and final Oregon pictures.

Saturday night was the pre-halloween party at Melissa's friend Kaylie's house at Illinois State University, which is a two hour car ride from Chicago. I dressed as Snow White and spent the better part of the night drifting between people that I knew, making the required small talk. I went outside, to talk to Danny for a little while and get some air, and then ended up having an actual conversation. Another party, another set of faces, and back again. It was enjoyable, but not overly stimulating.
I jumped on the trampoline at Melissa's house today with her and Bobby and her 8 year old brother. That's the one thing I was never allowed to have as a child, and the one thing I always wanted. Relaxing into the couch, curling up with football and a golden retriever, and a home-cooked meal. The drive back, eventually, and the weekend ended.
It's back to the grind again.
The pictures: all of us at Kaylie's; me and kaylie; melissa decided to give me a piggy back ride (at that point i had ditched my cute but painful shoes and slipped into my new favorites.....); Danny and I in Oregon, being young and in love.


Time melds as days turn into nights and then swiftly into days again. Lists and agendas pile up, good intentions never quite turned into actions. Clutter, so carefully attended to for such a long time, piles now, in places most awkward and obvious. THe desk, a dumping ground for paper products: receipts, art supplies, notebooks, textbooks that should have been opened nightly for the past two months. The floor, a collection of dirty laundry and clean, socks, mittens, a duffel bag, the Communist Manifesto. Pictures adorn the walls, models, friends, impressionists, photographs. There is no theme, no rhyme nor reason to the rooms. Now that fall is official, there are Halloween decorations, borrowed from parents whose lives are already set.
It is a question, hanging there, waiting to be answered.
It is the silence that follows, in the moments where one is unsure of what to say, or how to respond.
It is the deafening, the slow quiet in the room.
It is time to explode, to begin, to renew, to live.
She offended me, today, telling me I have nothing to worry about. I laughed it off then, standing at the check-in desk, waiting to let her into the building, but I wanted to tell her that sometimes things aren't what they seem. Set into life, she has it easy. The endless stream of bills is constant. The mortgage payment doesn't change. Her husband's eyes don't wander, her children are safe and happy. She has a career, a path, and I'd assume goals.
I stand on the edge of everything. Of staying, of leaving, of wanting to do what I love and loving to do what I want. I'm confused. I'm thrown and tossed a million different directions, caught between the two cities that I've grown to love and the people that I've become attached to. Every time someone says I'm too young, that I don't know what I'm doing, I become more resolute. Life, to me at least, isn't about doing what you should do, or what will lead to a standard life. I want to follow my heart, and if that leads me somewhere incorrect, then I'll laugh about it, say I made a mistake and keep going. There are times I just want to run away from here, and not look back. I'd pack a duffel bag, taking Buddy and my Winnie the Pooh comforter that I just can't get rid of, and some t-shirts and my clogs and just get away from here. I'd sell my books for plane tickets, and run to him and let him hold me against his shoulder and tell me everything will be alright. Or I'd run somewhere else, and get a job, or a little cottage by a lake somewhere, and spend hours working on the masterpiece that is daily edging itself into my brain. But not much, so don't start holding your breath yet. I want to be happy. I want to experience everything. I want to move around and not settle down. Something happened in me this summer, a sort of yearning for comfort. I no longer want my heart to be broken in one of those heated arguments; I don't want to be with someone just because I think I have to, that I need the practice. I want what I have, right now. It's not that far-fetched of an idea, really. And today, for some reason, we decided, was going to be the day. 3 months, then, we are into this endeavor and I have not wavered in my opinion. If anything, it gets stronger every day. There is a connection there, the sort of thing that I never expected to find.
My clock has been blinking in a strange way, as though the power was turned off, since I got back from Oregon. And every night, I stare at it. I'm beginning to read it as though it was an actual clock. It's only fifty minutes off, so I just sort of do the math in my mind. I don't change it. I wonder how long it will take.
I'm consumed by thoughts of everything. Of worry for the safety of the one person I could never lose, of the success of the procedure people I don't trust are about to embark on. I worry about him, always, just as much as he worries about me. I think about scenarios, I run them through my head. I play with the future, with ideas, places, people, life.
Australia, I think. Maybe.

You never can keep the beautiful feeling for too long.
News this morning broke my heart.
I'll be back home soon to take care of things.
If things get bad enough, I'll stay for longer.
I don't even know what to do.
There is nothing to do, but wait.
He was brokenhearted too at the news.
I made her promise everything would be okay.
She did, but it took her too long.
I'm scared.
I cried for too long.
I couldn't breathe. It was one of those.
Make it okay, please.
I don't pray, but I might start.
I told Katie, and she cried.

Fall Break: Portland, Oregon

It's even greener out here than I expected. As midnight pushed toward morning late Thursday, I came up with an idea that sounded crazy at the time but actually worked out for the better. My flights from Chicago to Denver to Portland were scheduled to commence at 7pm Friday, thus allowing me to attend classes. However, one class was canceled, and since I was only missing two, I figured why not try and get on an earlier flight. The first one to leave Chicago Midway is at 6, and so as dawn crept up on the sleeping city, I was hurtling under State Street in a train bound for the airport. I stood on the outdoor platform of the second train, counting seconds, listening to music not meant for 4:30 am, anything to stay awake.
I made it! The first flight was nice; I sat in the aisle of the first row, which means leg room! There was a lesbian couple next to me attending a wedding in Denver, so we talked for awhile, and then eventually I passed out in my typical plane-sleep position. My head was on my knees, and so the couple next to me thought I was getting sick and tried to help me.
The next flight was sort of successful as well. It didn't strike me as early, even though it was only 8 in the morning. We sat on the runway for the better part of an hour, me stuck between a thin lady and a huge smelly man who kept talking to me. I hate forced airplane conversations with a passion. I mean, it's nice to talk and all, but it's not an inquisition and no I don't care if your daughter has her own business!
Danny met me at the airport. I was a little worried I would walk right past him in the airport, but I most definitely did not. He hugged me, and we stayed that way for a minute as people flowed around us. It was perfect.
They have their version of the Light Rail here. It's smoother than the El, and more like the Light Rail. We rode that from the airport to downtown Portland and then got on a bus to his school. It's beautiful. It's like something out of a fantasy novel. Green grass, trees, little muddy enclaves for students to disappear into. It's wonderful, hilly and damp, green turning to orange and red, overcast skies shedding gray light. At times, when the sun comes out, the forests sort of glisten.
We spent Friday meeting his friends. They are very nice. That was inadequate. I've been typing the same sentence now for at least two minutes because I'm not sure what to say. They're fun. It's been such a perfect long weekend.
Adventure on the way to the hotel. Cab ride, train, and finally the hotel itself. Let me say, you get what you pay for. It was like being back in the 70s. Literally. I think parts of that room were around then, maybe. The V-chip was set so that we couldn't watch any G rated tv, so we missed some great stuff on Animal Planet and Discovery. I'm not even kidding. We did get to see Meekat Manor, though, and our favorite meerkat died. That was sad. And then I fell asleep.
Saturday we just laid around and watched tv. I wanted to take a bath but then realized there was absolutely no way that was going to happen.
It's been so wonderful. I'm so much more comfortable with being away from him, now, I think, but time will iron that out.
Tuesday morning, we cried our eyes out on the way to the airport. Once we got there, we stood there crying against each other's necks for a good ten minutes. Finally, I realized I should probably check in and then we'd have more time to just sit and say goodbye. He walked with me up to the counter, and once I got there, the man couldn't find my reservation. I was sure I bought the tickets, so once he found it, he looked at me and said: "you're not supposed to be here." I was like, well, why not? and he said: "your flight isn't until tomorrow. there's no way you're going to be able to get out of here today."
danny kissed me right then, and picked me up and swung me around. The man at the counter seemed relieved that I wasn't sad. I looked at him and said "this is the best news I've heard all day."
So we went back to Lewis and Clark.
On Saturday night, a woman came up to us in a pizza restaurant. She had talked to Danny for a minute previously, and she introduced herself. She said was "Vickie, I'm no one" and then proceeded to tell me that I was absolutely beautiful and that we seemed happy. Then, as she was leaving, she tapped Danny on the knee and said, "count your lucky stars hippie boy."
And then, oddly enough, the next day on the bus, a man shook Danny's hand and told him that we were a cute couple.
He took me for walks through the forest, and down this beautiful path, and to the reflecting pool. The day that I was supposed to leave, but didn't, Mount Hood was remarkably clear. It was ringed with clouds; they just seemed to part around it, like some sort of purple and yellow halo. I tried to take pictures, but Danny didn't have his camera, so we had to use my camera phone one.
I'll post them, eventually.
The campus is beautiful. Everyone there is so nice and laid back. It's nothing like Chicago, at all. There are no blond girls with big boobs. Everyone is doing their own thing. One day, we went through some trees on the other side of a lawn, and walked up some stairs into them. Inside, it was like another world. We were surrounded on both sides by trees, but there was a path through it. We got to a clearing, where the sunlight could get in and the branches made natural sitting spots. I looked back, where we had come from, and saw that it was a singular path leading out of the trees. It is beautiful. The trees are starting to change colors, going from delicious green to a nice rusty red and yellow.
I was worried about this whole relationship on Thursday. I was freaking out that he didn't love me for some reason. I was nervous, I think, to meet his friends and see the people who get to see him everyday and now I think I'm okay with that. I am much calmer about things.
This is something weird. This feeling is the kind of feeling that people only get in movies. We're in sync with every aspect of everything. We both think about the future. He makes me laugh. He thinks I'm cute and funny and smart. (He told me.) He kisses my forehead, and then each of my cheeks, and then the tip of my nose every morning.
We sat in his room watching a movie one day and it just turned into us laying there laughing and talking. I miss that.
I met all of his friends, and got along with most of them. I had so much fun. His roommate, eh, not so much. He's passive aggressive and sort of annoying. He was most definitely not happy about me being there, and especially not when I told him I was staying one more night.
But I haven't been this happy since I left for school. Everything sort of fits into place again. This morning was horrible, especially. When we woke up, it sort of hit me. He was crying before we even left. I was packing, and I looked up, and he wasn't looking at me. I looked and saw tears.
It killed me. I started crying, too.
I'm not spending any money this month so we can split plane tickets so we don't have to spend 44 days apart. It just hurts too much. We agree.
Yay! I didn't think this would work. And it is. We're good. I was reassured this weekend. It was like we'd never been apart.
Pictures up soon!
This was updated Wednesday night. Late.

The Chicago Visit....

It went well. I had fun. Homework calls though, now. A real update later.

Babies!

I am going to see Sarah's baby today! I can't wait. The train ride will be an hour out and then an hour back in, and it will most definitely involve a time crunch, because I don't get out of class until 3:35, I'll catch the shuttle at 3:50. The train leaves at 4:44, so with any luck, I'll be there on time.
Emma Rae Lavery is 7 lbs, 14 ounces and she's beautiful. I spent so much time watching Sarah grow into a mother last year. I remember when she first started showing, I remember sitting through morning sickness, and this is the final product, a beautiful baby girl.
I love babies.

This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath,
May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.

William Shakespeare

My Next Story.

A detective who handled the case was shocked to see a juvenile who was convicted of armed robbery and placed under house arrest playing on the high school football team.
Detective Larry Chevez was attending his son’s football game at Kennedy High School last Saturday when he noticed a 16-year-old youth that he arrested several months prior playing on the opposing team. “I was amazed to see someone charged with an armed robbery with a handgun playing on the field,” Chevez said today.
The youth was charged with armed robbery of a pizza delivery woman and released from a juvenile detention facility and subsequently placed under house arrest. He was ordered by a judge not to leave his house except to attend school and is monitored by an electronic bracelet that was attached to his ankle.
He plays for the Colonial High School football team, coached by Tony Guarino, who gave an exclusive interview today. “We just taped the bracelet up real good,” he said, acknowledging that he is aware of the youth’s house arrest and constant monitoring. School superintendent Gary Hubbard addressed the issue by saying that juveniles under home detention are allowed to participate in school functions, adding that students are not always suspended for crimes committed off campus.


Once again, these are all fake stories, put into my textbook by means of a paragraph of information, and then I turned it into this. My teacher read it today and asked me if I had any prior experience and when I told her I didn't, she told me that I have a knack for writing the news.
Yay!

September at the Beach.

I brought a long curtain, and laid it out on the beach. They set down their stuff, backpacks, shoes, and they left with their roller blades to go along the lake. I sat in my swimsuit in the oddly warm September air, and let the sun wash over me. I walked up to the water, and walked in up to knees, finding it too cold to actually swim in. As the sun faded into shadow behind the buildings, I watched the people around me. A little girl pulling a makeshift kite behind her. She was skinny, like little kids are, running back and forth between the edge of the lake and her mother, sitting in a beach chair a little ways away. Two men, laying on a blanket, enjoying the sun and obviously their mutual adoration of each other. A man in a thong, super toned and tan, actually jumping into the lake and swimming out to the orange and white buoys that mark the end of the pedestrian swimming area. I pulled my book out and read, uninterrupted, for the first time since I've been here. I took a picture of the sand, the city and the lake and sent it to him. It was nice to lay there, and to talk to him and to read and to watch everyone. When they came back, the sun had almost gone down and there was a little bit of a chill in the air.
And I finally slept well, for the first time in awhile.
He had a nightmare about me, and I felt bad, because I've been upset lately before I go to sleep and last night we talked for an hour before bed and we laughed and it was like we were hanging out again. As soon as I hung up the phone, I slipped into a peaceful sleep, and didn't wake up until six. And then again at ten.
Fifteen days. I called and made sure that my miles were going to count for that trip. I'm excited, because he's going to come out for last week of his winter break, maybe. I've been planning ahead, lately.

My Very First News Story. Sort of.

Well, here it is: It's fake. And I only had limited details to work with, but here's my final draft of a news article. Ah! Sort of exciting.

A 9-year-old Rockford resident’s challenge of a decision to close her roadside business led to victory today, allowing her to reopen her lemonade stand after it was shut down yesterday. A city code enforcement officer stopped by Stephanie Courhesne’s lemonade stand and forced her to pack up her things yesterday afternoon.
Stephanie’s father called city councilman Alyce Cycler to complain immediately. The councilwoman promised to have the issue resolved immediately and today, the code enforcement supervisor overruled the original decision.
After hearing about the decision, the mayor announced that she intends to become a regular customer of the lemonade stand, located on Highland Drive.

Stephanie Courhesne sets up her roadside lemonade stand outsider her home at 1186 N. Highland under the supervision of her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Adolph Courhesne. On weekends during the summer months, Stephanie charges a quarter for a cup of lemonade and a dime for a cup of water.
Her business is successful, bringing in about $3 to $5 a day, sometimes more when the weather is nicer. Stephanie must reimburse her mother for the cost of goods, but after that, she divides her profits between personal interest and her church. Ten percent of her profits go to the church; another ten percent goes into savings, and the rest is hers to spend “to buy toys, clothes, candy, and stuff.”
After she was noticed by a city code enforcement officer yesterday, she was forced to pack up her stand and take her cups, cooler, cardboard sign, and umbrella inside. Her father was upset, and after complaining to city councilman Alyce Cycler, the issue was resolved in less than twenty four hours.
The city code enforcement officer’s supervisor overruled the original decision and said that it was an error in judgement and also that Stephanie is welcome to sell as much lemonade as she can.
Stephanie’s lemonade stand is in a perfect spot, because Highland Drive is a popular place for people to jog, roller skate and walk near Lake Clarity.

Boston Legal

and to cap off my better night:

James Spader won an Emmy for best actor in Boston Legal.

I don't even know what it is about him, but James Spader....yum.

Countdown continues....

First off, happy birthday Aunt Joan! I hope you have had a wonderful birthday, and will have a wonderful year.
Secondly, in 18 days, I'll be in Oregon. And I cannot wait. This is insane. I've never been so happy. And he's 2,000 miles away. We're getting through it, though, so that makes me feel as though this year will fly by and then we'll have three months to see each other everyday next summer. It's not at all like my last long distance relationship, where I was basically single the entire time. We see eye to eye on almost everything, he listens to what I have to say, we don't fight, and if we do have an argument, he calms me down and then we talk it out. Strange, I know.
I'm keeping all major Jewish holidays this year. I explored a little bit of Judaism second semester of last year. I went to services, plays, and met a considerable amount of nice people. So next weekend is Yom Kippur, and I'll be fasting for 25 hours. I will allow myself water, though, because since I'm not technically Jewish I can make my own rules. My friend Becky is actually Jewish, so it'll be nice to have someone to guide me through my quest for religion.
Emily Bates, from St. Louis, came up to visit me this weekend and brought some of my stuff with her. It was fun, but a little strange, because her name is still on the door, as though she should have moved in.
In our crazy last few weeks in Colorado, we foolishly overlooked the two hour time difference and how it would affect our life. It's weird, but so worth it. I wake up to his text messages and I fall asleep to his voice, and my obsession is completely returned by someone who's not a no-good white-rapper-wannabe. It's nice because he's actually in college, learning things, and getting out and meeting people.
He'd be so mad if he knew I was typing this, but one of the last days that I was in town, we were having a picnic in the park, spending the afternoon sprawled out in the grass with just each other, and that's when it hit me that I wouldn't be able to do that anymore. My head was turned away from him, and so when I suddenly got silent, he knew, but wasn't sure. I saw the grass and the sunshine and I just lost it. He asked me what was wrong, and once I knew I had to answer, I started crying. He let me cry for awhile, telling me all the things he knew I needed to hear, and when I finally looked up, there were tears in eyes too. When it was time to go, we just got up, and left. It was the second most beautiful afternoon of my summer.
Mike likes him. I like that. Mike is very protective of me. I can't even wait to see Fruitypants in Chicago!!! Maybe it will kick-start his college application process. But even if it doesn't, it's weird not having Mike around. We're completely different, that much is painfully obvious, but him and I are still super close. We get each other, even though we definitely didn't hang out enough this summer, him and I are still playing the games we used to play over the dinner table when we were twelve.
I know, you're all sick of hearing about young love, but I'm ridiculously happy. And you have to read about it.

9/11 and birthdays

Where we you?
I was in the bathtub, in Dad's first apartment after the divorce. I was annoyed when Dad yelled through the door that he was turning on my tv because something had happened on the news. I got out, and then walked into my bedroom and stared. The tv was on top of my dresser, the blond one I'd had since I was a kid. It was set to images of the two large buildings in New York. One of them had flames shooting out the side. And all of a sudden, as I was watching, something flew into the screen and hit the other building. More flames, falling debris.
And then it hit them. Something bigger was happening. Not an accident, a plan.
September 11th wasn't all bad. Two very important people were born that day. Emma and John are six today. Little babies who didn't know what was happening to the rest of the world were in their own fight for survival. They'll hear about it, and they'll understand, eventually. They'll see that somehow they emerged from that day as a sign of hope for the people who knew them, or who knew of them. Even though they are separate from the events that took place, they will always be associated with that day. It's the circle of life: death and then birth. Or rather, birth, and then death. But it's not quite that simple. It's hope, and pain, and beauty, and the fight for something as important as life.
So Happy Tuesday. May you see beauty somewhere in the world today.

Strep. Want some? It's going around.

Fall is coming. And so is Emily. She'll be here on Friday! I can't even wait.
And then, of course, I only have a week after that until Mumu, Fruitypants, Aunt Sally and Grandma Mary get here.
And then after that, fall break and Oregon and Danny.
It's going to be a great September and beginning of October.
I talked to Mike. He's excited to come. Wants to do something exciting. I told him there was nothing he could do in Chicago that would be exciting. We'll see.
Ah, the Wellness Center.
I will never appreciate what they do for all of the students of Loyola. My roommate, bearing swollen lymph nodes in her neck, a sore throat that looked nasty, even from my vantage point (which didn't include the usual light and popsicle stick check), and a voice that would make a volverine purr with pain, went off to the Wellness Center only to be told that she was fine.
It's strep.
I am currently debating even going back and asking for a strep test. I went last Thursday with a sore throat, and a cough that included both blood and green stuff, only to be told it was merely a cold and my lungs sounded clear. No strep test.
I'll make an appoinment tomorrow afternoon.
Someone should say something to them about how inadequate they are. How hard is it, really? I used Steve last year as my "doctor," since he is pre-med and probably knows more than they do. In fact, I always feel like he'll at least offer you an answer instead of the usual cough drop and absolutely nothing you get there.
And don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those crazed college students you hear about faking illness for drugs. I don't think that any ailment can be solved with a prescription. I prefer not to put artificial medicines into my body, but when it's strep, or something like that, I'm all about proper treatment. Especially because it's such a contagious illness and I live in such close quarters with people.
Ah, such is life.
I need to get a doctor out here.
I love Danny. He stayed in last night so we could talk on the phone, and it's wonderful. He wakes me up each morning (just like he used to do in the summer) with a cute text message that completely energizes my morning.
Steve and I might look into yoga.
I've been getting very domestic lately. You should have seen the homemade pizza I made. I kneaded the dough, let it rise, formed it and voila! Pizza crust. Then sauce, cheese, veggies, meat. Bake. Food. Everyone liked it.
I do dishes. I clean the house. I whipped out my "Mom-Voice" on my roommate's boyfriend completely accidentally. He was like, "Katie, you sound like my mom." Ah. Wow.
I just realized that I don't really know what I want to do with my life except write. And suddenly, everything else is less appealing than usual. So I think I will just become a writer and then not worry about having an actual career. Because the 9 to 5 won't make me happy. Did it work for any of you? I don't want to wake up one day and realize that I never did anything I wanted to because I was worried about attaining status or making money (but then again, I'll probably wish I had). So we'll see.
I did write a sweet lead for a story in one of my Journalism classes. It had to be no more than 25 words, and while the rest of the class labored over it for quite some time, I had 21 words in less than 30 seconds. So, see, I'm not bad at this.

Countdown begins....

26 days until fall break! Oregon, here I come.
Yeah, we're counting, we know. It's lame. But how many times in my life will I be able to say that I've flown cross country for love?
Drama exploded here this weekend, but on the whole it was laid back.
Nice discussions with both Katie and Danny. Katie's sort of significant other, Ben, asked her when she was going to grow out of our friendship. Wow. Katie has been my other since freshman year of high school. We did the long distance relationship through freshman year, and got even closer, if that's possible, this summer. I wouldn't be able to survive if I didn't know that she will always be there for me. My wall is covered in pictures of Katie, Colorado, and Danny. But mostly Katie. And Colorado. Don't ever underestimate between best friends. Especially not the Katies.
Emily from Denver came this weekend, bringing her roommate unexpectedly, which caused disastrous results. And I am $17 poorer as a result of her inability to navigate city streets and find a parking spot.
However, things have continued. I got into a fight defending gay rights with someone's roommate, which ended in me walking out after I asked him to please not use the word "hate." He refused. I don't stand for that. As a woman, I know what it's like to be ogled and objectified, so when he told me he had that experience ONCE in his life and, as a result, "hates gays," I fought back. It was ridiculous. Some people are so ignorant and disrespectful.
Ah, well, getting a little chillier here.

Chinese water torture

As of sometime yesterday, my shower will not stop dripping. Hot water is contantly (and I mean a small but constant stream) falling out. Not little drops, occasionally. I don't know what to do. I mean, I guess I should TMA it. TMA (I have no idea what it stands for....the maintenance association?) is Loyola's little way of helping a student out. But do they ever come and fix the problem? Probably not. Any ideas? Plumbing fixes? Grrrr........if I leave the bathroom door closed, the constant stream of hot water warms my bathroom way too much, but if I open the door, I hear it.
.....
....
....
....
....
it's like that, sort of. Un-ending.
Got heated in Journalism class today. Not only was the classroom hotter than 90 degrees, but I shared my opinion on a document release that was not met well by the professor. I am worried that she may feel as though I was irreverant, but I asked a fellow student and they told me I was fine. However, it was merely a disagreement, and a sharing of opinon. We were essentially saying the same thing, but I was pushing for citizens to remember that this is a democracy, and that the majority vote does tend to rule.
I was sitting there, in my two and a half hours of ninety plus degree hell, when I feel my phone vibrate. (Of course I'd feel it, even when it has to be silent, it's never more than three feet from me.) A text message: "Hey, just in case you wondered, I am kind of madly in love with you." And so of course my whole day got a little brighter.

September Commences.

Ah, Labor Day weekend. Festive, of course. Friday night, spent with Maddie (from Colorado) and her boyfriend. Saturday night spent with Melissa, my roommate, and her boyfriend Bobby at his new place. The University Center is home to dorms for Columbia, Roosevelt, and DePaul. His roommates are quiet, studious, and definitely not into loud noises and fun. Sunday night, I went to my friend Hunter's for his housewarming party and his roommate Ian's 21st birthday. It was so good to see everyone again, and it was definitely a weird experience to see him and his ex-girlfriend with their new significant others. People tell me I'm glowing with happiness these days, but I think I just purposely act happier in public than I am. No, that's a lie, I really do glow sometimes. I have my plane tickets to go out to Oregon for fall break! (Thirty days.)

Yesterday, I went to the beach with Melissa and Bobby and we played in the lake and buried each other in sand and it was probably the best day I've spent here yet. Four blocks from my dorm, there is a beach. It's amazing. I just walk up Michigan Ave and I'm there. My camera currently has sand in it, but the lens does come out most of the way, so I'm sure it's just a matter of time before it's up and running again. I hope. We came back and we all made dinner together. Spaghetti and sausage, caesar salad, watergate salad, cheesecake for dessert, garlic bread.

And then the madness continued late into the night.

And we woke up, this morning, and life goes on.

And there's something somewhere that's pulling at me, and I'm not sure what it is. And I know what it's about, and I'm scared, because the feeling is deeper than usual. Fear, jealousy, resentment, hatred. Something, somewhere is stirring that. And it's starting to boil. He means nothing by it, but I feed off it and mull it over in my mind, and suddenly there is nothing there but that. Him and them. Him and her. Nothing. But my jaw is set and my eyes are cold. And there's nothing that will change that, until he realizes that I am not okay.

Gluten glutton

Perhaps I have conquered gluten.
I ate a chocolate cupcake.
Well, half of one.
And then a couple bites of spaghetti.
I am not yet ill.
It has been long enough.
Perhaps, then, I am alright.

Midsummer's Education Nightmare

Introduction to Shakespeare.
I should have known.
Introduction. For people who've never read Shakespeare.
I, on the other hand, have read more Shakespeare than the average person.
The second day of class (the first official day, because we were going over the syllabus the first day), we talked about what it was like during Shakespeare's time. And I don't mean describing the political atmosphere, or the social conditions that the people were forced to live in.
Nope. We talked about what the Renaissance meant. We discussed the fact that it brought about the scientific method, a renewed interest in philosophy, math and science.
Duh.
Everyone from the age of 10 on knows this.
Easy A, I know, but brain torture. I feel dumber already.
I do this. I sign up for classes that sound easy because I'm afraid to actually come across a challenge that I can't meet.
I met this one, though, my junior year of high school.
Shakespeare, I'm so sorry that your work has been dumbed down for college students who never got it in high school.
The teacher, a middle aged man, socially awkward, was asking the class about their anxieties for the semester. (yeah, any professor who brings emotion or fear into the first lesson is going to be a total pushover, even though he wants to pretend he's a hardass.) And as we were talking about maybe not understanding the language (grrr...... it is, after all, English), a book dropped in the hall and he asked the class if we were worried about bullets in the halls. As soon as he said it, he chuckled, and then must have seen the looks on our faces because he immediately corrected himself.
Ah, the glories of the politically correct statement.
Introduction to Shakespeare, here I come.

The downside

Fall break can't come soon enough. Shortly after Mom, Mike, Aunt Sally and Grandma Mary come through Chicago, I hope to be heading off to Oregon to spend a long weekend there.
My stomach has been increasingly more upset lately. I'm never hungry, but I often feel faint or sick. It's as though I need to eat, desperately, and even though I do, it seems like nothing is ever enough. I can't eat much, because if I do, I'll be sick, but I know that I need to eat. It's a difficult situation that I am wondering how to handle. There have been no substances entering my bloodstream via lungs or stomach, and I'm wondering how that is affecting my feelings of illness. Certain things do tend to take away the nausea that I often feel.
I'm sure this cold isn't helping. I feel tired because I am so sick, and I can't kick the cough or the sinus drainage.
Way too much information, I know, but it feels better typing it all out. I know what you're all thinking, "Hey, doesn't Loyola have a Wellness Center?" Yeah, we do, but I am not going. They're going to tell me I have IBS and then give me cough drops. I'll just wait it out.

Address:
26 East Pearson
Box #0601
Chicago, IL 60611
Use my full name: Katherine

Danny and I have been communicating via iChat, which allows us to talk and see each other through our computers. Mom, all you have to do is set up that camera and then get on AOL (so you can Instant Message me) and then send me a video invitation. It works. It's pretty sweet, actually.

I think I'm going to go make some breakfast. I'm not sure that it will help, and I'm nervous that this is going to turn into something worse. Emily was hospitalized last night again for the same reasons as before. Stomach. Stomach. Stomach. And they never find anything, and there's never anything they can do, but she's still really ill. I think it's odd that the two of us are both so sick for no apparent reason all the time, although hers is most definitely more severe.

Adjustments.

The building rises out of the ground, standing among the others, not different, and somehow not the same. 25 stories tall, it is hardly the tallest building around, yet it rises slightly above it's neighbor, the top of it proclaiming it's affiliation for all the world to see. My room is plain, for the moment, white walls and clutter, furniture against most of the walls. Two desks, dressers, beds, chairs and closets. One bathroom. All mine. Shower, only, of course, although since I am alone in this room I would have enjoyed a tub, and been able to make sure it was clean.
Groceries. Gluten free. The words pop out at me from the boxes that line the shelves and I see them, pick them up, and hope that they'll taste even adequate.
I hear his voice in my ear, he's telling me his fears, and I'm unable to comfort him. I told him my story, how even this year, I cried and cried and begged her to take me back with her. He's scared. I'm scared for him.
But here it goes, on and on.
Broken toe. Kicked a couch. Problem. It's purple. First broken bone of my life.
Roommates are awesome. Love them. Thank god.
Classes are not bad either.
Coughing fit in the bookstore. Lawyers. Awkward. The salesclerk handed me a cough drop and it didn't work.
Love.

Chicago, again

As we started saying goodbye, that day edged closer and closer. And then it was pushed off again, distant, and somehow the time started to slip faster. The last week, my last given days in Colorado, went so fast. There was the final show at Red Rocks, planned. There was the one on Wednesday that neither of us were expecting. Katie left last Saturday, and I do regret that I wasn't able to get up to Ft. Collins to see her before I left.

I'm tired. Waking up Friday morning was difficult. The hours slipped by, and tears leaked out every now and then. Stupid things would set me off. He'd tell me he loved me, and I'd lose it. And I thought that nothing could get worse until today. Because it actually hurts. The space where my heart was hurts. My legs, my head, my arms, my back. I am lovesick. The smile was stuck on my face all yesterday. We sat at Stella's. Our first place and our last, memories sliding easily between us. I think of the first night we hung out, the first inside joke. And it kills me. Because I know that no one believes in this. Not many people support our decision to try and stick it out. I've heard the typical "You need to keep your options open." or "Long distance? You're so young." It doesn't matter. Maybe it's because I'm young that I'm open to the possibility of love in the tougher places. I don't know. I'm following what I feel, and I'm usually not wrong.

I miss my mountains. I miss the sunset. I miss Danny.

This may be the beginning of my last semester at Loyola. Either that, or I will finish out the year. But I am keeping other possibilities open, only because I feel that one should not approach higher education with dread. I purely dread going back to my apartment. I dread going to class. I dread eating alone. I dread having to spend Friday and Saturday nights curled up in bed with a book (although for an extended period of time, I would be alright.) I just can't live without my friends. And to those of you who believe in "sticking it out," I'd like to point out that someone like myself, who is shy and has difficulty making friends, has no chance in a place where I do not feel comfortable.

That's that. And I'm going to be happy, whether it's in Chicago, or Denver, or Tahiti, or wherever.

I get pissy when I'm tired. That's a known fact. This morning, I got held up at security because the man in front of me was excited to get to flash his Arapaho County Sheriff's Office badge, and talk about how he had a knife with him. ...Power trips annoy me. We get to our gate, way down the A concourse, and of course, he was on the phone, talking loud enough for the entire waiting area to hear. I was not going to sit around and listen to it, and I know that neither was anyone else. I watched people look at him, and he sat there, oblivious. So I got up. And I called him out for being too loud. At five in the morning. I was very nice about it, and I threw in a nice little hand gesture in case he had any doubts as to my meaning. I lowered my hand as though it was a volume guage, and apparently my mom got a thumbs up from some guy who was watching me do all of this.

we'll talk about the room, the roommates...all of that. later.

August continues

I'm cheating. I'm eating gluten. And it is so good. I got home tonight and cooked one of those single serving party pizzas. And am in the process of eating it. All in all, only a fourth of the crust is actually gone, so I'm sure that I won't be too sick.

It's worth it.

Seriously.

Those are pictures from the Continental Divide one morning when we were driving down from Vail. And then the ones with the rainbows in them are from Red Rocks. Katie and Danny and a couple of our friends and I went to the Slightly Stoopid and G Love show on Friday night. it was absolutely wonderful.

Nothing like the summer to make you fall in love

Well, that was an unexpected summer. I didn't want to come back, not at all, and now I find myself not wanting to leave. I've been saying my goodbyes, slowly but surely. Tonight was hopefully my last shift at Dairy Queen; I walked out with the best feeling in my stomach. I was so sick of it, by the time it ended. We were packed today, with people who thought that they were donating money everytime they bought themselves a four dollar blizzard. But, no, the owners wouldn't allow the money to be donated. Instead, they keep it (because they refuse to participate in the Children's Miracle Day program-thing) and let people think that they are doing some sort of dollar good in the world. And they're not. I carefully step over it in conversation, not denying yet not agreeing to anything.
We're going to try and make it work. We decided that the other night, after we'd realized that something wasn't right. So it's me and him now. And it's wonderful. He finally met Mom. Him and Mike get along. And tonight, him and Katie went to see a show at Red Rocks while I was at work. He's perfectly cute and college bound and more importantly than any of that, he makes me happy. And Mom likes him. Keep your fingers crossed.
I can't leave now. I'm in love.
We drove up to Red Rocks, two sketchy kids in a Lexus, to see the sunrise last weekend. The pictures knocked me back. It was perfect. A spur of the moment decision made after we'd already lost most of the night to conversation. There was a food run, but other than that, we stuck to the routine. He wanted to drive back to St Marys Alice, and thinking of that hike, I suggested Red Rocks instead because I knew that after zero sleep I'd be tired. We went, and stood and watched, and I realized that there is no place more lovely than Colorado. I've never been more content.
I am still waiting on the bloodwork for the gluten allergy. I hope...actually, I'm not sure what I hope. If it's no, than thank god I am not allergic to it, but then what's wrong with me? And if it's yes, which it most likely is going to be, than I can't eat bread. or sandwhiches. Or cookies. Or cereal. Or graham crackers. Or brownies. Or cake. Or crackers. Or certain kinds of ice cream. Or granola bars. Or granola. No pizza. No pasta. Ahhhh......

I'm complaining and I shouldn't be. Chicago is up the air, once again. Dad has offered to drive me, Mom has offered me a plane ticket to St. Louis. I don't know how I'm going to manage getting there, so I think I will try to drive. I move in at 8 am that Monday. Danny offered to drive too, and I think that'd be more fun than any of the other options, but I highly doubt his parents would approve of that.

So we shall see. In the end, it's always what will be that will be.

And so it ends, so soon, already.

The alarm went off at four in the morning, and we pulled ourselves from the places that we had been sleeping. I was wrapped in a blanket, comfortable, having just fallen asleep an hour or so before. We piled into his car, and drove to make it there by sunrise. Past Idaho Springs, a little ways, and then up a winding road. It was cold, the windows were down, and Grateful Dead was playing in the background. We passed the signs: St Marys Alice. We parked and then hiked for longer than I would have liked, but since I was with the boys, I didn't complain and just followed them, up and up the rocks. We watched the sun crest over the mountain and we nestled ourselves onto some sort of rocky ledge. He put his arms around me and kissed my cheek in one of those perfect movie moments. And then we sat, in the cold, and watched him climb up and up the mountain. He yelled my name and waved, and then I realized that this is perfect. It's the perfect end to childhood, to being wild, to exploring and experiencing everything. This summer has been the summer that it should have been. From here comes the unknown, but for now, today, and everyday, it's comfortable and perfect and wonderful. Just like him. And Katie. I felt my eyes water yesterday, nestled into his neck, and even though I tried to smile so he wouldn't find out, I had to turn away and not let him see what I was feeling.

The sunrise pictures are from somewhere on i-70 or pena boulevard on the way to the airport. the rain pictures are off hampden.