On Art. and Expression.

I can never decide what to write when I'm staring at the blank screen. It's so....empty.

Sometimes I want to write what I'm thinking; mostly, I feel the need to catalog my day. It's as though I can tell my state of mind simply by remembering what I did, where I went, what I saw. 

Tonight is a little bit of both. There's so much happening, not happening, swirling around. And there are so many thoughts, too. And a rant, if you're lucky. 

Ike, my cousin in town for the holiday weekend, and I went to the Art Museum today. I spent a lot of time trying to think of something that he might like to do; I didn't want to disappoint him. We had a good time, checking out all of the art as we chatted. As we got back to Grandma's door, we were talking about how we've never hung out as adults (we were born two weeks apart but are separated by so much - experience, space, time, etc). "It's nice to meet you," he said. It's nice to meet you too, Ike. 

Foxes. 

This painting was fabulous, but strange. I liked the way that Ike melded chromatically into it. 

This painting caught my eye. It was painted in 1898, yet the colors are still so vibrant. 

Jesus. 

Lately, I've been hearing a lot of mixed opinions about the fact that I blog so much about my life. First of all, this is hardly scratching the surface. This doesn't serve as a diary. It's not my every thought or feeling. Trust me - what you see is not always what you get here. Sometimes, yes. 

This is my place to collect things. I love reviewing it. Sometimes I'm struck by my insight, other times I disagree with my past self entirely. Sometimes I use this a marker, to see how much I've grown as a person. Sometimes it's just purely nostalgic. To be honest, there are moments when it's downright embarrassing. 

Either way, the same thing holds true now that has always held: If you don't like it, don't read it. There are other blogs. But there are no other Katie Barry's. (Actually, there are. I'm Facebook friends with most - many - of them. They're a fun bunch.) 

I'm going to spare you the rant I'd decided I wanted to throw here. Hopefully when I sleep on it, it will turn into something more beautiful than the angry ball it is right now. It's about honesty. Honesty with yourself and with everyone around you. It's one of the things I value more than anything else in this world. I live by full disclosure (mostly). I believe that the truth of our reality lies in our experiences. If you can come to terms with events and realizations as they occur, you're more able to process, cope, understand. The understanding that comes from honesty beats anything kept hidden by a shroud of secrecy. 

Sleep sweet, world. 

On Simon's Back Bumper

Yesterday, Mom's five-year old neighbor Avery came over.
"Katie," she told me. "Your car is all smashed." (Simon's been lacking his normal duct tape lately. I really do need to do something about this.)
I tell her that it happened a long time ago, when I lived in Chicago.
"You should just take your car back and get a new one," she said.
Good advice.
Too bad the insurance company doesn't see it the same way.

On Pictures from Mom's phone

Assorted pictures from Mom's phone - since it's dying and we had to do a data swap, I ended up with all of them. I thought I'd share a couple with you: 

Grandma Mary and Uncle Mark, Vermont

I so very much love this picture.

Mike and Lola

I have more, but I desperately need to get to a computer charger. So those can come later.

On Tuesday, fondly

Jumbled thoughts, collected below: 

I am pleased to report that I have successfully returned all six books to the Denver Public Library, one day before their due date. No fines! 

Your song for the day is Regina Spektor's Us. I'm starting to get nostalgic - this week last year was the beginning of the end of South Africa. I remember so badly wanting to get out of the tangled mess that was the end, but I knew even then that an impermeable love for that place had settled in my soul. Every time I hear this song, I think about my commute to and from work. It reminds me of the jangle of the chain as I closed the front gate at Priscilla's; the hustle of Wynberg market; the way the street smelled in the morning; the narrow, slanted sidewalks. I wish I had a jar of South African sand. I would open it right now and dig around, letting the sand slip through my fingers. I would think about wine, and the waves, and looming mountains. I would be home. 

I'm happy. I woke up this morning and I was utterly content, all the way to my bones. I didn't want to get up; I didn't want to leave; I just wanted to roll over and shut out the day. I wanted to nuzzle in, close my eyes, and pretend that the alarm wasn't going to ring obnoxiously in another nine minutes. 

But of course it did, as alarms are wont to do. Even though I'm not nesting happily somewhere, there's a constant current running through me. I can dig this. 

It's too bad we couldn't have just ray-gunned the Jackson 5 so they would have stayed in those childhood moments forever. Much better than their later selves, less creepy. 

On Monday, quickly

As a rule the purchase of books is mistaken for the appropriation of their contents.
-Schopenhauer

I found this quote after I'd decided that I'm going to buy everyone I know books for Christmas. Okay, back to square one. 

I love that this is a short week! I'm so frazzled right now, trying to get everything done. M is in town tomorrow night with her boyfriend, P, so I'm going to meet up with her and the family for dinner. I am so excited - I didn't think I was going to be able to see them before they headed up to the mountains for Thanksgiving.

Tonight was supposed to be cleaning night, but instead, it's throw everything around in an attempt to make organization piles. Instead of actually dealing with these piles, I think I'll just leave them and get around to them later, as per usual.
I'm also facing the wrath of Carlos at the moment; I got home and he'd gotten into something he shouldn't have, and consequently, he had to have a bath. Great. Now I have damp cat sitting on everything but his blanket. He's furious at me. Instead, I'm practicing excellent escapism and going out to dinner with K. I think I'm making a much better choice. He's more fun than laundry and wet cat any day. 

On the Weekend

Don't ask. We didn't take any good pictures that night. I tried. But know that these two people are the two most beautiful people I know.  

apparently, I'm too pale for cameras. 

All ages shows make me feel old. 

Friday. Really fun night. The owner of the PS Lounge remembered me and K from last week and bought us drinks while Em and J ate at the Thai place, so that was nice. Then the concert happened. Em and J danced, K and I danced. I was blissfully happy. I love my friends. I love my life.  

Saturday. We ran errands - made a Costco run, ate burritos, washed the car (not mine, of course). I babysat. The little girls are always such a delight. 

Today. Woke up at 5. Made some muffins. Snowboarding with K, K, and E, Friends-giving in the evening. Cranberries turned out alright! 

Can you tell I'm too tired to actually type words? Going to bed early. Going to be a productive human being tomorrow. (maybe)

Day three. We're going to get this by the end of the season, I promise. 

I guess I enjoy standing in front of people and blocking them in pictures. 

Em, K, me, K, day 3, Breckenridge