Denver Easter

I'm coming home tonight!!

also, here is my parking ticket defense. More on that later. I dearly love Hunter but the boy is cursed with parking abilities.

April 9, 2009

To Whom It May Concern:

I am writing to contest a parking ticket received on the morning of April 6, 2009.

The ticket information is as follows: ticket number: 0056324020 15; date and time: April 6, 2009 at 9:50 AM. The ticket is for a violation of street cleaning, 9-64-040 (b) and is a fine of $50.00.

I regret to inform you that I will not be paying the $50.00 and here is why:

The morning of April 6, 2009, I woke up shortly before nine to move my vehicle, a Honda Civic, from where it was parked on N. Magnolia Ave. The west side of the street was decorated with signs indicating that street sweeping was to occur that day, and I wanted to be prudent and avoid a ticket.

I moved it to Ardmore, and looked around for any street cleaning signs. I could see none. There were strings tied to the trees, though, so I assumed that the side of the street that I was putting my car on had been cleaned the day before. Also, most of the block was filled with cars.

There had been a windstorm the night before; I was kept up part of the night by the wind. When I first noticed the ticket, I believed that perhaps the signs had blown off. But then I looked on N. Magnolia, and sure enough, bright signs hung on most of the trees. It was apparent then that something else had removed the signs from the trees.

I will assume that you are going to be receiving many complaints about this particular morning and this particular street simply because there were no street sweeping signs. I was informed by a neighbor that kids have been stealing things off of cars lately, so I will assume that the reason that there were no signs was the result of some foul-play by the children of the neighborhood.

This means that at the time of the “violation,” there was no notice that any of the cars on the block were violating anything. I assure you that had I seen a sign for street sweeping, I would have found another parking spot.

I believe that the third point under acceptable defenses is valid here: · The relevant signs prohibiting or restricting parking were missing or obscured.

The pictures that I have enclosed were taken at approximately 10:00 AM the morning in question, so about 10 minutes after the tickets were issued. The officer was still in the area at the time, issuing other tickets. These pictures also clearly show the street sweeper, so in case the belief is that the pictures were taken after the allotted no parking time, the pictures will prove immediacy.

The pictures are labeled on the back with the ten digit citation number (or perhaps 12, I am including the two zeroes at the beginning just for accuracy) as well as the Exhibit letter to avoid confusion.

Picture number one will be classified as Exhibit A. This picture shows my open car door (far left of the frame) and the tree directly next to it. On the tree, string is visible, but there is not a parking sign attached to it. You’ll also notice the other cars parked in front of me that fill the block. If you’ve ever driven down a street on street sweeping day, you’ve noticed that the street is nearly empty save a few poor souls who have neglected the prominently displayed signs. This street is parked as per usual, as if it were any other normal day. (All of these cars got tickets as well.)

Exhibit B is a close up of a skinny tree further west down the block to show that there were also no signs within reasonable distance of where I parked to inform me that it was street sweeping day. My car is visible in the top left corner of the frame to establish proximity. Notice again the lack of sign.

Exhibit C and D are the same picture, one as a long shot and one as a close-up. The long shot shows the intersection of Ardmore (in the foreground) and Magnolia (running horizontally left to right in the frame). It shows the stop sign and the tree with a string tied around it as well as what was later determined to be a street sweeping sign. It is completely and utterly unreadable. It is extremely difficult to see and is not legible by any means.

Exhibit D is a close up of the crumpled piece of almost cardboard. I certainly cannot read what is contained in that sign. Therefore, once again, · The relevant signs prohibiting or restricting parking were missing or obscured. (Chicago Department of Revenue Website).

Exhibit E is my last picture from the morning of April 6, 2009. It shows my car very clearly (you can read the license plate); it shows the street sweeper in the background (indicating timeliness), and it shows all of the trees lined up down the block. None of them have any signs on them whatsoever.

I hope that I presented compelling evidence as to why I will not be paying the fine for the parking ticket 0056324020 15, issued on April 6, 2009. As I have stated twice before, “The relevant signs prohibiting or restricting parking were missing or obscured.” I have provided evidence to prove that assertion and sincerely hope that you will cancel this parking ticket.

I appreciate you taking the time to read this and look at the pictures that I have provided. I will eagerly await information regarding your judgement.

Have a wonderful day!

Most sincerely,

Katherine Barry

Film Class Project!

Big Changes

Wow.
What a week.
I was sick all week, finally ending up in Urgent Care on Thursday afternoon. They told me what I already knew, a nasty stomach virus that's going around. The doctor was wonderful and told me not to do anything but rest and that there was no way I was to be around small children.
So, I had to call the lady that I babysit for every Friday and cancel. I felt terrible; I still do. It was a big day that she had been clearing with me for probably three weeks, but seriously, stomach flu-like viruses don't seem to be something that should be messed with.
So I lay on the couch for most of the week, alternating between feeling incredibly ill and attempting to eat. Safe to say, after a long night of rest last night, I feel much better. Not all the way, but closer than I've felt since Sunday.
Emily and I were taking out the trash today when I noticed our pigeon friend, Shirley, lying dead underneath some pipes. The pigeons have been missing lately and we hadn't figured out what had happened to them. Well, when one pigeon dies in a certain place, it seems that no pigeon returns. And so, Shirley lies dead down the back steps and Laverne has flown the coop. Immense sadness was felt by Emily and myself, and Hunter only made pigeon jokes.
"Surely, Laverne must be around." "Are you "sure" she's dead?" He fought a battle with terrible pigeons that must not be related to Laverne and Shirley at all last year at his apartment on the South Side.
Hunter may be moving back to Wisconsin for a few months in the fall and for that, I am stunned and saddened. While his motives are purely for necessary financial gain, I will miss him. The conversation happened while I was sick and therefore more prone to crying than usual, so we all know how that ended: me crying while Hunter tried to calm me down.
I looked at him later that night and asked him what will happen if he still loves me when he moves to California (which he is hoping to do at some point in the next couple of years). He told me that we'd cross that bridge when we came to it but that we'd find a way to make it work.
It was comforting to hear.
Ugh. Watch out for Spyware Protect 2009 popping up on your computer. I have spent an afternoon getting rid of this stupid ad that wouldn't leave my desktop. Apparently, it is an attempt to steal credit card information and other information. I don't know. It was rather annoying.

Anyway, I'm going to see a movie tonight with Hunter while Emily is at a cast party for the show that she's doing costumes for this spring. It should be nice.

Have a lovely afternoon/evening.

Well, the weekend was nice. Emily's friend Randy was in town from St. Louis, so they spent a lot of time together. Hunter and I spent a good part of the weekend editing video that he shot.
Sunday night, I fell really ill and am just now beginning to recover. Stomach flu or food poisoning, whatever it was, it's been intense. Emily sat with me for part of the first night, when I couldn't stop crying and then yesterday Hunter came over after class and brought me crackers and Gatorade and sat with me until night.
I called my doctor in Denver and the Wellness Center here at Loyola and they both told me the same thing: You'll live, just eat bananas, rice, applesauce and toast. Okay.
The abdominal cramps live on, however, as does a massive headache, making today too long of a day already and it's only 10:00 am.
Tomorrow I have to babysit at 8:30, class at 1:00, filming from 4:30-??
I've got homework piling up and I'm starting to get stressed out.
I missed a big assignment yesterday and now my teacher is upset with me, but I really don't care all that much. I just don't want her to take the tone that her emails have been taking with me lately. I'm happy to lose that part of my grade, perfectly happy. I didn't understand the assignment from the get-go, and didnt' get it done in time. My bad.
Ah, well, here's to the late beginning of a hectic week. Hopefully by the time the weekend comes, I'll be able to breathe.

Assignments.

Thorndale “El” Stop

Seconds, minutes, hours, the streets lose count. Days, months, weeks, years. There’s a pothole in the middle of the intersection; it hasn’t been touched in a long while. Cars traveling down Broadway, southbound, avoid the pothole nimbly, jumping left or right around it and continue into traffic, slipping away to other places.

Above, the “El” slides to a jerky stop, passengers departing from the silver beast to swarm the street below. The go left and right too, just like the cars avoiding the pothole. They follow a slow line, crossing the street, blending into the foot-traffic already present at this busy intersection. The passengers who are left waiting for the other train become antsy, anxious. They’ve seen the train lights coming, they’ve felt the slight hope that comes with every train signal, every blast of the horn, every warning. They shift their weight, back and forth, on the platform as they sit there, stand there, either under the heat or out in the brisk wind.

The “El” is the life-giver to this intersection. It provides a stream of people, one constant moving body, yet individuals among them. It is the pumping heart, the engine, everything pulsing and throbbing, feeding the storefronts, the shops and the small diner at the corner.

It’s in the diner that you’ll find the regulars. These people chat with the waitress at the U-shaped bar in the center of the first room. They drink their coffee as she fills the bottles of ketchup and A1, smiling as a new set of patrons walk in. They seat themselves. In the middle of a swarming metropolis, a small town feel radiates from inside this small place.

“The Little Corner Restaurant” is a gathering place for a small amount of the people who pass around the corner and down the streets of this place. The waitress who seems to act as the hostess too went to Northwestern, long enough, but not too long ago. She tells me how she came to be here, and I find the story informal and sweet.

“My friend lived right over there,” she says, gesturing vaguely over her shoulder out the southwest window of the diner. “Over there,” must mean Edgewater, an eclectic neighborhood on the north side of Chicago. “We used to come over here to do our homework.”

I laugh; we talk about the fact that Northwestern students never had U-Passes and her attention is caught by the man seated closest to the kitchen. He’s smiling and waving his coffee cup.

The waitress, another one, not so young anymore, a mother, a grandmother, a quick-witted lady, refills our drinks. She tells the boys seated around me not to cause me any trouble, because she has three boys herself. She beams as she tells us that she is expecting another grandchild sometime in April.

I smile and I’m excited for her. It’s one of those times when genuine emotions spill from somewhere you weren’t sure you were hoarding them. She turns away, slender wrinkled hands picking up an empty place on their way away.

After breakfast, I pay at the cash register. It’s a large metal instrument, a relic from some other time. There are no digital number gracing it’s front, nothing except an odd clang as the waitress, sometimes hostess, punches in the total of my bill. It’s probably sat on that counter for more than 50 years, I ask, and she doesn’t even know.

“A long time,” is her only answer, followed by a smile. Her medium brown hair hardly moves as she hands me my change and tells me to have a nice day.

I open the doors and step out into the bright light of the day. I walk across the street, cutting through the traffic waiting at the red light. They wait to go, push past the white bars of crosswalks and burst free into the world.

I dodge an oncoming taxi, its horn blaring at me, shoving my still full self into a quick sprint across the two lanes. Safely on the sidewalk, I move to the right of the intersection, past a parking lot filled with cars. They sit there, patiently, waiting for their owners to return.

Across an alley, a small strip mall sits, crumbling under the “El.” The small parking lot is littered with taxis, empty and waiting for a fare. “VideoTown” is a business leftover from the 90’s when VHS tapes ruled the face of media. There are rows of crudely constructed shelves containing empty boxes. An indifferent teen mans the counter at the back, talking on his cell phone.

“We don’t have this one,” seems to be the most oft uttered phrase. He types neon words into a computer, spitting out neon numbers. It is a rudimentary database. Clientele from the Laundromat next door filter through, wandering aimlessly. I ask one of the men what he hopes to find, and he answers, “Shit, anything good.”

VHS tapes are still for sale, three rows, long shelves, tall enough to touch the ceiling. They sell for two dollars, says a sign quickly taped to one of the shelves. Old titles, new titles, random titles fill the shelves and line the walls.

The Laundromat seems to be a hub of activity. A middle-aged Asian man stands guard over his space. He stands by the window, watching. College students, families and the like gather there to do the necessary laundry for their lives. The last wash is at 8, doors close at 10.

The liquor store across the street is filling up. During the day, beer suppliers can be seen loading their wares. They sit stacked on the sidewalk. Passerby stare at them, perhaps longingly, perhaps in disgust. They walk by, looking back. I stand in the alley adjacent, watching.

There is a bakery with a red awning. No one goes in or out and I begin to wonder who would go in. It seems to sit silent and untouched. “Bunz” advertises cookies and other delightful backed goods. I’m not tempted. It seems no one is.

Pulses of people pour from the doors of the “El.” That’s what this corner is, a station full of hope for trains. People come and go, spend time killing time to see the train slide in on those infinite metal rails. Homeless men beg for spare change as a businessman picks up a newspaper and begins to read. It’s the way things are here, ever moving, ever changing, every day is another commute, another march up an avenue and down a street.

The Thorndale “El” stop is a colorful corner filled a vast amount of diverse people, but it is never stagnant. The block is shaped by its constant motion, its constant influx of people. At night, groups of kids will loiter here, cops will drive by slowly, lights on bright, and people will walk a little faster out of the doors of the station. The next day, the sun will dawn and the hours will tick by, the people will flow through and all will be the same.

This is my assignment for "One Block" an essay describing, well, one block.

It's for the class that I hate, the one where I continuously lock horns (believe me, she has them) with the teacher, excuse me, professor. or doctor, or whatever she prefers to be called.

Also, I was in film class yesterday when my professor told me that he enjoyed my poetry that I wrote for the short film on youtube and that he'd like to see me in his screenwriting class next year. I was thrilled. So I will be attempting to learn screenplay writing and that's actually quite beneficial to me because I've been getting more involved in the boys' work, which does indeed involve the need of those programs such as Final Draft, Final Cut, etc.

Last night we watched the first forty five minutes of Hunter's movie "Westin."
He wrote it over two years ago, filmed it two years ago this May, and is finally seeing some results. The current editor is his fourth, so the post-production has been plagued by random issues. Some of the actors and some of us gathered in the living room to watch it. (It's a horror movie, by the way). The amount of film edited takes us up to the first kill scene. The editor has sort of assembled the first kill scene and I'm not sure about it, but on the whole, the film looks beautiful.
I am so proud of Hunter. The shots were all beautiful and scenic, dramatic enough to hold attention. The script was what a horror film will need. It set everything up the right way.
I was quite pleased with the whole thing.

YouTube.

Well, my little film project is complete:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BKvm2fNi2Q4

Check it out!
It's about winter in Chicago.

Concert Update

Monday, Monday. 

Emily's mom and two sisters are still here, so in order to give them some space, I've been camped at the boys. I've been spending part of my days here and parts of them back at my house. It's sort of like having two houses twenty minutes apart and it's sort of weird.

Saturday night was a success. Last time, the "band" that Hunter is in had close to fifty or sixty people in attendance. This time, double that and add some more. It was intense. The basement was packed and it was hard to get through. I wiggled my way up to the front with Emily and some of our friends so that we could see what was going on. Of course, they were sorely unprepared as far as refreshments, but all in all, it was still a rocking time.

Hunter and I left with some of his friends and went back to his house (with a quick stop for coffee) to wait for his brother and some guys from a couple of actual bands that were going to sleep at the boys' house. 

I met his brother for the first time, which went pretty well I think. Actually, I know that for a fact. I'd met most of the other dudes back in April when I was visiting and it was good to see them again.

I also asked them if they'd be interested in doing music for the production company in Missouri that I've been sort of, but not really, working for. 

They seemed to be for that, so that means that I've done my job for the week!

Ha, yes.

I'm going to start taking walks. Hey Mumu, will you please please send me the running shoes in my closet? Thanks in advance. So my first step is to walk between the boys house and my house.

I'm going to do that now. Maybe.

Sm-or-gas-bo-a-rd-of-th-ings

I'm up at 8:40 on a Saturday.
And there may be very little hope of going back to sleep.
Ha, I will sleep.

Midterm grades are back:
Broadcast A
Intro to Film Production: A
Ethics: B
Advertising: B-
Literary Journalism with Connie Fletcher, the most evil woman to ever set foot on the face of the Earth, no worse, the most terrifying soul that has ever entered a life form: Oh, I don't know. No idea. Somewhere between a C and an A. Maybe if I'm lucky a B, but if she's cackling over her grade book as I know she is, probably a C.

I'm not sure if you remember the Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle books? On Thursday morning, Hunter, Kyle, Coupe and I went to see a children's play directed by Hunter's teacher based on Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle.
Surprisingly, we were all more than moderately entertained.

I do love Emily and things are back on track as far as our relationship.
Hunter and I have been together for 5 months tomorrow and even that is going well.
Things may be hectic, but they're looking up.

Spring, please come soon!!!

Love,
Katie

Winter End Stretch

Here I am, the first week back from a very uneventful spring break, exhausted. I am tired.
There's nothing to be done about it.
I need winter to end. I need to push through until the end of the semester. And then, who knows?
Ugh. So much uncertainty and so many questions. The future is looming in front of me and I'm terrified.

Emily and I have been watching "Friends" all night and it's been nice.

The short horror film that Hunter acted in during the fall is hitting the festival circuit. It's for sure going to be shown at the British Film Festival in L.A. in early May. Even though it's only a 2o minute film, this is wonderful news.

The romance novel is stagnant. Apparently, you have to be awake to write. Who knew?

I hope that spring is settling in wherever you are.

Year in Pictures

Hunter's doberman Otto on the way back from Wisconsin.

Chicago in the rain.

Chicago in the rain.

Lakefront property. Dusk

Bonfire. Crivitz, Wisconsin

Sarah and I

Hunter and I

Emily and I and our peace cheesecake on Inauguration Day.

Hunter and I at the prom party.

Melly and I

Hunter and I

Emily, Sarah, and I

Emily, Me, Little Emily, Megan

PROM v. 2009

Me and Hunter, who was officially my prom date

Hunter's roommate Coupe and I dancing
Coupe and I
Hunter and I under the balloon archway.
Part of the crew: from left, Trif, Hunter, Kyle and me

I had more fun at a prom party than I ever did at prom the first time, although the entire time, I mourned my dress. I wore my Easter dress, but things went wonderfully. I even made punch, prom-style, which was a huge hit at the party. Cheese puffs, cheap chips and dollar popcorn rounded out the list of prom refreshments. We blew up balloons and the boys made an arch of them for photo-ops.
Of course, as the night wore on, the balloons began to disappear. POP! you'd hear. POP! POP!
Dancing was minimal but definitely happened. It was really nice to see people.

When I come home for spring break, I will have minimally horrendous hair. I always cut Kyle's hair, which he enjoys. I have no idea what I'm doing, but for some reason, he's always thrilled with the results. Last night after the Oscars, Hunter and a pair of scissors had a date with my hair. I lost two inches. He kept jumping around, telling me he was giving me the choppy, spiky look, and my face was scrunched up in absolute terror. The jury's still out on whether or not I like the look. But it was hilarious and so totally worth it either way. I also decided to grow my hair all the way out, so for the next while, there won't be any short hair, which may be a good thing.

After midterms, we are going to Hunter's cabin in Wisconsin, and I'll be there through the weekend.
I'll be home next Monday through next Saturday. So I hope to see everyone!

Prom.

Hunter is throwing a formal party this weekend, in honor of Emily being away at Randy's formal in Kansas City.
I still don't have a date, but I am expecting him to get around to asking me at any time. I've been teasing him about it all week. It's going to be like prom, only better. Because I'm sure you remember my prom experience. I looked great, but had a fail date. Ugh. So hopefully, my dress will arrive in time, and if not, it's cool, because I'm going to wear my Halloween costume dress all over again.
So either way, I am going to look awesome and have a great time!

Also, I've been sick this week, but I have been in a great mood.
Next weekend, after all of my midterms, Hunter and I are going to head up to Wisconsin and hang out at his cabin for the weekend, and then I'll fly back to Denver and then hang out for a few days and then fly back to Chicago and then finish the semester.
I'm sort of doing PR for Emily's Randy's production company. I mean, it's not a huge thing, but it's going to get me a little bit of experience.
I NEED to find an internship. I'm nervous. You know how scared I get about new things. It's ever-present, breathing down the back of my neck kind of fear. I'm anxious. So let's hope for the best here. I have zero idea what I want to do with my life.
As soon as I get my computer back, a romance novel will be in the works, but I don't feel as though that will be getting very far very fast. Hopefully by the end of the summer, I'll have something to show for it.
I'll be taking summer classes, obviously, and living here and doing some traveling and hoping to head to Africa or South America and get some volunteering in. So here's to me finding an internship, building a resume, somehow managing to create a career path while making enough money to travel a bit and get back to Denver to hang out and then building a life.
UGH.
Good news, though, I found some houses that I love.
So you know, that's a plus.

I hope your day has been filled with love and peace!

What do you think of the stimulus bill??

Email Insults.

Muslims who want to live under Islamic Sharia law were told on Wednesday to get out of Australia , as the government targeted radicals in a bid to head off potential terror attacks.
Separately, Howard angered some Australian Muslims on Wednesday by saying he supported spy agencies monitoring the nation's mosques. Quote: 'IMMIGRANTS, NOT AUSTRALIANS, MUST ADAPT. Take It Or Leave It. I am tired of this nation worrying about whether we are offending some individual or their culture. Since the terrorist attacks on Bali , we have experienced a surge in patriotism by the majority of Australians.'
'This culture has been developed over two centuries of struggles, trials and victories by millions of men and women who have sought freedom'
'We speak mainly ENGLISH, not Spanish, Lebanese, Arabic, Chinese, Japanese, Russian, or any other language. Therefore, if you wish to become part of our society . Learn the language!'
'Most Australians believe in God. This is not some Christian, right wing, political push, but a fact, because Christian men and women, on Christian principles, founded this nation, and this is clearly documented. It is certainly appropriate to display it on the walls of our schools. If God offends you, then I suggest you consider another part of the world as your new home, because God is part of our culture.'
'We will accept your beliefs, and will not question why. All we ask is that you accept ours, and live in harmony and peaceful enjoyment with us.'
'This is OUR COUNTRY, OUR LAND, and OUR LIFESTYLE, and we will allow you every opportunity to enjoy all this. But once you are done complaining, whining, and griping about Our Flag, Our Pledge, Our Christian beliefs, or Our Way of Life, I highly encourage you take advantage of one other great Australian freedom,
'THE RIGHT TO LEAVE'.' 'If you aren't happy here then LEAVE. We didn't force you to come here. You asked to be here. So accept the country YOU accepted.'
Maybe if we circulate this amongst ourselves, American citizens will find the backbone to start speaking and voicing the same truths.
If you agree please SEND THIS ON...IF NOT, DELETE!!




I worry about the state of our country when I find things such as the one posted previous in my inbox. I get several emails a day preaching Christian beliefs and how they should be tied in with government, but let me remind you of a simple fact, one that I hold dear to my heart:

SEPARATION OF CHURCH AND STATE
Now see, the things that you believe may be one thing, but this is NOT a Christian country! No matter how hard you try, you still have to coexist with people who share different beliefs! GASP! oh no! Muslims? God, save us all!
We good Christians killed the Native American's in order to become the "Americans" that we are so proud to be.
So while I support everyone being able to speak English, I won't support this (or Australia's) right to push people away based solely on their "immigrant" status.
And this "backbone," you wish you had...trust me, if you had it, you'd be shuffling away from black people on the bus, making Jews wear stars of David on their coats and burning mosques.
Let's not, really.

We're all transplants. We share the world. Let's share our lifestyles and our love. Let's end hate and discrimination....isn't that what Jesus would do?

Oh, and by the way, I deleted the email. Perhaps I should have deleted this post, but I felt that it deserved some attention.

Update.

With the fever came the tears. Great hiccuping sobs that wouldn't stop. My eyes were red, full of water, my body ached and burned, my head was throbbing. He brought me tea and held me until I stopped crying and even then nothing felt better. The heat was quickly replaced by the cold, the feeling that you'll never be warm again, which was quickly replaced by the feeling that you are cooking, baking from the inside, which was quickly replaced by the chill....
I felt no better this morning and as of 8:30 tonight, I am feeling the same. Terrible.
This flu-like bug is hurting me. I missed class (no surprise) but for the first time in a long time, I had a legitimate excuse.
So here's hoping that tomorrow I'll wake up and be magically healed, some sort of gift.

Valentine's Day was uneventful.
We passed the four month mark.

Emily passed her test with flying colors (98%) and is currently serving customers as I type this.

It rained in Chicago and I was able to remember what Simon looked like. He needs an official car wash but something tells me that it'll have to wait until April.

I need to get a summer internship.
Or a job.
Or something.

I am stressed out.
The other day, I spent the entire afternoon cleaning my room. It felt nice. I put up some new pictures and stuff, and I was hoping that it would stay clean for awhile. It didn't, but you know...It was worth the effort.

Thanks so much for the Valentine's Day cards. I bought some, but haven't sent them out. Ha, don't think you won't get them though, they are beautiful.

PIctures.

Pictures from the day at the lake and subsequent party.
Today, Tuesday, it's supposed to be 65 degrees here in the Windy City and I, for one, am thrilled. Football is supposed to be happening this afternoon after class. Emily is taking the test for her new job today, and if she gets above a 90%, she gets to keep it. She's serving at a little family-style restaurant called Leona's.

Eventful

The last week has been the most intense of my life.
Let's rewind.
Friday night. Emily and I pick Hunter up from work and we head downtown to a party. We all have a great time. I pull him outside at some point and we are talking to each other, and I couldn't help myself, I told him I loved him. He made this funny face and wouldn't look at me and I asked him what was wrong and then apologized for telling him that if it made him uncomfortable. He promised me that it wasn't the case and that he's actually been wanting to tell me that he loves me for awhile.
Awesome!
He also tells me that he's been reading some of my latest stories and that he really enjoyed them.
More awesomeness happened Saturday night. Hunter and Jake (Emily's sort of boyfriend-person at Loyola) put together a band specifically for this HUGE party that was happening. The name of the band is Velociraptor. Well, the show was amazing. Two girl singers, Jake playing the bass, this kid Derek on guitar and Hunter on the drums. Emily and I got dressed up and danced and socialized and mingled and danced more. It was literally one of the best parties I've been to during college.
Okay, so Emily's feet hurt and we're looking to throw an afterparty at my house, so we go home. Hunter and Trifilo and I go to DunkinDonuts by the el. Hunter gets a call from Ian's dad.
Where's Ian?
No one knows. He was at the party.
And then he wasn't.
So then we start getting all these text messages from Ian, who won't respond to us or answer our phone calls and then we get a call saying that he's been at his apartment and that he left a note.
Okay, so suicidal Ian is on the loose in Chicago and now he sends his sister a message telling her he's at Bryn Mawr and Lakeshore Drive. Ok. So we get there, the cops show up, we're all looking for him. We get another message that he's somewhere else.
Ugh. My feet are soaking wet and freezing. His parents are there too, so Emily and I decide to head back to the boys house. We get there. Hunter, Little Emily, Coupe and Kyle are there so we all sit for awhile and then decide that we need to go to bed.
Forty five minutes after that decision, at 5:30, Kyle comes in to tell me that Ian is here. I go in and demand all of his pills (all of his Adderall were missing, and we suspected that he may have taken some). He tells me that he doesn't have them. I watch him as he gathers some things and then listen as he tells me that he'll be moving out and that he'll be back.
And then he's gone.
8:30. We're all sprawled around the apartment, having improvised beds and sleeping arrangements. The doorbell rings. I'm the one that answers the door. "Chicago Police." Great. I fill them in on the developments and then go back to sleep.
Turns out Ian was picked up by his parents and then taken to the hospital of apparent Adderoll overdose.

That morning, me, Emily, Hunter, Kyle and Coupe all went out to breakfast. It was nice to be able to have all of us there and to be able to be close with everyone. We were all exhausted but it was wonderful to be with the crew. Everyone laughed and lingered until we all felt alright.
That night, we convened at our place. Another gathering filled with the closest of friends and love.
Monday morning I was taking Hunter to school on a very narrow street when, out of nowhere, a man threw his door open. Slam! I heard a crunch. My side-view mirror was cracked and I could see a man climbing out of his car to check the damage.
"I don't want to get you in trouble, or anything, but this is a rental car." I'm freaking out and after we exchange information, there are tears. I go home, Hunter misses class because you really shouldn't leave me when I'm in that situation, and then we go to the police station to make a report.
The police officer is upset because the other guy didn't come in to file the report, but tells me it's alright, because the accident was his fault. Also, the dent that was in his door doesn't quite match my damage, so that's a titch suspicious.
Okay. So then Tuesday rolls around. I'm in class with a teacher who for some reason seems to have it out for me, and I pull out a bag of grapes.
"Katie," she says, interrupting lecture, "we don't eat grapes in this classroom. Drinks are okay, water is fine, but eating isn't allowed."
I mumble something about thinking that grapes didn't count since they are water based and all of sudden, I burst into tears and have to leave the room.
Great. I spent the entire class period freaking out in the hall about everything.
I go back in and actually stood up for myself, which was cool.
And then the week got moderately better.
We played football during the warm weather that Chicago got on Saturday and then all went to dinner at Chilis and then threw an impromptu party last night, complete with our first attempt at margaritas.
The weekend flew by, and things are shaping up.

Poem

Expect the unexpected
in the places
that you haunt.
Never give up hoping,
or maybe just don't start.
Instead of wanting desperately,
wait patiently to find,
that some of the things
we discover
were right there all along.



*I wrote this poem sometime in July of 2007. I found it tonight and thought you might like it.

Illness=coughing.
Ugh.

Meeting the parents went well, I think.

I'm tired.

meet the parents

Tomorrow I meet the parents.
Yesterday he remarked on the fact that we've been together almost four months and it's probably serious.
Ha, nervous.
He told me all I have to do is talk and they'll like me.

Inauguration Celebration

Thrown headlong back into what is possibly the busiest semester of my life, I found myself staring at the pile of dirty dishes and bottles scattered over the kitchen this morning as I watched my necessary cup of tea circle the microwave.
We're sick. Something is going around between all of us. Ian has been carrying an orange bottle of cough syrup around for days. Emily, Hunter and I have sore throats. I am exhausted.
I woke up yesterday and my throat didn't begin to relax nor the pain to ease until I'd had three cups of hot tea.
I sat with Hunter and Coupe in Coupe's room as we watched the inauguration. I can honestly say that my eyes almost teared up. The fact that there was stumbling during the swearing in was endearing. The worse the wedding, the better the marriage, right?
Today, there are whispers of the closing of Guantanamo. People all over the world have a sense of relief. They've exhaled, finally.
Last night, I threw the best party I've ever thrown. Emily and I used our crock-pot for the first time to create a simplistic stew. I threw in a large piece of meat and some broth and as it slowly cooked, I added potatoes. Emily's contribution was onions and at seven, we spooned it out into bowls for everyone. It was delicious. Hunter cut the meat and divided it amongst us.
We dressed up. I wore my suit. Emily wore a black dress. The boys wore suits. It was a classy affair at the beginning. The amount of people in our apartment swelled and swelled. People from Loyola came as did people from Columbia. Emily's dad dropped in with some wine. I had two glasses, but as the exhaustion overcame me, I felt the need to police the party, which I was told could be heard down the street. I closed the windows, though, which seemed to help and denied all requests for music.
I kept an eye on the recycling and on the guests, making sure that everyone had what they needed.
We bought a cheesecake at Costco the other night, and I cut up strawberries and blueberries to put on it. The top of the cheesecake became a peace sign crafted out of strawberries and the sides were ringed with blueberries. How patriotic.
Cheese and crackers completed the attempt at mild sophistication.
I tried to go to bed at 11.
The party was raging on the other side of my wall, though, and at one point, I was called back into the chaos. My mood shifted and I found myself cranky. As everyone left, I played mom and began cleaning.
Overall, however, one of the best parties of the year.

I hope you found Aretha Franklin's hat as amusing as we did.
This week has killed me. Since I got back, I haven't had a chance to breathe. Classes, work, so much work, Simon, Hunter, Emily, the apartment...time is moving quicker than we'd like to think.
Soon enough I'll be 21.
The invitation is still standing. My apartment. Chicago. May 18, 2009.
And there may be a chance that Hunter will join me for Easter. Slight because he will most likely be on family vacation, but still a chance.
ugh.
Upton Sinclair calls.

simon.

Well that was fun.
I got to the boys house the other night and realized that someone had hit my car. Great. Smashed it.
The entire bumper is shattered and I'm a little upset.
It happened between leaving the restaurant for dinner and me getting to the boys house. In that time, I parked one block north of my apartment. I also had people in the car the entire night, so it's not like I hit something and just bailed.
I didn't hear any crunching and when I parked, there were no cars behind me. I drove to the boys and when I got there, I noticed the damage.
It doesn't add up to me, but I'm really frustrated that someone would hit my car and then not leave a note.

ugh.

The lake I first fell in love with lays calm in the frozen air. It's blue edged in lighter blue that fades to white as the ice and snow take over. The water laps softly at the shore.
I stare from the window of the warm room. I see a religious statue, marking its place in the world, significant for few.
Trudging out into the snow-covered parking lot, I find my illegally parked and still frozen car.
I come home to my cluttered apartment, hot and bright. I open the window to let some air in and then close the fridge, which sometimes doesn't seem to stay shut.
I pull leftover out and compile a meal of sorts. Peanut butter, celery, raisins, a diet soda, a taco from dinner last night.
We sprawl on the furniture, exhausted in the early evening. There is no end. Tomorrow I can sleep in. And I will.

It's been quite a journey, hasn't it?

TIRED.
Made it back to Chicago safely.
I didn't realize how much I missed Simon until it was me and him hurtling up I-55.
Hunter's been a dream, making me dinner and keeping an eye on me.
Emily chose to stay behind, so I'll see her sometime either tomorrow or Sunday.
I cancelled babysitting today. I've been sleeping and needing it.
School starts Monday.
I broke my laptop.
ugh.. coherent thoughts aren't possible. Sentence form will come later.
All is well, for the most part, though, and for that I am grateful.

slice of the cervix.

The phone call shattered Christmas Eve for me.
"I know you're going to worry even though I'm telling you not to," Dr. Davis said. She told me that the cells that we had identified and then biopsied in September weren't going away and that the next step would have to be taken between now and May.
Well, I chose now and referral in hand, I let the tears fall.
I cried for almost two hours.
And so, plans were made for the 30th of December, an office visit, to give me local anesthetic in/around my cervix and then proceed with the LEEP procedure. Basically, they cut and cauterize your cervix all at one time.
Well, I went online to do more research and became completely unglued. We're talking hysterical. I usually take things and pain very well, but the idea of this really bothered me.
Of course, the office was closed for the holiday weekend, so there was no time to call the doctor and talk about other options until Monday (the day before the scheduled procedure).
I called and told them my fears and that I would feel more comfortable doing it under general anesthesia, something that Dr. Davis and I had discusses. The assistant told me that the doctor had actually thought that general anesthesia would be a better approach for me. (The LEEP is super common, and some of them are done under anesthesia but most are done in office. Sorry, not my deal at all.)
Mom, who has been to every doctor's appointment with me, was right behind my decision and we changed my plane tickets to today.
We met with the doctor on the 30th. She's a wonderful lady who hugged me and assured me that everything would be alright. She didn't seem inconvenienced at all by my decision and she made me feel a lot more comfortable about the whole process.
Dr. Davis did a good job of referring me and for that I am eternally thankful.
When I first got the abnormal PAP results in September, I called the Loyola Wellness Center (specializing in terrible healthcare) and asked them for a referral to a gynocologist out in Chicago. The response?
"Chicago's a big city. Look in the phone book."
I was on a plane two weeks later. Nothing for me beats having a doctor that I absolutely trust and feel comfortable with.

The thing that got me was the mention of a tube for the smoke. Smoke!?!? out of there???
Mom didn't believe me that there was actually smoke, but we settled that up with the nurse yesterday. "Enough to cloud the area," she said.
Gross.

So I went in yesterday morning, starving since I hadn't had anything to eat or drink since midnight, and got ready for surgery. They took me back, attempted to start the IV, which failed miserably. It felt like something was trying to fit into too small of a vein. That plan was scrapped and we switched arms.
Then they gave me some fluids and we chilled out for awhile. The hospital gowns are the least attractive things in the world and I felt absolutely exposed, but the nurses were nice enough to bring me like four hot blankets.
When the nurse went out to get Mom, she told her that I was a very nice daughter. (Which I am.)
Eventually, the doctor came in and talked to me and my mom. And then the anesthesiologist. And then the surgery nurse. And then the resident who was going to assist. (Ugh, I was not a fan of her. You know when you just get a vibe? Well...I hope she got a good show. She didn't even introduce herself to Mom. FAIL.)
So they gave me a sedative which I did not start to feel. Apparently, I wasn't supposed to remember the ride down to the OR. Which I do. I hopped off the bed and onto the super skinny surgery table and the doctor held my hand while I fell asleep.

BAM!

I woke up in recovery, still starving. They had told me I was going to be nauseous but that was most definitely not the case. They gave me a pain pill and some crackers and let me chill out for a while and then Mom and I went home.
I parked myself on the couch, munching on pills throughout the night to keep me comfortable and here I am today.

Mom texted/called all the necessary people. I do believe that she used that time to work into the conversation with Hunter a visit to Denver. Emily was glad I'm alright and she'll be picking me up tonight at the airport.

A little sore but no worse for the wear. So I'll be on drugs/pain pills for most of today and then I'll probably take the last one as soon as I get to Chicago. (No driving on Vicodin!)

So yeah.
Hopefully this will be my last experience with metal in that area.
But if not, this was definitely a very comfortable and worthwhile endeavor. Mom agrees. I am lucky to have one as supportive as her.

Break Wrap-UP

Look back, look ahead.

Looking back on 2008, I find that I've taken an incredible journey this year. At the beginning of January I was back in Denver, starting my semester at MSCD. I had yet to meet my beautiful car, Simon, and I was still convinced that Danny and I were great together.
February 4th: Simon became a part of the family in the midst of a snowstorm.
As the months passed, I settled in at home and began to realize that I yearned to be back in Chicago. Plans were made.
Danny and I fell apart because I realized that some things would never change.
Chicago welcomed me back with open arms.
I cancelled plane tickets to go to Portland to visit Chicago again instead.
Dairy Queen nearly killed me this summer. Shake Lady, manager issues and too many hours were a constant anxiety.
The road trip devastated my bank account but left me utterly thrilled with life. From Denver to St. Louis, St. Louis to Chicago and then back again.
To see the boys, to go to the beach, to sit in their apartment and hang out was magical. We looked for apartments and plans were made once again.
The end of summer. The long haul out to Chicago. Mike and Mom were nice enough to make it as well, beating me there.
Getting used to living on my own (with Emily).
Adjusting to the pigeons, the aparmtent.
Getting my bike stolen.
The beach.
The beach!
The beach!!!!
Summer!
Visit home in September.
Hunter Johnson.
Halloween.
The election of Barack Obama!!!
Pre-thanksgiving Thanksgiving.
Going home to Denver.
Fruitypants picking me up at the airport.
Going back.
Football season.
Parties.
Christmas presents.
Winter.
Love.
The horrendous haul from Chicago to St. Louis.
Recylcling.
Laverne and Shirley!
Failing Logic.
Getting an A in Ballet!

It's been a great year.

Let's all work for the earth in 2009. Let's turn off our lights, walk a little more, waste less water and recycle more often.


Let's work for love instead of hate, peace instead of war, smiles instead of tears.


Let's love everyone we meet instead of hating them. Let's be more understanding and less rude. Let's remember why we love our family and friends. Let's be thankful, appreciate and kind. Let's do something wild and spontaneous! Let's go on an adventure, take a chance, grant a wish, give a smile. Let's support our new President and help him with the struggles that lay ahead for our country.
Let's remember not to yell, not to sweat the small stuff and to remember that there's nothing we can't do.
Let's stay happy and healthy!

Peace and love, all.
Happy 2009!

Peace on Earth

Grandma Mary with baby Kimber at Juanita's house. 12/25/2008
Sweet baby. She loved playing peek-a-boo with Mike.

Thanks to Aunt Sally, Grandmas Al and Mary, Grandpa Joe, Aunt Jan and Uncle Mike, Brian, Juanita, Marshal, Aunt Joan, Dad, Jeanie and mostly Mom for making this a wonderful Christmas.
I hope you all had a wonderful day filled with love and family.

Tales of Travel

I picked him up from work that night, stopping on Michigan Avenue and he jumped into my car, taxis honking behind me. The street is one of the most famous streets in Chicago. It contains the Magnificent Mile, Millenium Park, Tribune Tower and more importantly, Burger King and Joyce Ford.
We drove there. I was bubbling with excitement. He got us food and then we went and parked a block away at a very female-centered Ford dealership that plays the most terrible commercials on tv. "If you like Bill here..." cut to a man standing there next to Joyce, a bleached-blond middle-aged woman selling American-made cars..."then you'll love the Ford Focus. But if you like Jim..." cut to another man with a totally different look..."you'd love the Edge."
Emily and I always park across the street and eat our Burger King while it's still hot and delicious. He'd never been and was terrified of the idea of sitting in a dark car on a dark street in a less than savory neighborhood. I think he loved it in the end though. Who wouldn't?
I eat ridiculously fast, so I had to wait for him to finish. He told me he'd only open my presents if I opened his. So I did.
He loved his new wallet. I looked and looked and finally found a really nice one that will last him a long time. (Hopefully.) He opened the box that I wrapped the bell bottoms in. When he realized what they were, he was ecstatic.
"If you had told me to make a list of 100 things I thought you would get me, I wouldn't have put these on it. But now I can make a list of 100 things that aren't better presents than bell bottoms."
I was so happy.
I received romance novels with a Hunter twist. They're all about monsters or something scary (to remind me of him when I read them). I also got a movie that I'd really wanted for awhile.
All in all, great Christmas.
He put them on and they fit perfectly, and to my surprise, looked good. Really good. Now I don't mind the idea of bell bottoms so much.

We left Chicago around noon yesterday. Our plan was to leave a lot earlier, but you know that always works out. Emily and I had to take our recycling to the place while Hunter brought all of our bags down and helped us load up. We made sure that everything was off and that we had everything we needed. I'm not sure that we do, of course.
The drive started out fine, but soon turned terrifying. Simon is a small car, not much weight on his little frame, and not very good at powering through ice and snow. So we hit I-55 and hit blowing snow and ice. I can't pass trucks because getting into the second lane is scary because it's not always road but often snow-covered ice and slush.
The drive that normally takes us 4.5 hours with a couple of stops took us 7. We had to stop twice to get the ice that was building up on my car off of it. I kicked a quarter of an inch of ice off my front. It covered the license plate, the lights, the Honda symbol, the hood and the side mirrors. My windshield wipers worked because I kept them moving the whole time, but they too were covered in a sheet of ice.
It was slow going and I was perfectly content to do that. We arrived safe and sound, albeit exhausted.
I am flying out tonight, having gotten a good night's sleep and no laundry done.

Dairy Queen may have unofficially fired me. I had them put up a note that said that I wanted some hours over break. When I called for my schedule, there were no hours for me. I texted Tonya and asked and she told me: I'm not working much as it is. I need the hours for the kids. blah blah blah. So basically I'm not allowed back and I'm annoyed.
She's never working much as it is. Funny how that works out.

It'll be nice to get home and see everyone. I'll only be home for a couple of weeks, and it'll be nice to get back to Chicago again.
I hope our pigeons are going to be alright while we're gone.

Presents!

The ballet final was today. She suggested that perhaps I should consider a career in writing. I told her it was not something I'd ever considered.


I went today and bought Hunter a wallet and two pairs of bell bottoms. He's been talking about them for years but has never bought a pair. I hope he likes them. They might be too small though, so we'll see. The only problem is that he'll wear them, so I may be causing myself some trouble in the process.
Emily and I made that bow out of fail wrapping paper. I think it looks beautiful!!!

Yay! Let's hope he likes it.

End of the Semester/Mom promostion

Grades are starting to come in. It's going to be an ultimately disappointing semester after the Logic fiasco. However, I've realized that it was an illogical decision to attempt to do symbollese-filled geometry, something that I'll never be able to wrap my head around.
So, the first grade, B-. Cinema. Ugh. His notes for me were that I finished strong, which means I spent way too much of the first half of the semester not paying attention. The usual. Who can be expected to work when the sun is shining and the beach calls?
Ballet is not expected to be excellent, although who really knows at this point?
Women, Crime and Justice should be the most solid A I've ever gotten. I've learned that I really try in the classes that I like.
Social Justice, ugh. I have an A- going into the final, so at least a B there.

Oh well. Such is life.

We're preparing to head to St. Louis on Tuesday. I'm anxious. However, come and visit me at the DQ over the next few weeks because I will for sure be there. Recessions really don't look good on anyone. I swear, I thought I was done with that nonsense forever. Maybe they'll give me a raise. Oh man, no way.


So now that you now about my mediocre semester, here's the text of something our neighbor, Tara Whalen, wrote about Mom earlier this year:
[Maybe this will get me back in good graces... :) ]

Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Lucky duck
I have one incredible neighbor. I was reminded of that again today.

My daughters usually crash her house most afternoons after 4:00 or whenever it is that we get home. Today, true to themselves, 4:00 roles around and off they go. One right after the other, spilling out the back door.

You see we don't have a portion of our fence that joins our yards to hers. It fell down maybe 1 1/2, maybe 2 years ago. We have looked into getting a new fence. We have had people come out and bid to build a new fence, but the truth of the matter is that we love not having that section up. Diana also claims that she loves not having that fence up. When the people came to bid, she would ask if we could keep one section down so my kids could still come to see her. She has an open back door policy with them. If she is home, they are welcome to come.

Tonight I get a call soon after the girls go on their way. How soon before dinner Mom? We are going to make some cookies. They have an hour before dinner, so they were given permission as long as they waited to eat them.

A little while later I head over to round them up and bring them home for dinner. There is Avery on Diana's lap with her own spatula scrapping cookies from the cookie sheet. Avery knows to scrape and then drop the cookie on the foil. Bailey is also helping with her own spatula. Big smiles on all three faces. Once again truly enjoying each other's company.

Our next door neighbor does have two kids of her own, but they are in college now and have moved away. Katie to Chicago, and Mike, not too far, but still in Greeley. She misses her babies, but talks with them often. They will be home again soon, but in the meantime... if they don't mind too much... my babies are happy to come and play.

Thank you Diana for everything you do for us!!

Fristmas (Fail Christmas)

I'm annoyed.
I really hate Christmas.
For some reason, it just makes me sadder every year.
Sure, I've been listening to Emily's Christmas music.
Sure, I love the Christmas lights strung up everywhere, and sure I love presents (who doesn't?), but I really hate everyone's attitude.
Christmas is terrible, really.

Everyone wastes money that they don't have buying people things they don't need. Why don't we spend the money on something wonderful instead? I mean, I love getting nice perfume or something, but the people who have piles and piles of gifts aren't learning anything about Jesus. We're feeding them straight capitalism.
We march past the homeless to put a quarter in the red buckets that the bell ringers are guarding. Why don't we serve a hot meal to someone who needs it? Why don't we give blankets to the poor?
What would Jesus do, Christians?
I received an email this morning, I'm sure some of you got it, about Christmas being just for the birth of Christ and about how this isn't a holiday. It was a forward, though, and no one I know wrote it, so pardon the attack that I'm about to launch:


Here's a little excerpt:

These are NOT Holiday Trees
They are not Hanukkah bushes
They are not Allah plants
They are Christmas trees.
Say it..
CHRISTmas , CHRISTmas , CHRISTmas

Yes CHRISTmas -not Holiday
We are not celebrating the birth of a Holiday!!!
We are
Celebrating the Birth of
Jesus Christ!!!


Wow, was the author of this email smoking crack? "We are not celebrating the birth of a holiday!!!" Holiday, strictly speaking, means holy day. (Look it up.) The day that your lord was born is not a holy day to you? Wow, what does Christmas mean? From the looks of that excerpt from the email, it means that the person who wrote that doesn't care about peace or love (good things, I would say) but instead cares only about making sure that everyone follows what they believe in.
You'll notice that each of the major religions, in their purest form, promote peace and justice in the world, hope and joy rather than hate and anger. But once those ideas fall into the hands of people, they are nothing, twisted until some message appears.
Christians, watch yourselves. You're all selfish and rude, and the attempt to force everyone on this planet to believe what you believe really hurts me.
Of course the Christmas trees aren't Allah bushes or Hannukah plants, that'd be stupid. Only Christians would come up with a way to make a plant something necessary for their worship and/or celebration.
Hannukah has its own traditions. The dreidel, the menorah, those things are what the Jewish people use to celebrate their own holiday.
And while Islam does not have a "Christmas equivalent," they have their own set of beliefs and practices as well.

The repetition and capitalization of the word "CHRISTmas" as well cracks me up. It reminds me of a scene in the 1985 comedy "Better Off Dead" in which a very American woman is being completely untolerant of the French foreign exchange student. She keeps repeating "CHRISTmas" over and over, progressively getting louder as the student has been pretending she doesn't speak English. We are just like that. Slamming people over the head with our pervasive, persistantly annoying culture.



So next time you say "Merry Christmas," just think for a second. Do you really want to force your beliefs down the throats of others? Do you really want to be "that guy?"
Say what you feel. I've been signing all of my emails: "May your holiday season be filled with joy and most especially peace." Yeah, it's lame, but at least I don't look close minded. We live in a country that is supposed to be based on the separation of church and state, yet at the same time, we are a completely Christian country. We don't think about it because most of us were raised Christian. We don't know any better.


Let's all practice a little tolerance this holiday or CHRISTmas season by not hating everyone who isn't us. (But where's the fun in that?)


Pardon my rant, I'm a little cranky this morning. I missed a final because my car started honking AGAIN at 6:30 this morning. It continued until I took it in at 8:15. I explained my situation to the guy who took care of the intake process this morning. He was very understanding and supportive and I was filled with hope.
At 8:30, as I was leaving, I got a call from Gino, the man who worked on my car last time and who will be doing it again today. He doesn't believe me. He tells me that last time, he left it here and it was silent. That's fine, Gino, I said, why don't you ask my neighbors? I'm sure they have a few choice words for you.
I do as well. For $350, I expected my car to be fixed. I didn't ask for it to only occasionally be fixed. And it will return to your stupid dealership as many times as it needs to until it is silent. All the time.
Ugh. I am exhausted. I'm in a terrible mood. I just want this week to be over.

I don't want to come home for break. I'll miss my friends. Hopefully, I'll be working to cover some of the cost of this stupid stupid stupid car. I need a miracle.

Dance Informance

And so I went. Dressed in my ballet uniform: pink tights, ballet shoes, black leotard, hair pulled all the way back.
We sat in the crowded theater as the run-through progressed. Here we are, at the culmination of our semester of hard work, and we miss the cue. It's just the run-through, I think, pushing the girl in front of me out. We're front row, going through the motions. I can't see the crowd, it's made up of the rest of the girls and a few scattered guys from the dance department, but as I look into it, I hear laughter. Oh man, I think, we're just bombing this. It's so bad.
From the corner, we hear our ballet teacher. "Make it work, guys! Just make it work!" and so we keep going. On and off the stage, running in and out, in succession...
The run through ends. We're told that the music level can't be adjusted, that we're going to have to hope that we hear it. Great. We sit, clustered in the basement of the theater and we talk. It's not bad, actually. We laugh a little. I'm being friendly, charming and sweet, all of the things I'm sure the teacher wishes I was.
And then it's time.
We're called. We're waiting in the wings. And it begins. We don't miss our cue. The audience is packed. The show sold out three hours before it began. No one made it to see me, and for that fact I am eternally grateful. They were all tied up with another simultaneous show.
We did it! We run off and then it's over. I go out into the cold night realizing that I'm almost done with ballet.

Great!

December

As soon as the break commenced, I found myself haunting the places that I had so often dwelled in my youth. We wound our way up the snow-covered roads to Red Rocks, where we trudged through darkness and snow to reach the silent amphitheater. The seats were smooth with white covering, no one had yet touched them, run over them or kicked footprints through them. We saw a buck, as big as a female moose, prodding his mate up the snowy hills. We saw two more deer by the side of the road, as we went up, and then two more in a field as we went down.
The city itself was another task to conquer. We drove through the old streets, finding houses that we liked or Christmas lights. We drove through Burger King, the usual run, only to find that the food was as delicious as ever.
I saw Emma, the yellow lab I've come to love so much. She wagged her tail at me, her fat little body shaking with excitement.
We went back to the airport, and I found myself crying for the loss of those moments and the memories that I carry with me still of our time together.
The flight home was miserable, as most of those early morning flights are. I slept, Mike's big hood covering my eyes. When I woke, we were circling Joliet, circling, circling until Midway could get a runway open for us in the snow.
I landed and Hunter came with my beloved Simon to pick me up. I let him drive back, content to sit and watch him. I hadn't realized how much I missed him. "I wasn't going to tell you this," he said, "but I missed you." He held my hand the whole way home and I was happy.
Emily and I ran errands last night. I loved returning to our little house. She had auditions for plays coming up, and so Hunter came to see me. We watched a movie, tired of it, and then turned on Monday Night Football to see the end of it. We curled up, watched some "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia" and I fell asleep, exhausted from the early day.
I'm sick now. The first cold of the season had to strike me during the last week of school, of course. I had managed to maintain my health until now, when all of a sudden I have been struck down. My nose is running, my lungs are coughing, I'm sneezing, hot, cold, miserable.
Ah, but such is life. And everything is going to be alright.
Except for Logic, but we'll deal with that another day.