Feminism, or something like it.

I've spent four years of college learning about feminism and the sociological implications of being woman in the world.
I've spent twenty one years being a woman in the world.
I'm just now getting the theory behind it all, even though I've been studying, discussing and living the "how" part of the equation forever.

This is an unorganized rant. I like it. I'm sticking to it. 

I was not raised in a house where gender was an issue. I do not come from a traditional family structure. My mother never cooked dinner and vacuumed in pearls. In fact, I spent much of my childhood without gender. Yes, I had dresses and I was in love with Mom's makeup and I learned to run in high heels (I have mistyped "hells" three times), but I was never expected to act like a lady. I am grateful for having a brother. I know how to roughhouse and make mud pits and have fond memories of playing hockey in the street.
Being a girl wasn't something I was overly concerned about until I hit about the seventh grade. Even then, I was labeled as "uncool," probably because I wasn't showing any overt interest in makeup or boys and making out wasn't very high on my priority list. I didn't feel the need to be attractive to men. And trust me, I wasn't.
I have always displayed typically male characteristics. Even now, I love sports games, mostly football and basketball, and I love to drink beer and eat steak. I always consider myself three-eighths male (how I settled on that number, I'm not quite sure). I am feminine, immensely so and possess the deeply emotional capacity expected of women. I love mascara and everything that goes along with it, but am in no way "high maintenance." I'm not afraid of sexuality, and have suffered social repercussions based on that. I am not dainty, nor do I claim to be. I'm not usually the submissive one in a relationship, and until recently, have never been courted in any sort of traditional manner.
I won't lie, I hate girls. I do not hate them because they are women, but I hate the ways that they act as women. I hate the cattiness (sp?), I hate the obsession with appearance, I hate the whole persona they don in order to please men. When I find a woman who is realistic and approachable, not wearing a fake feminine guise, I am comfortable and from there, can work to create a bond. The male is easier to get along with, less passive-aggressive and more open to odd conversations without the feeling of being threatened. Perhaps once women realize that we're not all threats to each other, we'll be able to get along and foster a sense of respect and unity that I am beginning to suspect doesn't exist, even in our post-modern world situation. 
Sometime around the beginning of high school, I realized that attracting men was something that was easiest done if I lowered my perceived intelligence level. I have spent the last eight years with low standards and expectations, not only for my partners but for myself. I am recovering, slowly but hopefully. I am embracing my intelligence and my femininity, but equally, my independence, something that men are equally impressed with and afraid of.
Over break, I started seeing someone intelligent and successful, two things that I have been afraid to embrace based on my perception of myself. My reactions were overwhelming and nearly instantaneous. Not toward him (well, okay, maybe), but toward myself. I started seeing myself differently, more ably. I looked in the mirror and saw someone beautiful, maybe not entirely grown up, but getting there. I mean, he was wonderful, but I felt like I was able to hold my ground. I'm young, I'm still a child, I know this, and there are so many things in the world I still need to experience. But I was able to hold an intelligent conversation, hopefully carrying my own weight. While I'm still gaining my footing as far as feeling "worth it," this was a massive step in the right direction. I want to be around people who make me feel motivated to succeed, to try, to want to reach for something. The poor guy has no idea that he will be a huge factor in my life, even though the acquaintance was brief. It was thrilling, exhilarating, the rush that I felt. I felt like a person. I have never been "wined and dined" but this was exceptional. Perhaps not, but let's review my dating history briefly. Are you shuddering, wincing, thinking, "ooh, that was rough"? I am. And I knew it. When I brought home one boyfriend toward the end of high school, I told Mom, "Don't worry, this is only temporary."
I will say that the one thing that attracted me was the level of non-pretentious-ness  about the whole situation. I HATE pretentious people. Success does not have to include a nasty attitude. Intelligence does not preclude pretension, but that way of thinking about others (and inherently, yourself) shouldn't be the norm. I am just as intelligent as most of the people in the world but don't feel the need to display it as though my position in society is somehow elevated.
I've always known that I wanted to seek better, but I guess somewhere, didn't think I deserved it. I do. I am Katie Barry, hear me roar. (I'm keeping that sentence but I thought about deleting it. It's horrifyingly embarrassing yet also so timeless in its statement.)
Of course, no woman should have such expectations for being bought. I do not expect to become an under-earning, under-performing housewife. I want to work. I do not want to stay at home with the children (once I successfully find a man worth my ovaries), because I would be bored to tears. I love children, I want to work with them, but I want a career. I want to find fulfillment outside the household. That and I can't clean or cook anything but bacon and pie. Bacon and pie are a great start, but hardly worth a man keeping me caged at home for 9 hours a day.
Social convention does not allow women to act as men yet to remain feminine. I am that dichotomy in the flesh. I am lovely, sweet, submissive (at the proper times), snuggly, soft, all of the things a woman should be. But I am also loud, stubborn, offensive (at the proper times, hopefully), dominant, aggressive, unafraid.
I have a walk. It's a strut, really, and I'm not really sure how it came about. It's male in its basic form yet feminine and fierce once you throw high heels into the mix. See, for me it's less about gender bending and more about gender blending. Pick and choose, just like religion. That selection has worked so well for me spiritually and it seems to be working in my dating life as well. Men are attracted to someone who's not afraid to speak her mind. Not that life is all about attracting men, but, you know, I do have that as a goal.
I'm linking to an article I read in Newsweek. It's about feminism being blamed for the state of dating. I am not settling. I do not ever want to settle nor do I want to be old and single. I want a life-partner, emphasis on partner. I want a husband or a boyfriend or a life partner who is my opposite and equal. But not yet. In the later years, please.
I come from a non-traditional family with realistic expectations. I never understood myself to be a woman. I was just a part of the family. I was not expected to maintain any certain role, but rather, was accepted for who I was, be that feminine or masculine. My level of education has never been a subject up for discussion. Of course there was going to be college. I never for a second thought that I wouldn't go. There were no expectations of anything more or less. There was just do.
I come from a family of strong women. Women who can and do provide for themselves and those around them. There's a strong sense of satisfaction that comes from being able to maintain yourself as an individual rather than based off of someone next to you. Any marriage is a partnership, focused on a mutual respect for one another rather than on dependence. The women in my family are educated, intelligent and wildly successful in their endeavors. I am joining their ranks in a few months (once I become a college graduate, I feel as though I'm more of a person. This is an error, I understand, but it's strongly based on my desire to achieve and at the moment, I'm just trying to survive each day without becoming overwhelmed by my workload and lack of sleep) and am pleased to have the support system that I do have. Without it, I would not be where I am today. 

Also this blog sounds very self-focused. It is. It's my blog. But this feminism idea is not based on feminism for other people but rather feminism for myself. Today, I am declaring myself a rational feminist (a term coined by one of the Irish, actually, but I liked it and I'm taking it and making it mine). I have reasonable expectations for equality. I am not looking to outdo men, but rather to coexist peacefully with them.
Perhaps a rational feminist is then a humanist. More than being a woman, I am a human being.
Blah blah blah.
I am, however, already sick of feminist theory. We're what, a week into school?
By the way, this was all procrastination of Spanish homework. The Jesuits had no idea what they were getting themselves into when they decided to educate the whole person. I'm self-reflecting. This should count for credit hours. Education in action, no?

the promised link::
http://www.newsweek.com/id/232112

"It's a death thing, you wouldn't understand."

I remember the last night. I remember Dad leading me outside to where Chelsea lay in the grass. I remember petting his soft body.
And when the morning came, I remember running down the hall from my room into Mom and Dad's. I remember sobbing, sobbing, knowing he was dead. He was gone. That memory spins, it's strange. It slides around and around in my head, ending with my three-year old eyes seeing the ceiling from where I was laying on their bed.
That was my first experience with grief. It certainly wasn't my last, but maybe animalian grief doesn't translate to the grief of human loss.
Is human loss just like any other loss? Is all loss inherently the same?

I've never lost someone close to me.
I've been to many funerals; I've seen people throughout the stages of grief. I've attended the funerals of the old, very old, and the young, middle aged. And I won't lie, I've never felt anything.
One day, I'll have to give someone I love to the afterlife. I know it'll be painful.
My biggest fear, the most pervasive, the one that strikes me at the most unexpected moments, is the loss of my mother. That loss hopefully won't come for a long time, but even when it does, I won't be ready.

Lise is readying herself for the loss of her husband; it's been a drawn-out process. I've been unable to figure out how to properly comfort. I feel helpless, even though I'm so removed from the situation. I've decided to listen, asking a few questions here and there and then offering support. Support, hardly, just a few words promising strength and future. It's hard for me to know what to do. I'm caught with the web of life. My life-giver is losing a life partner and I'm unfamiliar with the procedure. It shouldn't be procedural though.

Death is death, it comes swiftly or slowly but never not at all. It is the single commonality for our race, for everything living. To have life, there must be death.
I'm not afraid to die, but I'm afraid to live through the deaths of the people I love. I'm afraid of the things left unsaid, of the moments redirected, spent elsewhere instead of there. Loss from which there can be no gain. Peace after time. It's all so simple but so unknown.

Grief is fragile, a beautiful reminder of life. It's both necessary and humbling, human and sublime.


*This was a weird post. It didn't go at all like I had planned it.

I re-read it and went back. This is from a moment that nearly mirrored Chelsea's death for me. Sixteen years passed between the two, but when I heard the news from Mom, I hung up on her. I threw the phone down and broke down, choking on my own tears.
Oh I'll never forget that day. I took the call in my room, staring at my dark blue sheets and wooden bed. The carpet. Brown carpet. Desk against the wall. Her voice in my ear. Silver phone. Hurt squeezing my heart. Rage.
Here, a bit of grief. My loss of words is evident, my shock and pain masked.

Thursday, October 11, 2007

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



*I don't edit things. I don't ever look over anything. I just do it and then it's done. But tonight, for some reason, I'm re-reading. I must have left something unsaid.
But not wanting to end on such a miserable note (not even sure why I made this a miserable post, I'm in a good mood), I wanted to include my favorite blog entry ever. And when I say ever, I mean it. Grief is one thing, but nostalgia can be nearly pure bliss. A fond memory, then.

Friday, December 14, 2007

Dear Mom,

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

Graduation is official!

I went downtown yesterday to do some mandatory academic advising, which consisted of me meeting with the assistant dean and  her telling me that I'm graduating. We went over the few discrepancies/requirements left on my transcript and got it all settled.
I told her I was sorry and she interrupted me before I could finish, saying, "You're dropping a minor aren't you?"
"No," I replied. "I'm adding another one. It's so late, I know."
She laughed and called me an overachiever to which I responded, no, I'm quite the underachiever, you'd be surprised.
All in all, I have the credits nearly completed and the requirements nearly done (my god I just need to pass statistics--which shouldn't be a horrible experience. I have no problem with tangible data, it's the process I can't do. Theorems escape me. I got from point A to point B, do I really need to know every step it took to get there?)
You are looking at a very nearly college graduate. I will have a major in Communication Studies with minors in English, Sociology and Women's/Gender Studies. ha, not bad considering this has been a wild four year run. Even with the Denver semester, I'm still going to be able to graduate on time (sort of...one summer class isn't bad) and then hopefully start school again in the fall.
I've decided to attempt to apply to DU for their MSW program starting in the fall. I may not have the experience, but I'm hoping to sway them with my writing skills which I consider on par with the greats. (The previous statement is a bold lie. I'm hoping they enjoy confidence or at least the pretense of it.) Anyway, if I don't get in (which I'm expecting will be the outcome), I'll stick to the original plan and get a job in DPS. However, if I get in (please, please) then I will be able to start the full-time two  year program in the fall.
I've been trying to get around doing it, but I just requested my transcripts from Loyola and need to do so from MSCD so it looks like I'm actually applying. I spent like two hours the other day trying to figure out how to write a curriculum vitae that makes me look like a thrilling, dynamic individual. On paper, I'm really lame. Personal interviews, however, are another thing. I'm engaging, entertaining, intelligent. Not really. But you know, it never hurts to try.

I'm procrastinating again. I should be reading the 30 pages of feminist literature I have due in an hour. But alas, I'm not.
 I found out yesterday that I not only have an ear infection but my first parking ticket of the year as well.
I'm getting nervous. This afternoon's task is write a resume (eek, I've done it before but for some reason it always leaves me feeling so inadequate), and then attempt to begin to tackle the seven page life response that they require. Other than that, it's just a check and some online forms I've already filled out. Pray for me or send me thoughts or something of a spiritual nature: I'll need it now more than ever.

Schedule

The morning has brought a much brighter outlook. Not necessarily sunny, but looking up.

I'm posting my schedule as much for me as for you.

Monday Wednesday and Friday:
-Fundamental Statistics at 11:30 -12:20  (STAT 103)

(The statistics class is the math core requirement, which has remained open after the logic fiasco.)

Monday nights:
-Advanced Reporting from 7:00-9:30 downtown (CMUN 315)

(Ugh. I swore I would never do anything journalistic again. I'm good at it, I just really hate reporting for some reason. I needed this class for the Civic Engagement Requirement --it was either that or a social work class that I couldn't make due to a Spanish conflict.)

Tuesday Thursday:
-Introduction to Women and Gender Studies 8:30-9:45 (WSGS 101)
-Feminism and Gender Topics 11:30-12:45 (ENGL 307)
-Spanish 1:00-2:15 (SPAN 102)

Thursday nights:
-Introduction to Social Work 7:00-9:30 downtown (SOWK 200)

(I just added this class today thinking that I don't need the human reproduction class that I was in, but instead, it might be nice to try out social work before I try to do it for a living. I don't know if you remember, but I was thinking about majoring in social work for awhile but then decided against it because communications offers such a broader spectrum of employment opportunities. While I'm not thrilled about having a Thursday night class, it opens up my afternoons so that I might be able to do some more volunteer work/get in a yoga class/do some more childcare.

Seeing it out for the first time makes it look easier than I had previously thought. I tried to add a seventh class so that I could just finish everything up and not have to take summer classes, but they're still blocking it. So I guess if I'm going to have to pay extra, I might as well wait until the summer to do it. I can do the first six week session (the second is out now because of jury duty and the big move) and then be done with it by the middle of June.

For a senior in college, there are a surprising amount of 101 classes. I know this. I finished my major so long ago and am just now cleaning everything up. I won't lie, I didn't do so well at the long term plan during my first couple of years of school. 

Life is strange and beautiful.

Before I get all moody as I am prone to doing, I'd like to share with you a travel tip I learned today: Don't correct TSA employees on their grammar, not even under your breath. They have sharp hearing. 


I sat in my car and sobbed, letting hot tears fall down my face and down under my chin.
I sat in the dark and in the cold and cried.
My fingers hurt, a pain extending form the core of my palms.
I know it's the exhaustion. I just need sleep and in the light of tomorrow I'll feel better. Easy enough, but not quite.

Life is strange and beautiful. I love being able to feel so deeply but I hate it. One of the biggest strengths to my character is my ability to truly feel the emotion I'm feeling. It's also the worst detriment. I love the exuberance of youth, the feel of an arm thrust out the window of a speeding car, the music, the mountains, the joy. I let myself feel it, unrestrained. And then I feel the equal but opposite reaction. The empty, the alone. Rebuilding. Renewing. blah blah blah I hate people who preach change but I'm holding onto that sentiment with all I have.

I'm here and there's so much to do. Simon looks terrible. The window is horrible. I can hardly see out of it. The car was not left in good condition---there's much cleaning to be done, both inside and out. The house, my room, the big black bag of clothes that desperately needs donated. Time is marching forward. Shopping for school supplies is a must do on the list for tomorrow.

Emily and I made dinner and are watching a movie.

Perseverance, however. I am applying to DU for fall admission. I don't want to wait a year. I may not get in, but at least I tried. If I am rejected, which I am fully expecting, I will spend the year building my experience base through volunteering and lots of field experience before reapplying next year.  So either way I'll be doing either DU or hopefully a DPS job.  Only problem is that I have ten days to get the application in. Deadlines, deadlines. I've enlisted Maddie as my unemployed life coach to help me get this all situated. Keep yours fingers crossed, dear readers.

48 hours.

I've got that same uneasy feeling I get before I go back to Chicago. Everytime. There is no state of mind that makes it any different. Whether or not I'm reluctant to go (which I usually am), it's always a sense of foreboding that fills me in the days leading up to my departure.
I've had so much fun being home. Last night, Val and Heidi and her dad and I played trivia. It was excellent. We won, and the judge developed a fondness for me based on my answer of "Wolverine (growl)" to a question about the largest in the weasel family in the US.
I've loved going out downtown. I will say that Denver's eligible bachelors are infinitely more attractive than the ones in Chicago and quite a bit nicer too. I wish...a few things but fate must have something up its sleeve. Perhaps not all is lost, but then again, I can never read the people that I need to the most. Character is one thing, intentions are completely another.
My senses are spinning. Especially now, when I know what lays in store for me for the next semester. The break up was horrible, not on my end, not at all, but for him. The way he's reacted to it has made me cringe at the thought of seeing any of our mutual friends. While the old adage, "stick and stones may break my bones..." seems to apply here, it's taken me all that I can do not to fire back. I've slipped once and have since received even worse treatment. I do not have to tolerate such abuse.
I thought everything would be done and over by the time I got back, thought that time would heal all wounds, but alas, it has not.  However, Simon has been put in the safekeeping of Madeline, so I feel a little bit better about that situation. I will be picked up from the airport on Sunday afternoon and will immediately be taken for drinks. Immediacy is the prescription for the evening, just as overcome and avoid has been the plan of action since Thanksgiving.
I'm hesistant to leave the house. (I just re-read that sentence and realized it sounds nutty. I am not hesitant to leave the house in terms of going outside, I am hesistant to leave because it's my home and has been for the last 18 years.) I'm hesistant to leave Mom alone for the next few months. I'm going to miss Katie (always).
I feel the loose ends piling up and I realize that there's nothing to be done but take flight and hope for the best.

48 hours until Chicago (give or take 1 hour).
4 days until classes resume.
6 weeks until I set foot back in Colorado.
4 months until I am a college graduate.
6 months until I move back to Colorado.
6 months until jury duty (thrilled).
7 months until I hopefully have a job with DPS.
18 months until I begin graduate school.

This semester is about me. I'm not going to let anyone dictate my terms. I'm going to eat all my vegetables, learn how bake, fight for something I believe in (this may mean finally joining the anti-death penalty people who always call), get straight As (I believe that this can be accomplished simply by doing my homework. What a novel idea), write, and learn how to love myself.

So wish me luck on the 8th leg of the grand adventure that has been Chicago. Let's hope the city saved the best for last (and by best I don't mean worst).

poetry

Youth poetry slam was thought provoking, but the thoughts that sprung to mind weren't necessarily brought on by the insights that the young poets were sharing. Insights, hardly. The repetition repetitively repeated itself until there was very little left to say. One poet, however, chose to perform a piece about chili-mac-and-cheese. Unique.

It was an enjoyable evening, dark wine to match the dark curtains hung behind the stage. Red like the lights draped across the ceiling. Wooden chairs, clustered young adults throughout a crowded room. Music from another room floated in as the waitstaff flitted back and forth, carrying clear pitchers of water.

Four performers, or five, maybe. I whispered the scores I'd have given, not really wanting to give scores at all. Poetry is such a personal art, I thought, held so close. Created, sometimes quite poorly with the worst of intentions. All writing is created with the worst of intentions, though; really, a self-serving selection of words, melodrama, lingering glances and forced emotional pain from which might spring personal growth, all set for a stage created and existing only in the author's mind. But that's where the beauty is. To see it is to connect, for a second, with the words they wrote, to feel them, almost, but barely, to know them.

Anyway, it's strange how so much of growing up can't be taught. I think that's what I drew from watching youth poetry. Think. Because I was so busy living somewhere else, I'm not entirely sure what I drew. Perhaps a million poems from now I'll know what I felt.
Listening to life experiences that can't be relived is beautiful, but then again, so is living.

I turned on the tv this morning to fall asleep and the movie "The Dead Poet's Society" was on. Do you remember going through that Walden Pond phase? Whew, I'll never forget senior year of high school. I embraced transcendentalism like a second skin, loving the possibilities that it offered. Even thinking about it now makes me smile. I seized the subject matter with such fervor, not wanting to wade through Emerson or Thoreau, but wanting to dive in. But the details have long been forgotten.

I emerged as we all must from that phase having realized that life cannot be lived in the mind. And thus, I had forgotten the rush that I felt as a lost teenager when the BRAND NEW NEVER BEFORE SEEN idea of "Carpe Diem" hit me. NO ONE had ever felt like that. NO ONE, NEVER. Ha, ha, it's sad to think that now I've realized that instead of being unique I was merely being another in the long line of people to embrace and then disregard (perhaps not entirely) the ideas that Emerson and Thoreau (among many others, including A.E. Waite - of Rider Waite Tarot card fame) put forth into the world.

I watched about five minutes of the movie before growing annoyed at everything: their actions, their ideas, etc. I turned on HGTV and learned how to stage a house for sale (arguably a better waste of time) and finally fell asleep, most definitely not seizing the day.

Some of that jumble of thoughts must have lingered because I woke up with the urge to go exploring. Instead, I walked the Highline Canal from Iliff through Fairmont and back. I know it's really morbid, but I love graveyards. They are so peaceful, so stunningly set apart from the rest of the surrounding city, so immense in their silence and calming in their sprawling, curving layouts. The path cuts through the cemetery, backing up to one of the mausoleums (I'm not sure that it's what they're called--those tall, flat, white wall-like structures?). As I passed, I heard a family crying as they buried one of their relatives. The pain was acute and although I felt it not for them in particular, I felt it for those who have to grieve and lose.

Life, for all its beauty, is an immense burden to bear.
To all of those in our family grieving, I extend my support. I'll not pretend to know your pain or even try to understand it.

Avery came over tonight, knocking at the back door in the dark.  She was wearing the tiniest little boots but had her pants pulled up past her knees. She proceeded to inform me that they may have gotten wet on the walk over. I opened it and she came in. "Where's Ms. Barry?" she asked. "At quilting class," I told her. "Oh, I came over to see you," she told me matter-of-factly.
We had hot chocolate and played with Barbies. I had to be Prince Erik, but it's alright. No less than three times did she say, "I love you, Katie." I would be Prince Erik or even one of the "mean ones" forever to get to hear her say that or even to hear her chatter away.

Also, completely unrelated to most everything in the blog: Please don't workout without a shirt. Especially indoors. This applies to all genders, races and age groups. yuck.

Blegh

T H E   F O R E H E A D   D O T
>
> Finally, someone has explained this.
>
> For centuries, Hindu women have worn a dot on their foreheads. Most of
> us have naively thought this was connected with tradition or religion,
> but the Indian Embassy in Washington , D.C. , has recently revealed
> the true story.
>
> When a Hindu woman gets married, she brings a dowry into the union. On
> her wedding night, the husband scratches off the dot to see whether
> he's won a convenience store, a gas station, a donut shop, a taxi cab
> or a motel in America .. If nothing is there, he must remain in India
> to answer telephones and provide us with technical support.
> 










I received the above forward in my Gmail inbox this morning and haven't been able to stop thinking about it since. It followed one that involved "brain tests" to see if we could spot something different in a group of the same. Guess which test was included? Spot the black president.

I won't say much because I know that I too am guilty of letting these things slip by unnoticed, but this is unacceptable behavior if we want to consider ourselves people of the world.

The most intelligent professor that I have had in my four years of college is an Indian woman. Slender with long dark hair and a beautiful smile, she stands in front of us not with a little red dot but with the knowledge of cultures, languages and literature that I can only dream of.

So stop putting everyone you know or meet or even talk about in a corner based on their history, race, culture, religion, etc. It's nasty, very un-neighborly behavior.

I think that this is a response to a comment I made at dinner the night about rape. I feel guilty. A sentence slipped out of my mouth that I regret saying, even thinking. And you know what, maybe what I was saying had some partial truth value but at the same time, it didn't need to be voiced. Every woman has a right to the sanctity of her own body and no matter who she is or what profession she may have taken on, no one should ever take that right away from her. That being said, the truth is the truth and no amount of distortion should be allowed to create a situation.

I'm in town until next Sunday -- I wanted to be able to get to Ft. Collins (which I now will be able to do!!) and get other stuff done. No real reason other than avoiding Chicago for the moment. Very mature, I know. We've got someone guesting on our couch and I am not in the mood to deal with visitors now, so hopefully that will all be over by the time I go back. I miss Simon, though, and desperately need to get him to a shop where he can be cleaned up. Apparently, Goo-Be-Gone (sp?) hasn't helped with the spray paint. I swear, I want to find that kid who did it and spray paint him.

Lunch Disaster

I couldn't get a good picture of Lola as she scampered around the bathroom after she jumped in, nor did I want to take one while she looked so miserable trying to escape, so I scooped a very soggy bunny out of the tub and set her on the floor. (Only her feet and a bit of her backside got wet, no worries about any bunny health problems.) 


Trying to explain Dad is like trying to explain nuclear fission to a two year old. You can scratch the surface, basically, but without a full understanding of the essential parts, you'll never quite grasp it. Nuclear fission may have been a bad example. I only understand the basics of that, so I certainly hope no two year old ever asks me about it. The little boys sometimes put me in that situation with parts of machines. Not being a four year old boy or a mechanic, I don't understand how the combine works. They don't want an overview, they want the in depth analysis. This is why I love Google.

Ah, but that's not what lunch was about, not nearly.
We went nearby to sit somewhere quiet. On a Friday afternoon, nowhere is quiet shortly after noon. However, as expected, there was very little said between us. Things took a turn for the worse after some comments were made that offended me, so I responded. And the response went somewhere I wasn't prepared for it to go: the past.

There are many things that should never been said to a child, not even to a teenager. There are many things that no child/teenager (for the purpose of this whole rant, a teenager is a child) should ever overhear or be forced to listen to. 

The plane flight might be delayed. I don't want to go back. I don't want to stay here. It's too bad I can't spend the week tucked away somewhere warm or even flying from place to place. I had thought that this was going to be an easy semester to begin, but then again, I thought wrong. I think we're 8/8 on that count.

Katie is coming!! We will be reunited tomorrow night!!

I'm also in the middle of emailing to get out of jury duty. I'm really bummed out that I won't be able to do it yet, but there's always another time.

Hopeful, I guess, but I'll take what's left.

My time left in Denver is drawing to a close, and for the first time in a long time, I'd say that I'm reluctant to go.

I feel as though this break has been exactly the push that I need to start taking advantage of the fact that I'm about to make huge life decisions in the next few months to a year. I've spent the last six months or so terrified of what comes next, and even though I'm going to lie and say I'm okay with it now, I'm not. I won't be. But I'm going to shove ahead and hope for the best.
However, on the bright side, things have made me realize that everything will work out fine. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself; Chicago taught me that. I know what I don't want. I am starting to figure out what I do want.

Anyway, I have a list in my head that includes things I'd like to do for myself this semester. Just for me. (I am hoping that this semester, albeit lonely, might be as pleasant as the spring semester that I spent in Denver.)
Yoga--studio like three blocks from my apartment, walking-in the freezing cold snow weather, more frequent trips down the bike path to the Peace Garden (I profiled it in one of my videos for production last year...perhaps you've seen it), sleep, homework --last semester I set foot in the library for maybe the fourth time since I've been at Loyola-- this semester I have scheduled in breaks in which to concentrate on homework, de-cluttering (I put this on the list even though I know it won't ever get done. I feel like it's been on every list since my birth), and lastly, writing. The idea of freelancing is seductive to me. Somewhere in there I'd like to expand my babysitting career as well, but I'll take what I can get.

My goal is also to write a more direct, thoughtful blog. And by that, I think I just mean more pictures. I'm going to embark on a journey to photograph the Chicago that I know and love, and the Chicago that drives me nuts. Perhaps that will be my writing assignment. I'm assuming I'll be out and about a lot this semester since my Civic Engagement core requirement is being met with Advanced Reporting. I was really hoping to get out of Loyola without going any further down the Journalism path, but at least Connie Fletcher isn't teaching it.

Even though it's nothing like senior year of high school, when I was poised to make another big change, it is exactly like that. I feel a pull, something telling me I belong back here. The decision is so solid, has been, that I know that it's the right thing to do. I think life is holding out on me. I just wish it'd tell me what it wants, but I'm off on that journey blindly. But I'm all or nothing, so here's both all and nothing.

The post New Years' post

It was perfectly casual, an evening of conversation. It felt good to just be. I came home and ran a hot bath and finished the 6th Harry Potter book re read. Perfect night.

A decision seems to have been reached. Simon will most likely stay in Chicago until May, at which point he will be driven back to Denver. There is always spring break. We are considering all other options but as this point, there's not enough time and the danger level is too high to do a quick turnaround sort of adventure. (For the record, I'm still offering to do it myself, but my pleas have been silenced).

The potty training of the rabbit might be going better than anticipated, but probably not.

A nap is in order.

Blue Steel

Mom's phone (above) -- my phone (below)

Yesterday was an eventful day.
I got a phone call before nine informing me that Simon had been vandalized. Someone spray painted " = pain" all over the driver's side window.
After hearing that, there were tears and a plan was set into action. I'm going to get him; I'm not letting him sit in Chicago anymore. He's been hurt so much and I'm not going to let that continue. The white car (Mike's) had been sitting in the front of the house, so it's being looked at. If it's not horribly expensive to repair, I'll be driving it to Chicago to pick up Simon. I'll leave his car there and keep it until graduation in May. After that, it's his again and I'll be biking where I need to go.
As most trouble goes, there's always something worse, and for me it was dealing with the police. Hunter tried to file a report and was turned away. I tried several times and was met by rude police officers and trouble the whole way.
After that, Mom and I decided to go to Verizon. Mom has been in need of a phone for about a year now and we are finally able to get a new one with the whole new 2 year agreement deal. I will say that Verizon has the best national service. I always have reception when my friends don't, except of course, where there is no service to be had.
Hunter has to stand by a window in his basement apartment. I can sit wherever.
Anyway. Mom wanted the EnV3, a phone that has a full keyboard on the inside as well as a regular keypad on the front. We went in to get it and look around.
Verizon is running a deal where you can get one phone free when you buy certain phones. We were looking at a Blackberry or the EnV3 (I needed a new phone too!).
Turns out, I was up for an upgrade as well!!
Some poor Verizon guy spent about an hour and a half with us, getting us all set up to do everything we needed to do on our new phones. Mom got email and internet on her phone for $3 per month (sweet!). I got a great deal, however, I am paying about 10x more than Mom for unlimited internet. My phone has Twitter (which I will be using more: www.twitter.com/katiemarybarry) - I can't blog on there, I tried-, Facebook, Gmail, everything else.
So of us ended up satisfied and quite happy with our new phones; they each do everything that we need them to do.
I am also enthralled with the customer service at Apple. They are amazing. We returned my printer and it may have been the easiest thing I've ever done.
Then we went and had dinner together.
Overall, a better ending to a day that had a miserable start. Simon is parked in front of my apartment, and while I'm not looking forward to driving cross-country in a Dodge Neon in early January, I will do anything to get him safely home.

Post Christmas Post

I hope that everyone's Christmas was as beautiful as mine was. Quiet and snow-filled.
There's a lingering sadness intertwined with the beauty of the season. It reminds me that after May, there is no plan, no set direction. And with that, I am off again on the adventure that will be my life. Here, abroad, I can go anywhere. Of course, anywhere is a strange place, but perhaps better than nowhere.

I'll be getting a new coat and for that, I am thrilled.

Being home is beautiful.
There's nothing quite like it.

Today, Madeline and I went back to Mullen to see all of the teachers.
It was strange. My name is on a banner for people who have received a 5 on the AP tests; it says "Katherine M. Barry - English Language." Impressive, not really, but exciting, yes.

Mr. Hilbert keeps a database of all of his former students. He had to go back and search for me, but he remembered that he'd taught my brother and that my dad had often been in to ask about him. Wonderful. Great. Not remembered for my own achievements but for my father's annoyance.
He updated his little database after telling me that the last time he saw me was in May of 2006. His room hasn't changed. Words are painted on the walls and his collection of books remains. The file folders live on wire shelves against the back wall.

....
too tired. Getting sick.

2000s party!

Not me!



Ha, the party wasn't really a party after all, but my costume was epic. (Maybe not, but I was stoked). Joaquin Phoenix is an amazing actor (he was in Gladiator, um, recently Walk the Line) who went crazy (apparently, but the hoax possibility reigns) and then went on Letterman before disappearing out of the public eye.

These are the pictures.

Snowy day!

I blame everything on dehydration. I don't think I'm that wrong either. I feel as though proper hydration is essential to good body function. It's finals week, which means sodium and carbs, the only foods that make a body feel happy. I've been eating to fill the emotional void I've created, and although it's pleasant, it's not necessarily a good thing. So tonight I'm beginning the fruit and tea kick in an attempt to make my body love me again. Wish me luck.

That said, I fell asleep last night at 8 pm, shortly after kickoff, and slept through the game. It was a beautiful nap, and I slept last night but not well. 7am came quickly and I opened my eyes in a cold to apartment to the first snow of the season.

Ugh, of course I couldn't find any of my snow scrapers, even though I know they're there, just hiding. Got my windows done and got to work on time. The little boys of course didn't want to wear boots or coats or hats. So we went outside. Within minutes, the whining began. Luckily for me, I'd brought coats and boots and gloves and hats. And we bundled up and went on our way. They are four and just don't listen. One of them ran across a busy street today, thank god there weren't any cars. Normally they're so good about it, and normally I get so mad at parents who can't keep their kids on the sidewalk, but when I'm trying to cross a six-lane road with three kids, two of whom aren't in a stroller, it gets difficult. So parents, I apologize for screaming at you from inside my car where you can't hear me, or judging you as a bad parent. You're probably trying.

Exhaustion. Sleeping in tomorrow and it will be wondrous!

300th post? Also, Loyola

I was under the impression that this was going to be the 300th post, but it might be the 301st. Either way, we'll pretend to celebrate 300 entries of emotion and excitement and the cities that I love.

First of all, I would like to make a comment on the way that Chicago has changed me. Mustard. I love mustard now. Chicago is not a ketchup city. Of course, we eat it here, but the Chicago-style hot dog is covered in mustard. And if it can be eaten with mustard, it is. It must be a Midwest thing, but mustard is a staple here.

I've also noticed that my taste in foods is changing as I age. Right now, I'm all about tomatoes. Seriously love tomatoes. I want them on everything. I was eating stewed tomatoes out of the can the other day. And maybe that's not all bad. I've always loved to eat fruit, but I'm also really getting into vegetables. Not just salad, but the pure tastes of all vegetables.

I made breaded pork chops last night. I really don't like pork, but I was excited to have a chance to bread some meat. I love to bread things, but I'm still learning. Egg. It's all about the egg. That was a new addition to my repertoire, Hunter's roommate Adrian taught me the other night when we made meatballs.

I had made some cranberry sauce (cranberries are on sale right now and I'm buying them up and freezing them!) to put on my pork chops, which made them mostly edible. We also had red potatoes that I smashed with butter and a little bit of whole milk, then salted and peppered. Yum.

I'm dyeing my hair tonight! Dark dark brown. I'll post pictures.

Don't make airline reservations yet! Loyola seems to have lost my application for graduation. There's an email into the School of Communication, so we'll see what they say. My credits do all line up for walking in May and for receiving my degree in August. Ugh. Not the best news to receive on a Friday night. But...I double checked in October and it said- there's already a valid graduation application in. So, here's hoping that it will all get worked out.

I'm going out with Maddie and Katie and Anna tonight--even though I've not been doing enough lately to prepare for finals (I seem to have completely lost my motivation)---I'm going tonight to relax and just go out and be. Tomorrow noon will see me ensconced in the library working on my Monday final.

The cold has landed. Hopefully there will be pictures from the evening.

Claude

I've officially decided on a name: Simon's Little Brother, Claude, but we'll just call him Claude.

The last story for fiction as well as the BDSM ethnography are both available at my Tumblr account, www.katiebarry.tumblr.com

Spanish final today, then preparation for my speech Monday, then rewriting stories, writing a segment of a final script and then finishing a Drug Abuse Control class assignment will round out my day today. (Long!) Looking to the weekend: I see relaxation. Tuesday or Thursday brings the Spanish final final (although today is the listening final), then the DAC final Friday. That one will need a good amount of preparation, but I can spend all week doing that.

Colorado, Colorado.

There's really no place like home.

I stole this picture off of Google.

This started out as an attempt to update my blog, but is ending in misery. I cannot form coherent sentences at the moment, thus I cannot aptly describe the scene I was intending to discuss.

But alas, safe in Chicago, busy busy.

Salad.

First post from the new computer! It's been less than 24 hours and it hasn't really set in yet, but I know that I'm so grateful for the opportunity to be able to get a new computer. I'm really settling in to the Mac lifestyle and am excited for greater ease of use. The good news is that I got to avoid the new Windows operating systems.

The above picture is the salad that Hunter and I made the other night. I think this picture is before we added the meat (bacon for me, steak for him) and the croutons (always necessary for a huge salad).

Anyway, this is quick. I'm just testing out my new keyboard. It's going to take some adjusting to but it feels so nice.

I'm beginning the process of installing all of the software. It's going to be interesting and so very exciting.

I'm thrilled.

Thanks so much to everyone who helped make this possible, so much appreciation!

Happy Thanksgiving, a better post to come.

Blast from the Past

If you Google Map our house, you can see the Green Bean. Brought back some beautiful memories for me.

I was halfway productive today. I make chicken salad with grapes and celery and tarragon and then put it on a sandwich with some cranberry sauce spread (freshly made!) and lettuce. It was delicious. I felt really proud of myself for turning frost-bitten chicken into food. Really proud.
I've decided that I want to start cooking to sort of give myself some new meaning. I've always really wanted to do it and now that I have so much free time, I want a new hobby.

Hunter and I officially actually ended things today. It's just not something that's going to fix itself. I won't say much, but I deserve someone who wants to work to be with me and who challenges me to be a better person, mentally, socially, etc.

I am having pre-Thanksgiving tomorrow night. I bought a turkey. Oh dear, it's going to be an interesting day tomorrow. Something tells me I'm going to be defrosting the turkey in the bathtub tomorrow morning. Apparently, it needs like three days to defrost. Great. Learned that 30 hours before it's being served. So I'm going to have to come up with a plan.

Cannot wait to be home.

blah, blah, blah,

I'm currently in the middle of writing a short film. It's about a fertility-challenged couple. The wife has an affair, and surprise, ends up pregnant (because it's totally his fault they can't have children) and then they have to deal with it. Is it a blessing or a curse? I don't know yet. I'm only at page 13. I'll let you know when I get there.

So Ireland might be out for spring break. I might go alone, though. That could be an interesting adventure. Something tells me Mom won't go for that, but trust me, the Irish is/are worth the trans-Atlantic flight. We are for sure going in the summer. I will sell all of my possessions (except Simon, he's mine) to get there. I'm fixated.

So excited to get my new computer. In all honesty, the whole week has been spent either fixated on the break up with Hunter (of course we're trying to figure it out. He loves me. I love him. We just don't work anymore. So we're trying to work), Ireland (one of the reasons we're not working, my god, he's perfect) and my brand new computer! I still haven't decided what I'm going to name it. The last one was Fluffy. This one might be Leonard.

Steel Magnolias in the theater is just as effective as it was on film. Cried my eyes out. Sobbed like a child. Snot on my sleeves sobbed. Man, if Mom ever needed a kidney, I couldn't give her one. I'd totally sell mine though, so that's a plus. Maybe it would help.

Took a nap earlier and consequently am not tired at 1:30am. Need to be up at 7, so I do believe I should get to bed. Can't. Still writing my affair script. Not putting it all together properly, but it's a start.

Like the Bus

As if in an instant, there was nothing left of me.
My shell floats from room to room,
back and forth, away again,
as though it wants to be somewhere.
The hollow feeling centers me.
Still. Solid as a cold stone statue,
made immobile by man,
as I was.
Wind and cold register inside my home,
I feel them but then I don't.
The only hurt is my eye,
I've forgotten about my heart,
is it still curled there, somewhere?
Twisted inside layers of deep flesh;
it was once, I remember.
How can it hurt this much?
It shouldn't.
Saw it coming, like the bus.
Stepped on, stepped off
now lying dead gathering road dust.
Crushed.
Rendered motionless.
Surrounded by the present,
surrendering to the past or future,
either, both, at once.
First kisses, children, little smiles,
shoulders warm, now cold.
Heartbreak.
Stomachache.
The shattering of everything.
Cold insistence.
Selfish pain.
Blind panic, terror.
Tears came all day,
they wouldn't stop, they came every way.
Off the tip of my nose, round my cheeks,
over chapped pink lips to fall off my chin.
They didn't stop.
They fled down my shoulders, my pillows, my fingertips.
They fell, there's nothing left.

oh, just break up stuff.

Perhaps it was unexpected, but late last week, Hunter and I decided to take a break. I called him Thursday night, after he'd told me he was having doubts about the relationship and told him I thought we needed some time apart.
So that's what we're doing. In all honesty, I've been trying to figure out what went wrong and I'm not exactly sure, but I do know that I haven't been happy in awhile.
We're best friends, but are we right for each other? I'm taking the time to figure it out.
He wants to get back together, and I hate to hurt him, but right now, I'm not sure I want to be in a relationship.

I decided to take the weekend for myself, and sort of just let everything be. I've been relaxing, accomplishing nothing and laying around. It's been rejuvenating and I don't regret it for a moment.

On that note, I do need to get some cleaning done.

Infinite Sadness.

Mom told me that she was proud of me today. It meant a lot. I wish I could explain it. It's like validation, something like that coming from someone I respect so much.

I'm currently mired in the mess that is cleaning my room. I've been stopping and going and stopping and going, allowing myself to be distracted by anything and everything. But, things are moving, albeit rather slowly.
The clothes are a three foot mound on my bed. Getting rid of them will feel so good. A donation solution to my problem.

I've been overwhelmed lately. Bogged down. Restless. Misguided. Tired. Unproductive. I'm looking forward to the end of the semester, although I feel as though there is so much to do before then! Thanksgiving break is going to be a nice break for me.

This blog was a distraction tool for me that failed. I have so far written not one productive sentence and am assuming that I won't.

My speech went well on Monday. I got up there and glared him down so hard. He had previously told me that I had poor eye contact. That and he wasn't sure why we don't honor Lincoln (as in, the dead president) more. But mostly poor eye contact. So, I gave him looks that should have turned his eye contact meter to stone. And I smiled at the rest of the class. Mandatory minimum sentences for drug offenders, consider yourself erased!

Ha, but seriously, wait for my blog about drugs. I've got some radical ideas about legalization of ALL drugs. Stoked on it. Want to devote my life to at least the legalization of marijuana. I guess I can do that after my kids go to college.

On a completely opposite note, I bought some sweaters at Target. They are so mature. I look like I've never broken a rule in my life.

Also, as I was cleaning my room, I found a bunch of incomplete thank-you notes. So here's the lamest group thank you ever. I promise (keep in mind its an internet promise) to personally do something nice for each and every single person who's done something nice for me. I was thinking something along the lines of cookies and flowers, but who knows. Those gas cards/just-saying-hi cards/chocolate covered almonds [amazing]/cute little candles/blue-orange glasses/anything makes my days.

Perhaps maybe Simon can have a car wash this week? (ooh, not pushing it)

I built a shelf all by myself! I know that's lame, but the directions said "2 people."

Ugh, can you tell I'm buying time?

I want to be swept away, romantically speaking.

Chicago, Chicago, let me go

I guess I've failed anyone who reads this blog. I always intended it as a place of thoughts, and instead I find myself dropping my frustrations and daily activities into it out of duty. I owe you thoughts, I owe you my rational observations of the city I live in.
I attempted to start a blog about Chicago and the things I've learned from it. I failed in that.
I wish I could capture the moments that I see everyday, whether it's the woman who sits begging for change by the church or the way the el slides away from the station. I wish I could capture the urgency of the city, the anger, the hidden histories. And perhaps I'll try harder and get better at it and be able to fully explain my journey here.
Because it has been a journey.
I get teased about the state I was left in the first time I landed here, my very first day of college, a skinny lost freshman crying. I found a little white beanie bear that mom left for me, but it wasn't any help. It made it worse.
That night, I threw up in the common bathroom, the sound echoing through the halls of my floor. My roommate, Ashley, who now has a baby girl about three months old, came in excited. "There's a bulimic girl on the floor!" she exclaimed.
"No," I replied. "That was just me."
Since, I've traveled back and forth. I've never really felt at home here, I won't lie. Perhaps the decision to come to Chicago has never settled properly on my shoulders. I have loved it. Chicago is a place I hope everyone has the chance to experience at some point in their lives. It's also a sick, twisted city, a place of broken dreams and broken hearts. I wonder if I'll ever find the pieces of myself I've lost here.
I've kept coming back, kept leaving, repeated that pattern as necessary. But to what end? I see the final end now: we're coming up on it. May. But then it extends again, a broken promise. Rome? Not anymore, perhaps. Then June, July. Definitely at August's approach, I shall be once again moving somewhere west, somewhere familiar, somewhere home.
I've gained my freshman fifteen, lost it, and gained some again. I've settled. I've been in love, once or twice here, always finding it lacking. Hunter loves me, that much I know. I guess I love him, but what do I know? I've been struggling, wanting something else, knowing I can't just jump ship and fly to where I want to be.
Is somewhere else the dominant theme in my life? Will it always be someone else, somewhere else? Me wishing I was somebody else?
I find that I am rooted in myself, and in that, I take comfort.
I trust myself, but I'm unsure of my direction. Where does life go? What now? I was talking to an old friend who's finally enrolled in DADC after years of jostling around. Upon hearing about my guidance counselor aspirations, he tells me he's sure I'm selling myself short. And maybe he's right.
Here I am, ready to go, ready to hop away again, but I have no plan, as usual.
Unsteady, unsure. How can I convey all of those thoughts to my readers (all three of them)? How can I tell you that I wonder a hundred times a day if what I've done is good enough? If the path I'm on is the right one?
I promise, I try so hard. I've fallen into melancholy lately, unsure, unsteady, unhappy. Very unhappy. It's as though every week is a struggle, a race to the end. To Friday. To sleep. To what? To another week, oh dear.
I got what I was waiting for last night, the communication missing from my daily routine. I hadn't realized how much I missed it until I had it, and now it's gone again.

Oh to have everything I dream of, wouldn't that be beautiful?

Enter November

Enter November. This was a very socially productive weekend, although one that saw nothing school or life related accomplished.
Maddie and I went out on Friday night. I dressed as Snow White and she as musician Lady Gaga. (She made a bow on her head made entirely out of her own hair. It was an impressive feat.) We went to the bars near Wrigley Field and ended up meeting up with Hunter, his friend Brian and Trif.
That was definitely the wildest night of the week; we ended up meeting some absolutely crazy people.
Saturday, I was sort of all partied out, but dressed up as a black widow. (You'll note it's the same dress from last Halloween. That was $12 well spent.) We went to a house party, but it was literally so packed you couldn't move. So we ended up back at my house.
Today, I have a migraine and am parked on the couch.
Bad news: camera isn't working correctly. Good news: still under warranty. I will call them this week and hopefully get it fixed. If not, I need to find my Costco card so that I can return it.
Either way, not so great news. But on the plus side, I have not lost it or done anything to damage it. I feel as though Halloween isn't usually a good day for cameras. Freshman year, mine was stolen in a bar.

I've realized that the theme of most crime committed against me is theft.
-robbed at DQ
-bike
-camera
-computer
Those are pretty big ticket items. Lame.
Here's to karma, because I know it's real. Somewhere, some unlucky thief is getting everything they deserve.


The next two weeks are going to be rather hellish, but I need to accomplish a few goals.

-Graduate school applications
-Get Rome stuff ready (if it's a go)
-Make an appointment with my guidance counselor---register for classes
-Figure out when all of my finals are so I can get Christmas tickets
-Write my bondage paper
-Pass speech class--I have a speech to give next week, unfortunately
-Do a general cleaning of car, home and room--get my life in order
and finally, and on an upbeat note,
-finish the novel I've been reading.

I hope you all had a wonderful Halloween. I look forward to getting to see everyone at Thanksgiving.

I was thrilled to be able to have two costumes and to only spend about $30 this year. I bought tights, a cape and a bouquet of black roses. The cape took up most of the budget, but I do believe that it will be a very viable piece for costumes throughout the rest of my life.

Also, once I am able to upload photos from my camera (it may be Thanksgiving) but....I was at the grocery store with Maddie and Hunter. I jokingly said, "Let's steal some pumpkins." It turns out that they were free. We loaded up my car with them and took them home and carved them. Mine is a sort of owl-ish looking creature. It's surprisingly adorable. I put little candles in him last night and he was the centerpiece of my decorations.

I walk for graduation on Friday (I think it's the 13th of May but that might be a lie) night. So if you are looking to come to Chicago to hear my name called and then come and have cake, then perhaps this might be news you'll be interested to hear.

But...it's halloween weekend! I am thrilled, obviously and am hoping to make it a great Halloween. I'm hosting an afterparty that doesn't start until midnight Halloween night, so I guess technically after Halloween is over.

Blah, raining and I'm late for bondage night.

Another explosion of quickly scribbled information

It's like I blink and my weekend is gone.
Friday night, I met Maddie downtown for free happy hour at Embassy Suites. (Here's the secret: Save your Embassy Suites room keys.) Prior to that I had gone shopping for new pants at Forever 21 (I also got a beautiful blue fleece jacket/coat for like $30). I also bought some boots, but am sad to say that they don't fit (way too big) and I'm hoping I'll be able to return them. (Grrr...)
Then we went to Wrigleyville and settled ourselves at a bar to watch the Nuggets game. We were pretending to be each other based on the experience at the Embassy Suites where we pretended (not well, mind you) that we were from Fontier Airlines and were in town for a conference. It didn't go great, but we talked some Irish guy into buying us shots. (ha, don't ask. His green card -read Ireland, but we still didn't believe him, my eyes--they're gorgeous, apparently (ha), and a girl trying to sell us chewing tobacco --ew) We went home to find Hunter waiting for us to play poker. I lost badly due to my somewhat impaired state, but slept soundly.
You might have noticed that dinner didn't figure into my night's plans, and thus Saturday was a hellish day. By last night, I was feeling a bit improved so I went over to Hunter's and played hostess to his party. My book that I'm reading is so amazing, I read until 3 in the morning. (The Angel's Game by Carlos Ruiz Zafon.)
Tonight, trivia.
Today, football and online poker.
Tomorrow, return to the real world: babysitting, Speech class and then homework.
Tuesday: story due. (Haven't started writing it yet, ooops.)
Wednesday: just class thank god. (I ran into my professor at Borders and she told me that my midterm looked good, so that's a plus.)
Thursday: espanol
Friday: screenwriting and I'm on my way to another weekend.
(This week looks much better than last week as far as due dates are concerned)
Also, a netbook is out. I went and looked at them. They're dinky. I want a MacBook Pro (the mid-sized one), so I'm going to wait it out and save up to get one. In the meantime, I'm hoping to get Katie's old comptuer at Thanksgiving.

Week Update.

As usual, it's Tuesday and I'm desperate for Friday.
But this week, it seems that if I can survive Wednesday, I'll be alright. So tomorrow I have a test and a midterm and then a paper due by midnight, all of which I'm trying to get done right now in the library. As usual, I'm having problems concentrating, but it's something that I feel has been eased by not having a computer.
I'm wracked with guilt if I check my Facebook or if I go to the lame blogs that I like to read about fashion or celebrities when I'm in the library, so I feel like this is a chance to really get some work done.
Last night, Hunter and I went over to our friend's Nick and Emily's house (grammer check here: if it is the house in which they both live, where does the apostrophe go? after Emily? or after both? I say after Emily but a girl in my class disagrees. Any help would be appreciated.) to watch the football game. I made Halloween cookies.
The whole weight battle that I seem to be undergoing might be in my head. I think it's less than 10 pounds and I realize that everyone goes through periods of their life when being super skinny just isn't an option. I went all veggie for a few days last week and I seemed to feel, if not look, better. So maybe it's all about hydration and less sodium but in all honesty, it's stress mostly right now. I know I'll be stressed for the rest of my life but I'm not going to add stress by trying to dictate what I can and cannot eat. Hunter still thinks I look beautiful, so if he's fine, I'm fine. Also, I wore different pants (my others were already a bit small and shrink in the dryer) and I feel better about that too.
Sorry.
I'm looking into getting a netbook. It's like a mini-computer. It'd be something that I'd have for awhile and then possibly give to Mom (she has no idea of this plan, but I like the sound of it) when I get a new computer. But....that was just a thought. They look like they run under $400, which would be a good thing, especially since this whole not having a computer thing is getting really lame. I'd be able to do homework at home instead of having to be in school to get it done, something that I'd love. Also, Emily is going to be paying me the rest of the security deposit money (from when we moved into our apartment) soon and I would be able to get one with that money. So I'll be looking into it a little more.
Weather holding steady in the fifties. I'm glad of that. I always seem to forget that the weather in Chicago usually holds at moderate until mid-November, when it definitely takes a turn for the worse. I'm unprepared as usual this year, but am finding that problem very far down on my list of things to do.
I have a new novel at home, so even though I'd love to sit and chat (ha,) I must attend to my homework before my brain exhausts itself and needs to remain dormant until tomorrow.

Moody, but what's new?

drink up, baby down
mmm, are you in or are you out
leave your things behind
'cause it's all going off without you
excuse me, too busy you're writing your tragedy
these mishaps
you bubble wrap
when you've no idea what you're like

so let go, jump in
oh well, whatcha waiting for
it's alright
'cause there's beauty in the breakdown
so let go, just get in
oh, it's so amazing here
it's alright
'cause there's beauty in the breakdown

it gains the more it gives
and then it rises with the fall
so hand me that remote
can't you see that all that stuff's a sideshow

such boundless pleasure
we've no time for later now
you can't await your own arrival
you've 20 seconds to comply

so let go, jump in
oh well, whatcha waiting for
it's alright
'cause there's beauty in the breakdown
so let go, just get in
oh, it's so amazing here
it's alright
'cause there's beauty in the breakdown
-Frou Frou


(Those lyrics are on one of the greatest soundtracks ever: The Garden State soundtrack. In high school, during those oh-so-emotionally-tenuous years, I'd put on a hot bath and sit there with my portable CD player [and then later, my iPod] and just let the songs take me away. That sounds incredibly cliche, I know, but what was my adolescence but one huge cliche really? That's not true, but you understand.)

I'm sure you've heard the good news by now: pre-cancer free! I'm thrilled to death. Not quite to death, but close enough.

Stress, as usual. Skipped Spanish today to sleep. Haven't missed it yet and it's well past Fall Break. Consider that a small success.

Hunter and I have been together a year today. I still remember cropping Ian out of a picture so that I could post it here. It's a picture of him kissing my cheek long before he'd ever put the thought of us together. We are escaping for a weekend away in Northern Wisconsin, leaving tomorrow at noon. I wish I could say I'll post pictures, but I'll take them, I promise.

I got the book I've been waiting for today! It came in the mail (I couldn't wait for it come out in hardcover but wouldn't dream of spending $30 on it, so I ordered it off of half.com). It's called "The Angel's Game" and it's by the same author who wrote "the Shadow of the Wind," Carlos Ruiz Zafon. If you need anything to read ever, read that book. It brought my love of language back.

Anyway, off to bondage night at the Club. Want so desperately to post pictures.

Feeling much better healthwise. I've decided to cut as much sodium as possible (problematic as I love salt) and up the fiber. So lots of vegetables. But that's not been horrible. Squash tonight. It's in the oven right now.

I have decided that when I have the money, I'm going to get a MacBook Pro. It's the same computer that Mike has, and I think it'll serve me well. More on that later, though. I would like to contain my excitement as the purchase is a long way off. I'm just frustrated because I feel so set back. I was planning on spending my graduation money (let's not lie, graduation is the perfect time for gifts. not in a greedy way, but reality) on my summer in Europe, but right now, it seems like that's not even in the cards anymore. I'm devastated, but I understand that life has a way of trying to tell you things. So I need to focus on next year and perhaps a summer in South America instead of Rome.
Hunter promised me that if we ever get married, he'll take me to Rome. (don't tell him I told you that.)

Lost again.
I feel like it's becoming a theme. I get my life sort of put together and then it all falls apart.
School is slowly pulling me under, threatening to hold me at the bottom until I can't breathe and then there's the rest of my life which is pulling me in every other direction possible.
Obligation after obligation.
I need sleep.

I'm trying to go back to healthy eating as a means of counter balancing my other not so great life choices such as beer. It's tough but interesting. More info on that to come. Tonight I made brussels sprouts with butter and maple syrup (so sort of maple butter when it all comes together). They're not bad. That and pomegranate. Pomegranates are expensive fruits but they are so good, I just can't help myself. High in fiber and in fun.

Ah, but the library calls for group work (I so detest group work) and then homework. Tomorrow brings Simon's way-overdue oil change and the preparations for the weekend in Wisconsin. I cannot wait until Friday.

Goodbye, sony

Exhaustion. There's no other word for it.

My bones are tired. My eyes are tired. I think I'm getting a hunchback. I'm coughing, a light, endless cough that seems to be rooted in nothing.

Emily wants her Mom's company to tell me the value of my laptop. Ha, not until I print out every upgrade that it had. Not until the processor is accounted for, not until the new hard drive is accounted for, not until the new copy of Windows, etc. Frustrated. Not trying to rip her off, just want to be treated fairly. She's got nothing to say still. Apparently she had $300 taken from her room. I'm sympathetic, I really am, but not enough to forget this whole ordeal. I mean, I understand where it sucks to be in her position right now. I'm not going to ruminate on it other than to tell you that I do feel bad. But I feel bad every minute of every day since I got back. I miss my pictures, I miss my music, I miss not having to sit in the library to type. I lost a lot more than she did that night, without even knowing about it.
And funny enough, a simple phone call to tell me we were having people over would have led to me asking her to move my laptop. But that didn't happen.
On a related note, I came home a couple of days after the theft to find the backdoor wide open. Swinging in the wind. I locked it and haven't said anything; it doesn't really matter, at this point I've not much left to steal. I have been double checking when I leave and when I come in though.

Want this week to be over. So much homework to get through. Leaving to go to Wisconsin on Friday; will be spending the weekend there with Hunter at the cabin. Will be nice to get away. Don't have to worry about leaving anything behind, I have nothing to leave.

Looking at getting a Mac to replace the computer I lost. Will depend on their protection plan. (Warranty, work, etc) The MacBookPro might be too expensive (nearing $3000 with necessary upgrades), might just go with the MacBookAir ($2400).

Don't want to deal.

I just re-read that post, and it sounds forlorn, melancholic. But it is. That's where I'm at right now. It's an attempt at survival. It's not as easy as it sounds, even though I'm a university student at a urban campus. I'm missing things lately. Missing people, missing faces, places, memories, grasping for them desperately, losing them. Direction, too, seems to have gone away. where? there is no answer, only progress.

At least I have an A in Spanish.

More information to come later, but at this moment I am sad to report the theft of my laptop.
I returned home late Tuesday evening to find that Emily had invited people that she did not know over for a party and that sometime during Monday night, my laptop was stolen.
I have filed a police report and am hoping that the thief tries to sell it at a pawn shop, but it's not looking good.
I will be posting a reward and signs all over the neighborhood (none of the people at the party went to Loyola but rather were friends of a friend of Emily's [I called bad vibes on this girl the minute I met her] from work) hoping that maybe they'll come forward.

Four years of school work, as well as pictures and music are gone. I am truly sick over the loss but am trying to look on the bright side. Thus far, I have found none.

Sadness. I am thinking that right now, Rome may not be an option either.

Emily has offered me her laptop in exchange, but I am refusing as it is not equivalent to the value of the computer that was stolen from me. Mine is still under warranty and I believe is therefore worth every penny that I paid for it. We will have to work together to come up with a suitable plan that is fair for both of us.

I feel bad for her, but she made the choice to invite strangers into our home and now will have to face the consequences of that decision. I know that it puts us all in a bad situation and I am relying on Mom for guidance and support in this matter.

Fort Collins!

Here are the highlights of my Fort Collins trip:

3am feeding with delivery food and Amsterdam clog-slippers:
I ran into Thomas Burns in a bar, randomly. So he came over to hang out with us. (He was my homecoming date 2x in high school)

Katie:

Me failing miserably to slide down a rail.

A bear!!!

Love:

Katie, her friend Thomas and I:

Katie picks me up at the airport!

Today will be the first day that I try printing my boarding pass from online and then going to the airport. Since they are now charging $20 for a bag, I will be throwing everything I need for the weekend (which is a lot considering it's going to be cold) into my mountaineering backpack and attempting to stuff it under the seat.
You know how it goes....we'll see.
Katie's flight attempt, regardless of what happens, will be interesting.
Summit this weekend about graduate school. Be excited.