Ann M. Martin -- Literary Genius?

Renee has just introduced me to, what may be, the best blog in existence.

The BSC Headquarters.

Yes. Yes. This is just too awesome for words. Considering I spent a good deal of the third and fourth grade hiding a BSC book under my desk, reading when I should have been learning percentages and decimals (Something I still, to this day, suck at) or about Conrad Wiser's role in the French and Indian war or something, it is only fitting that I now sneak read this blog while I should be doing page proofs.

Demanding and Exhilarating

Taurus
One of the most demanding and exhilarating transitions of 2007 is coming. Here are five tips to help you get maximum enjoyment out of it. (1) Be an early adapter, a quick study, and a resilient improviser. (2) Hang out in places where things are just beginning. (3) Intensify your commitment to the lessons that spontaneity can bring. (4) Be a specialist in uprisings and breakthroughs. (5) Give your generous attention to influences that are pure, innocent, and buoyant.

I'm in. Sign me up!

Random Splatters

I had one of those dreams last night, the kind where all your frustrations manifest in a completely logical way, but when you wake up, you go on feeling the emotions in a totally illogical way. Last night's dream involved a coworker I don't particularly like. He's fine, I guess, just in love with the sound of his own voice, constantly talking over people and speaking at a decibel one would expect if the other party was in North Dakota. So he's annoying, is the point I'm getting at, and he's in middle management and just...one of those guys. But I rarely have cause to interact with him, so he's just peripherally obnoxious. But last night, in my dream? I was helping out a coworker on a project for him and he was acting like such a prick. Calling us "dumb broads" and bitching about how our time management sucked when all we were doing was waiting for the printer to process our job, GOD, and I lost it on him. I completely called him out on his bullshit in a forceful and professional manner but still managed to hand him his ass on a plate. Basically I asserted myself in a fashion that I rarely do in real life which, I think, was the whole point of the dream. However when I walked into work this morning, said coworker was standing outside smoking (just like he always is -- another annoying thing about him) and it took all the self control I had to not muster "jackass" when I passed him because I was Still! So! Mad! at the completely imaginary thing he did to me.

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I know that I said I was sick of all things Harry Potter after finishing the cram for the final week of my Witchcraft class, but then I saw this and now I'm sort of psyched again.

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I think it's time for Flickr Anonymous. I can't stop checking on there a zillion times a day, looking at other people's work and getting inspired. I also need to back away from the Photoshop brushes, of which I can't stop experimenting with. The result? Some good and some meh. Wait, no. The real result is that I'm getting no work done. Which is bad.

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Dill says Hi.

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I'm attending Beltane this weekend, and I'm on the hunt for a long, colorful, flowy skirt. Renee, kind of like the one you wore to Ten Commandments (not that this helps the rest of you). I've tried: Old Navy, Boscov's, Lane Bryant, and Deb. Zip, zilch. Any suggestions? I'd like to not pay a ton of money for this either, as I'm going to be dancing, sitting around in the grass and dirt, and other stuff in this.

Oh, and while we're on the subject of clothing, what do you all think of this dress as a possibility for a summer wedding? I want to be comfortable and cute, but I'm worried this is not dressy enough.

Dictaphone

Seriously, on my "To Buy" list, a Dictaphone just rose to the top. Or maybe just a really awesome tape recorder that I carry on my person at all times because tonight I was privy to the following two awesome (if by "awesome" you mean "fucked up") conversations:

1. The discussion of the ethics of eating our own pets. No, really. Really. Haven made the note that when her pet chinchilla Ferdinand dies of perfectly natural causes she's going to turn him into (and I swear I'm not making this up) a change purse and then make "chinchilla" buffalo wings with his body. I KNOW. We were all horrified but Haven, the girl who refuses to pick flowers because she finds it cruel, was completely blasé about the whole thing. I have weird friends, y'all.
   
   
2. Coming home to my roommate Mike being completely trashed and rambling, for real, about his nipples and how much he loves me. And then he said something about how we have Chips A'hoy in the cupboard, all excited like. I wish I could have recorded it all, because now I can't remember any of it, thanks in part to him forcing me to have lemon drop shots with him. And this, when I have to get up tomorrow and have brunch with nuns. Again, I am not making that up. I'm having brunch with nuns tomorrow. (long story)

So yes, in light of these conversations (and thinking back to other recent ones that I can't recall in good detail), I need a Dictaphone. Because I just have too many bizarre conversations, be it eating our pets or Mike preaching the gospel according to drunk, it's needed.

It's a Beautiful Day!

Last photo post, I swear. But:



It is SPRING TIME now. (I hope. Mother Nature, keep taking your Ritalin, OK?)

Now in Artsy Fartsy Black and White

So it turns out "after the final" turned into "Friday," since I found myself with some extra time on my hands. Sadly though, something was up with me and my picture taking last Saturday. I don't know what the problem was (probably a combination of low light, smoke, my lens needing to be cleaned and my tipsy hands) but so many of my photos turned out blurry. Fortunately, turning them into black and white made them "arty."









Oh my god, I'm in LOVE with the way this one came out in black and white! Christopher looks so good!











I don't get this kid. But I love this picture of him.



Pee Wee Herman Laugh



I took a whole series of awesome pictures of Beth. She's all fun and photogenic too.

More over at Flickr.

Best Subject

Renee is quickly becoming one of my favorite people to photograph. She's so photogenic!



The photos from this weekend are going to take forever to sift through and until I hand in my final, it's probably not going to happen, sadly. Hang on everyone.

Number 42? Check!

I was going to tell you all about my insane weekend -- about how I ran around like crazy on Friday, the bridal shower and bachelorette party, Teener's birthday party and random cops, and Bloody Brilliant on Sunday. But really, let's just cut to the chase to the big news:



42. Get a piercing in addition to my positively chaste one-hole-in-each-ear

I got my eyebrow pierced. What do you think? Does it suit me?

Q: Did it hurt?

A: No, it didn't hurt, not really.

On the way to the parlor Kelly turned to me and said, "Ooooohhh! Are you nervous?"

"Not really," I responded. "I don't think it will hurt too much. No more than giving blood anyway."

"Uh, No, it's going to hurt A LOT MORE than that."

Gee. Thanks Kelly. In case you're wondering, she was wrong. It didn't hurt much more than giving blood. It was more uncomfortable than painful. And it was over in like 2 seconds.

"You're such a BIG GIRL!" Kelly exclaimed when I got it done without flinching or anything. "So brave!"

It's still a tiny bit tender when cleaning, and it looks slightly swollen in the morning, but it seems to be healing nicely. The barbell is a bit bigger than I would prefer, but the starting barbell needs to be larger in order to compensate for initial swelling. In about a month or so I can change the jewelry and I plan on getting something a little smaller, tighter, and discreet.

Q: What has the reaction been like?

A: Generally, pretty positive.

I would say about 97% of people have given it a thumbs up. My brother (after taking 4 hours to notice it) said, "It's not without its charms," which I take to mean that he's not wild about it and was trying to be polite. Everyone else who has wrinkled their nose at it were people who don't like piercings in general and they informed me that they wouldn't like it prior to me getting it. So I'm not so offended. There are, of course, the people who have said nothing at all, and I'm assuming they are either being polite and not mentioning it because they are from a different generation and don't understand or because they haven't noticed it yet.

The best reaction by far was from Miss J who actually screamed when she noticed it, most likely since it hadn't even been 24 hours since I last saw her and suddenly I had extra holes in my body and she was So! Shocked! After she was done screaming, she excitedly admitted she loved it. Another good reaction came from Renee who yelled, "When did you get that done! Are you trying to be like me? Are you going to move to Chicago and fall in love with a boy too?!" Renee, I will always strive to be as awesome as you, so: maybe. Justine also had a great reaction after taking forever to notice it by demanding to take multiple photos of it and then telling me at random intervals how "hot" it was.

Q: WHY???

A: Why not?

I, uh, needed more jewelry in my life?

No, for real. It was time. I sort of regret not getting it done earlier, like in college when it was more acceptable to punch holes in random body parts. I feel sort of old having it now. But then, you're only 25 once, right? I don't have much time left to do crazy random shit, so I might as well do it now. And I'm tired of being prissy and boring and dull and plain. I needed to do something. I needed to do something bold. Something crass. Something...effective. It's a "Sack up, ho" message to myself. It's a reminder to me that I'm tired of living in limbo, to just shut up and DO SOMETHING already. Grow some balls. A promise to myself that I'm going to take better care of myself, be better in general, like myself more. To remind myself that I may hate my futzy hair and crooked ass smile, that random mole by my lip, my too-large birthing hips, the way my one eye gets squinty and small when I grin, but that this is me, damnit, and that I have what I have and I better start appreciating it for no one else will. For a thousand reasons.

Q: You do realize that people are going to have a harder time taking you seriously and earning their respect with this? That there is a negative stigma on "pierced" people?

A: Yes. Don't think that I didn't think about that before I got it done, or that I didn't stand in front of the mirror Monday morning staring at it and breathing heavily in an oh-my-god-what-did-I-do way because I just put HOLES in my FACE and I had to walk into my CORPORATE OFFICE in 15 minutes. (The office, by the way, is fine with it -- which I knew they would be, it's just...you know.) And then I had a little Come to Jesus with myself because: I like it. And you know? In this day and age it's pretty tame. And on the flip side, there is a different "stigma" that comes with pierced people and that I don't mind having. I am different.

In other news, I have to figure out how to tell my parents who are going freak out.

Well, as Miss J said, at least it's not a tattoo, right? Wink

Kooooong!

A propper update coming later with recaps of my crazy busy weekend, but in the meantime, this is pretty awesome.

Let's drive to Brighton on the Weekend

Oh, hey. How's it going? Yeah? That's cool. Any big news? Really. Interesting. Well, you know, good luck with that.

Oh me? Yeah, I'm OK. I know. No, I know. I'm just busy. Really. Like, you know, end of the semester/beginning of spring busy. The good kind of busy.

Well, a lot really. Like tonight in class? I have to give a presentation. So that was a fair bit of work, getting ready. And in tomorrow's class I'm up for critique again. And I'm trying to race through the entire Harry Potter canon again so I can develop discussion questions before next week, since I'm discussion leader. And let me tell you -- it's sort of hard developing Harry Potter discussion questions for graduate students that don't either sound incredibly stupid or sound like the answer's completely fucking obvious. Oh and I'm trying to get together my portfolio for my other class too, to say nothing of the 20-page term paper that I haven't even started for the literature class final. Yeah, really. Exhausting indeed.

Work? Eh, it's OK. I'm in the middle of a bear of an issue though, one with over 180 different models which means -- I swear I'm not lying to you about this -- 90 solid pages of charts. I sort of want to kill myself.

Remember how I told you the Doc is home? It's great news, it is, but he's managed to come home and I'm not even kidding you, within 24 hours of being home his house looks like I did nothing all fall. Teresa said it best when she said something like "the brilliant chaos of his brain naturally avalanching everywhere he goes." A lot of it is stuff he needs to unpack from spending 4+ months in New York. So I'm helping him with that. Oh! And he has a new idea for a book (like he needed another one) which hopefully we will actually get to do and I get to help him with it. But we first need to convince the subjects to let us do it. And that involves a lot of photographs and the building of an awesome power point presentation -- and guess who gets to do that? Yup, you're right. Not that I mind. It's a cool idea and I'm thrilled to be apart of it.

The weekends? Ha! Filling up quickly. Like this one coming up? I have both a wedding shower and a bachelorette party to attend on Saturday, plus a birthday party for my friend Justine. All on Saturday. Yeah. And then Sunday is Bloody Brilliant, my Britcom party (you're coming, right? You should totally come! You're SO invited!) which I haven't even started getting ready for. And "getting ready" involves cleaning and shopping and cooking and LORD, I can't even worry about any of that until Friday at the earliest. And you know, all my weekends are like that now. This happens every spring.

So yeah, with one thing and another, 90 pages of charts, Harry Potter, critiquing, photographing, rocking out to the new Bloc Party album (which I am loving), cleaning, and laughing at British people, I'm pooped.

Do you mind if I just..? Really? That's so nice of you. I promise, just a quick kip. No, you can go about doing what you were. Nah. I'll sleep through anything at this point. Yawn It's fine really just 15 minutes, really. Wake me before the ca....zzzzzzzzzzz

So has it been written...

This past Sunday Renee hosted her annual 10 Commandments Party where we watch the movie, drink everytime anyone says "bondage," eat lots of dip, scream about Yul Brynner's nipples, and snicker at the line "Are you a master builder or master butcher?"

This year I took my camera and proceeded to shove it in everyone's face all damn day. Here are my favorite shots:





































And as a bonus for being so good, I give you this self portrait with my girlfriend, Iris

Yet another open letter to cancer

Cancer,

Tonight was a night of awesome awesomeness. Do you want to know why? Well, I will tell you.

The Doc is home. Like, home home. After months in New York undergoing treatment, he's back. A recent trip to the hospital for some digestive issues showed clean blood work and X-rays. It's not an official scan, which won't happen for another couple months to allow further healing from the radiation, but right now I'll take it and I'll take it gladly. Yes, you robbed him of his voice, asshat, and made him go through God-awful radiation, for which I will eternally hate you. But this evening, I sat across from him at his dining room table and drank green tea with him. We laughed and teased and he was Doc, good old fashioned Doc, albeit with a cyborg voice. He's home and in good spirits and energy and I am quite thankful.

Also, this evening brought the news that my roommate, who a few months back was told he either had leukemia or lymphoma, in fact has neither. A biopsy showed that he just has some internal virus thing that caused his nodes to swell in a rather unpleasant manner. I don't know what the internal virus thingy is, but I love it, because it's not you.

I guess, after months and months of worry, heartbreak, stress, praying, filing, packing, fretting, crying, cursing, and fist shaking, what I have to say to you is this:

IN YOUR FACE, BIYATCH!

You can shut up and sing, kiss my ass, and stuff it sideways. We win.

Neener,

Katie


P.S. - Don't think I'm done with you either. Now more than ever I am coming after your ass. The Bloody Brilliant Britcom Day is in two weeks and I am still taking donations for the American Cancer Society at that time. Watch yourself, motherfucker. You fuck with my friends, you fuck with me. And I am sick of your fool self, screwing up the lives of my loved ones and other fine people. I'm not tolerating you anymore.