Confession #5

To all you It's-too-early-for-Christmas-music-diehards.
And to all you who believe the Biebs impregnated a girl and lost all innocence..

I'm sorry if this confession strikes a nerve. But..

I have listened to Justin Bieber's Christmas cd over 10 times already.

nostalgia

nostalgia: a wistful or excessively sentimental yearning for return to or of some past period or irrecoverable condition.

certain music always gives me that nostalgic feeling. The Killers take me back to high school. Weezer ignites those middle school memories. And for elementary school my homeschooled musical selection basically revolved around Twila Paris or Amy Grant.

It is so easy to become nostalgic of wonderful memories and dear times. But I find that nostalgia makes me sad. Its a yearning for the past. In The Great Gatsby Fitzgerald says, “So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past" (which is also on his tombstone). He so often wrote about characters that dealt with the past haunting their present circumstances.

I often let my past define me, like Fitzgerald's characters. I think about what in my past has made me who I am today. While I believe my past has shaped me.. it's beautiful to realize that through Christ I have no need let my past failures define me. And though there will always be a current to battle, I know there will be calm waters eventually.

basically, nostalgia is a way weird feeling. like deja vu. but deja vu is probably weirder.

A day in the life of a college grad with no job!

it was a sweltering hot summer day. driving around in a car with no air conditioning was brutal. the windows offered no relief. the wind felt absent-- far far away. but the heat was not to stop my mission: to drive out to Joann Fabrics and get my fabric to make an apron. I pulled into Joann's sweating as if I just ran a 5k in the desert wearing a jumpsuit. I was a hot mess. I eyed the fabric I wanted, my eyes hungry seeing all the different patterns and colors. The measurements were cut. The ladies working there were sweat-less, comfortable in their khaki pants and long sleeve shirts. I was a monster. Greedy for fabric. Hot from the sun. Who was I?! I left the building as soon as I swiped my debit card. The drive back was even hotter. But my mission was completed. I got my fabric-- I was in the clear to make an apron.

Later that night I began. I assume I know how to do everything when it comes to sewing an apron. "I've done this before! I'm golden" I thought to myself with arrogance. And in bustle I cut the first piece of the apron out of the un-ironed fabric I laid on the ground...and as I held up and looked at the piece I cut... I realized...
it was completely wrong. I cut it terribly. The fabric was ruined. I didn't swear. I didn't yell. I simply laid down my head on the table. And it was at that moment my dear friend came over, expert sewer she is, and reassured me all was well. My mistake was not a nightmare.

From this adventure I learned a few things:
1) Air conditioning is a blessing. If you have it-- bask in it. Love on it. Respect it.
2)There are only certain khaki pants that are flattering on women. Khaki pants suck most of the time. Sorry, Joann Fabrics employees.
3) Always double check when cutting fabric. There IS a possibility you will mess up.
4) Dear friends are gems. Be thankful for a helping hand or a laugh together.

BE BOLD

This summer taught me to be bold.

In my thoughts. My prayers. My actions. My relationships.

Why not dream for something big to happen? Why not pray for a miracle? Why not strike up a conversation with someone you normally wouldn't?

I have always appreciated the little things in life, especially in people's stories. What makes them who they are.

I always had the idea that in order to make a difference I had to be noticed. I had to do it BIG. It had to be perfect. But I have learned that I can do bold things in small ways. In ways where I least expect them. They might not fall in my lap. I need to find them. My imperfections teach me how to be bolder in how I live my life.

I want to show love in a new way.

Prom.

okay, so I haven't ever been to prom. my high school didn't do prom. so I don't really understand the whole experience. I have nothing really against prom.
but.
working at a restaurant downtown, I get to people watch all night from the window. prom night graced Chattanooga with its presence.
prom kids were everywhere. and while creepily watching each one of of them, I found there was not ONE dress that was cool on a girl. not ONE couple who looked the least bit comfortable. there were gay hummer limos. and more then one parent coming by the restaurant making sure their child had enough money or "checked in."

maybe I'n just being judgmental.
but what I took away from the night was that prom is lame.
maybe its a subtle bitter resentment for never having one.
either way, i'm happy to have missed out on the skin tight, bright colored dress, overly done up hair, and awkward date trying to prove his coolness by paying for dinner.. with his parents money.

LOVE

my love for Tom Waits is growing. listen to him.
maybe you hate him.
maybe you love him.



I DON'T WANNA GROW UP

splattered

ACT, DON'T WORRY- DON'T WONDER. SPEAK YOUR MIND, EMBRACE YOUR DEEPEST THOUGHTS.

live for beautiful things. DAFFODILS BLOOMING OVERNIGHT and the sweet smell of a red rose. CHOPIN. HUGS that feel genuine. a laugh that hurts.

change always will creep up on you. people change. scenery changes. pets die. hearts become warmer. hearts become callused. START GIVING A DAMN. there is grace. be humbled.

YOU MIGHT LABEL ME. I PROBABLY LABEL YOU. labels don't matter. labels aren't always truth. love the simplicity in a moment. find joy in GOD creating those moments. be wild.

crazy dudes

Found this when researching for my SIP:

After reading an early draft of A Farewell to Arms at Hemingway's request, F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote his friend a ten-page letter. He suggested that Hemingway end the book with the passage: "The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure that it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry."

Hemingway summed up his thoughts on Fitzgerald's critique in a three-word response at the bottom of the letter: "Kiss my ass."

Confession #4

I hate fedoras.

Let me clarify. I most certainly hate when girls wear fedoras. Any girl. Anytime I see a girl wearing a fedora I can't help but yelling on the inside a little bit. Guys can get away with it more, but for the most part, anytime I see someone wearing one all I want to do is rip it off their head and throw it in a shredder big enough to handle a fedora.

Some Acceptions:

cowboy boots

Do you ever feel like you are not really present in a situation? At times I will look back at something that I was at, or someone that I was with and wonder if I was really even there. I mentally check out of situations without realizing it.

The little details have always been important to me. The small instances are the ones that I look back on and am thankful for. Lately I have been putting things into perspective more. I haven't had some massive-change-my-life-and-become-a-new-person epiphany, but I have realized that I often romanticize situations.

"...a sense of change about the familiar edifice, such as affects us all, when, after a separation of months or years, we again see some hill or lake, or work of art, with which we were friends, of old. In ordinary cases, this indescribable impression is caused by the comparison and contrast between our imperfect reminiscences and the reality."
-Nathaniel Hawthorne [Wakefield]

In other news Christmas is coming (yeah yeah, stating the obvious I know). I have an obsession with shoes and I have realized I have started to try my hardest to wear a new pair every day for at least, oh, five days. Then I can cycle again. New shoe of desire: cowboy boots.

the world I am in.

I'm reading through all the Narnia books. Instead of doing real school I read these. I read them when I was wee, so everything is fresh to me. they are so curious, and so simple. I usually don't read books out loud, but these I do. Lisa and I read The Magician's Nephew on the long car ride to her house.

"For what you see and hear depends a good deal on where you are standing: it also depends on what sort of person you are"


I have a pretty bad British accent.

ENOUGH

so, for contemporary literature I read "How to be Good" by Nick Hornby, who's one of my faves. I, of course, procrastinated my project and stayed up until the wee hours of the morning working on my presentation and finishing the novel. As I sat cross legged on my unswept, hardwood floor at 2 AM in the morning, vigorously trying to figure out how the heck to make a handout on microsoft word I began to wish I was laying comfortably on my back in a lawn chair on the deck of a cruise ship making its way to the Bahamas. Or in warm bed. But no. My fingers were slaves to typing and my brain a slave to remembering information read.

Hornby writes "How to be Good" from the perspective of an analytical, obsessed-with-her-thoughts, middle aged woman. I love it. It's the way I think. Not thinking in the sense of a middle aged woman (to those middle aged women reading this: I have nothing against your thought processes) but she analyzes how I analyze. I liked this quote:

"The only scenes I can stand in any of the Star Wars films are the quiet scenes in the second one, The Empire Strikes Back...at first I preferred The Empire Strikes Back simply because it offered some respite from all the roaring and banging and whizzing. but later I came to appreciate its.... I don't know what you call it. Message? Moral? ...Something in it began to chime somewhere in me, and I wanted to be Luke Skywalker, off somewhere on my own, learning to be a Jedi, I wanted a break from the war. I wanted someone wise to teach me how to do the things I needed to survive the rest of my life."

All this to say I want to be Luke Skywalker too. No more school. No more staying up late. No more thinking about money. No more making dumb decisions with money. No more pretending I didn't make bad decisions with my money.

I want to be off on my own learning how to brave the world.

Confession #3

I'm a cat person.

Now. I like dogs. They hold a dear place in my heart, and someday I will own a golden retriever.

But cats. I love cats.

For awhile, I was in denial that I was a true cat lover. I grew up with Mittens, and we bonded. We were together when she lost her brother Skittles. She was there when I crashed my bike and came home crying. I even played cards with Mittens. (I had really great creativity as a kid). But THEN, the middle school years came and I fell into the peer pressure of people telling me that "DOGS ARE COOLER." I agree that dogs are cooler in some ways. Such as being able to fetch things and going on walks with you.

But all along I knew that my denial was truly a lie and that in the depths of my heart the felines held my love.

Basically, this is my public confession and restatement of being a cat lover. I promise I won't become like this lady.

Meet Lando! My new kitten..becoming a cat now. (Started out being as boy. then thought to be a girl and pregnant. but soon discovered in an appearance of a little surprise down yonder, that Lando is indeed, a boy).






I'm really not a weird cat freak......................

senior year. you are mine.

+15 years ago, I was convinced I knew what I wanted to do with my life (ice skater. dentist. actress. they all seemed like good options).
+Three months ago I began training for a summer that I was nervous, unsure, and freaked out about.
+Two and a half weeks ago I departed from the 21 people who knew me best this summer. I said goodbye to many of my best friends. I left that day with a new found confidence I did not enter the summer with.
+A week ago I finally moved into a house of my own with katherine harrison and lisa coward.
+This minute, I am not as convinced as I was 15 years ago about what I want to do with my life.
+Tomorrow I begin first day of my senior year of college.

Basically, I don't know what I'm gonna do with my life. But new experiences shape me. New (and old) friends continue to inspire me. And my senior year ain't got nothin' that I can't take on. Even if I don't know what's going to happen after this year.

On a side note, here is a warning to all toaster oven users:
Do not put a piece of bread too big in a small sized oven. It WILL catch on fire. I repeat..it will catch on fire.

Too early

sometimes there are moments in life where a week of my life feels like it lasted months. in approximately an hour and forty minutes my team of twenty two new and old friends are going to depart and officially depart and begin a summer of working camp. it's strange to be in the "camp bubble" all summer and to return to the "real world" after. it kind of freaks me out to think about. but I know the memories and experiences I will gain will be far more rewarding then I can even think right now.

I'm getting better at being more confrontational!

Also, I want to learn to salsa dance.

???????????

When I was watching Oprah the other day (as I have done most every day since I have been home.. what can I say, Oprah knows things) she was talking to Simon Cowell, and they were talking about marriage and such, and how he is getting up in age. And she said something like, "Well that's okay 50 is the new 40 these days."

.......And this is where my question comes in. I don't understand this whole, "old" and "new" thing. For example, the other day I was told that the color coral is the new pink. But when did pink become old? And when pink was new, what color was old? And what if I don't want coral to be the new pink? Do I have any say, or is it a done deal?

Basically, I'm just confused. Is 50 really the new 40? And if so, does every age have a "new" age? I'm 21.. is 21 the new 16? Does that even make sense? Whoever makes these "rules" I want a part in it! I want to make wearing no make-up the new make up face! Unbrushed bed-head to be the new hair-dried straight lucious locks! For lunchtime I want sushi to be the new PB&J! Give me something!

(My apologies for the mass amounts of question marks in this post.)

today is sunday.

I've come to the conclusion today that I'm crazy. "Why are you crazy, Karin?" you may so curiously wonder. Or maybe you already think I'm crazy. Or maybe you think I'm crazy for thinking I'm crazy. Either way, there are lots of crazy people out there. And on the hypothetical crazy scale, I'm not sure where I'd rank, but I'm on there. I think my craziness (I know you are getting sick of that word) is because I'm so blind to things. I don't journal as much as I'd like, but I do occasionaly. Every time I write something new I read over all my old entries. And in every single entry a common theme weaves it's way in and out of them. I have a passion for kids, and helping them to grow in anyway. For music, to be better at the instruments I play. To be better read in the literature I collect on my shelf. And to simply love someone, and desire to be loved.

These passions get lost as I think so much about me. ME ME ME ME ME. And all the faults I see in myself. And that is why I'm kind of crazy. I have all these things I love, but I don't love them they way I want to because I bring myself down. DUMMMBBBBBBBB. I guess God works that way sometimes. Teaches you something over and over and over and over again until you finally open your eyes and see what he's been showing you about yourself.

On a different note, I'm reading The Blue Castle by L.M. Montgomery. This was my absolute favorite book in middle school, and I remember being so surprised by the ending. But I forgot the ending! So I'm reading it again, and seeing if I will love it still. I like when I forget surprise endings. I always wish I'd forget the twist in The Sixth Sense. But I still haven't. Probably because I always think about wanting to forget it so I will be surprised again.

Snapshot.

So, when I said in my last post that I feel invincible when speeding.. I no longer have that feeling as of today.

Dear Chattanooga Speed Camera enforcement,
I appreciate your concern in my driving 45 mph in a 35 mph zone. I find it cool that my buick got two snapshots printed on a piece of paper and sent to my house. Frankly though I don't really like the fact I have to pay for this fifty dollar ticket, and I would rather you not be so sneaky when snapping my photo. Also, next time, pick on someone who is going at a more reckless speed. Thank you.

ten driving thoughts.

Driving back today from Chattanooga to Asheville I realized some things. SUCH AS:

1) Being alone in my thoughts for four hours is kind of nice, and horribly annoying at the same time. Especially when your phone is dying, and you have no ipod because the ipod you have decides to break because all technology you come in contact with seems to want to gang up on you and hate you.

2)I hate Ryan Seacrest.

3) But his top forty countdown I like. Four hours of pop radio music didn't drive me as crazy as it probably should. Hearing "Bulletproof" three times in four hours was a very joyous occasion for me this morning.

4) I eat way too much McDonalds.

5) An iced coffee, AND a double shot starbucks drink did NOT give me the energy I needed. My eyes kept closing!! I'm not sure exactly what I realized from this except maybe to buy some sunglasses????? Because the sun in my eyes makes me sleepy???

6) Honking and holding your breath when going through a tunnel isn't as fun when you are the only one in the car.

7) I feel invincible when I speed.

8) I am impulsive. In way too many areas of my life. THINK THINGS THROUGH KARIN!! COME ON!!!

9) Where is college going? And how am I a senior already?

10) I'd like to attempt at owning fish again. And have one last more then a month. They always die without having lived the full life they deserve. Technology and fish... what is it you have against me?

Confession #2

I like to eat soggy cereal.

Sure, the word soggy is gross. And soggy food is usually gross.

But, for some reason, a bowl of soggy raisin bran is extremely tasty to my buds.