For my Ginger

"There is no excuse not to write..."

I'm sure some famous author wrote that once, but really, who's keeping track?

Life has been... life. I have been busy as hell. Broke my leg. That was pretty damn dramatic. But thankfully, and unthankfully at the same time, I am nearing the end of my last fall semester here at Syracuse. This means a few things.

I have refused to accept the fact that some of my best friends are graduating this semester, or going abroad next. Though this refusal is cathartic at the time, I am worried for the moment it hits me next semester.

I have narrowed my career possibilities from 2 to 5. This seems like a step backwards. Current options include event planning, hotel management, human resources, special events coordination, and publishing. And potentially just fucking the world and going down to be a damn Disney Princess. I had so much fun last Halloween that its starting to seem like a potential life choice. This is what senior year is doing to me.

I am more thankful for things in my life than I ever have been before. Whether it would be my incredible, romantic boyfriend; my absolute best friends or my endlessly loving family- I am appreciative. And falling in love with all of them all over again. Bring it next semester.

Happy, Kath?

Retail Therapy

There is one thing I like more than complaining about money, and that is spending it. With finally a few dollars to play around with this summer, I did what any normal 20 year old with extra cash would do: I went shopping.

Now, I am a very tricky shopper. I inherited my mom's sense of "gotta have it NOW, try on everything, buy everything" along with my dad's "If you don't need it, you don't buy it" mentality. So I will shuffle around from store to store (In this case, the mall and Targeé), maniacally throwing clothing off of racks and into messy piles of haphazard hangers in my arms. I will then rush to the nearest fitting room, armed and loaded with the first batch. When I enter the fitting room, one of three things will happen:

1. I will try something on, admire it, weigh it's "How good does it make my ass look" compared to "How expensive it is" and develop a ratio. The process gets very complicated and mathematical here.

2. I will try something on and immediately obsess about all the ways it makes my tummy fat bulge. I will keep the garment on for about 2 minutes, stuck in my own head, and then throw it off into the not-in-a-million-goddamn-years pile.

3. I will fall in love. Hard.

50% if the time, it's number 1.

30% of the time, it's number 2.

10% of the time, it's number 3.

10% of the time, my boobs don't fit in it.

After returning all of the number 2's, I go out and see what else there is for me. During this time, I second-think the one's I'm not sure about. And though I am not proud to admit this, usually I will casually desert a good majority of them randomly about the store. Anyone who works in retail, feel free to hate me. My rationality behind this is as a caterer, I am constantly dealing with other people's rejects, and they don't even think twice about throwing away an empty beer bottle or a napkin. Why then, when I'm shopping, should I get rid of my own unwanted items? I know, I'm still an asshole. But whatever.

So after abandonning about 25% of my clothing in the home furnishing/men's wear/cosmetics departments, I head to the register. My pile drastically reduced, and my confidence level that much higher. I triumphantly swipe my barely used debit card through the machine. Ahh, life is good. I am a smart shopper.

Who perhaps needs therapy for the way I use retail therapy.

I Like Lists

10 Things You May Not Have Known About Me:

1. Only one thing shares my bed with me nightly- and that is Jazz, a stuffed animal horse I have had since I was about 5. Jazz is a girl, as demonstrated by the eyelashes I sharpie'd onto her eyelids. And I love her. Toy Story was a hard movie to get through.

2. I'm a god awful waitress, but I am a great caterer. This may seem strange, but trust me they are very different fields.

3. I'm living in Rhode Island after college. This is not a request. It is a demand.

4. The one thing I really miss about my ex boyfriend was that he used to buy me My Little Ponies on important holidays. I really, really like My Little Ponies.

5. Though I do think my current career goals are feasible, and may make me happy, I still really want to work for Us Weekly and report on celebrity gossip until the day I die.

6. theknot.com and thenest.com are two of my favorite websites. Yes, I am aware of how creepy this makes me sound.

7. I do not have a good head for hats.

8. I put off taking PSY 205 until senior year because I knew I would want to be a psych major after taking the class- and listening/counseling is more of a hobby to me than a career.

9. I am an obsessive phone pacer. If I'm talking, I'm walking.

10. This past year of college (and the preceding summer) was the best year of my life. Following accordingly, this summer has probably been one of the worst of my life. And by that I mean boring. And by that I mean I am doing a blog entry at 2 a.m. on a Saturday night/Friday morning. There you go.

popping The Question

12:47 a.m. July 12, 2010. I sit on my bed, laptop in its usual place on my lap- heating my legs up with its usual, familiar warmth. I sit here, thinking about the future.

Ah yes, she has begun. The inevitable phase of every college kid's blogging career where they discuss The Question and their potential answers to it. The Question, of course, is "What are you doing after school?" The strange thing is, I am starting to see answers materialize. I'm starting to make up the potential answers, which (shockingly) might not be bullshit.

I am starting to have a vision of some things that I want. I can see an apartment in Providence with my Red Jeep parallel parked outside. I can see a cute little Shar Pei puppy and a handsome boy greeting me as I walk in the door. Paying bills by doing catering jobs on the side, getting drinks at an outside bistro with friends, looking up recipes on my iPhone. I can see a Life.

And perhaps most importantly- I can see myself going down two potential career paths. I think I've realized that there are two that I could see myself being happy in- Publishing or Event Planning. Of course with my luck, I'll end up in neither, but let me go into detail.

Publishing has been a dream that started somewhere in journalism, tapered when I decided I wanted to be a shameless celebrity gossip columnist and then blossomed again when I became a writing major. Besides selfish aims of wanting to be a published author myself, I enjoy reading the work of my peers. And I can sift through pieces like a bloodhound on a trail I swear to you. So there's that. Then again, I have little patience for bad writing, so... there's that.

Event planning has a bit of a funnier back story. I've been catering and waitressing and all-things-food-ing since I was old enough to work. Easy money and free food. Bingo. But a strange thing happened to me last semester, during my Five Hundred Thirty Eighth hour of Dome-ing. I LIKE what I do. I like doing displays, picking out colors and planning events. And I'm actually kind of good at it. I never thought that I would want to make a career out of it, but there you go. And with my minor (major) addiction to all things Wedding and Home Design- we'll there's that.

So with all the answers, there comes more questions. And perhaps my answer to The Question is a bit more complicated than the necessary response, which usually involves "Time Shall Tell!" or "I'm WORK-ing on it. Ha-ha! Get it?" Maybe I'll just torture people by memorizing this entire entry and reciting it whenever I am asked- that'll teach these people with their questions.

P.S. Please only comment in English. Appreciated.

A Wish Be Granted

Well, it's nice to be back full swing in the blogging world- I just wish I had more to say at this point. I'm barely working at a job that promised me hours and waiting to hear back from another (Tuesday!). While my friends talk about their exciting internships and summers filled with travel and adventure, I am stuck on Timber Lane not doing much of anything.

This summer has not been a bust- I've been to New Hampshire, Syracuse, Pleasantville and Rhode Island. That's pretty impressive. But mostly, I've just been sitting in Connecticut.

But I will stop moping. Yesterday was probably the best day I've had in a while here. I got my hair cut and got bangs- something drastic and different to keep my spontaneous self alive. Then my mom and I had a bit of a girls day, shopping around the mall and day dreaming about iPhones. After dinner, my friends invited me to a get-together in Woodbury, and I decided to ask my brother to come. Strangely, he agreed, so we took the 45 minute trip out there to go see my high school friends. It was an experience- to say the least. My brother got to see who I am when I'm around my friends- which is completely different than sit-at-home-and-be-bored Me. We got into some crazy conversations about our family, and the past. At the end of the night, he told me "I finally understand you". Sadly, the only problem now is I'm not sure I fully understand him yet. I guess time shall tell on that one, and maybe this summer will be more about getting in touch with my roots than anything else.

Just This Once

I sat there feeling something, as we drove down the familiar roads. The sun was in the moments before setting, and a yellow glow was cast throughout the car. I could feel every dip in the old road, and with every bump Kate's sleeping head would jerk and readjust on my shoulder. It felt.. calm. And then Lauren looked to me and said, "Do you realize that this is the last summer vacation we will ever have?"

And I knew she was right, of course. I have thought about it- somewhat subconsciously. But Lauren saying it, in that moment, just made me really think about it. We were headed back to her house after a full 24 hours of fun and reckless behavior. We had partied the night before, deep into the early hours and nearly "Breaking the dawn". We then all woke up way too late with major hangovers and decided to go on a hike and swim at a local river. And then get ice cream. So here we were, driving back, exhausted and feeling the pain from our hike. Half the car was drifting off into sleep as Matt fully controlled the music. It was calm, sweet, fleeting.

The Usual Suspects

I expect change, constantly. I expect myself to make things happen, to be spontaneous and to change my way of life. But something about being home just makes me fall back into old routines, old frustrations and old ways of life. But such is hometown life.

This summer I have been adamant about making things happen and retaining my spunkiness, even in the face of a boring summer. I landed a nice catering job, have been hanging out with my friends near daily and have already gone on some ridiculous road trips. I think I'm breaking out of the funk.

But I seem to be alone.

When my mom moved back to Cheshire, it was to be with her mother- my ailing grandmother. She came her to be a nurse, to provide company and to rebuild her relationship with her mother. Things I can totally respect. She uprooted her family once again to take care of her mom. But I'm worried she isn't taking care of herself. It's a routine, every day. The same routine. Wake up at 6 a.m. Go to work until 5. Come home. Watch the news with Mom. Eat dinner precisely at 7. Walk the dogs. Watch a movie with Mom. Fall asleep. Repeat.

I came to Cheshire this summer to spend time with my family, and rebuild my own relationships with my parents. But she is so hesitant to break out of her funk. I have suggested going out for icecream. Going on a walk on the bikepath. Going to a local classical music concert. She rejected every one. "I want to spend time with my Mommy," she would say. And I would silently agree with this sentiment, and then wonder why her time with her mother was so much more important than her time with me.

Maybe I am being selfish and unreasonable. She wants to spend time with her ailing mother before she runs out of time. But I don't think she's letting herself live. I'm worried she has fallen in a funk and it's not one I know how to get her out of.