The Bird Refuge

A Few Firsts and What The Rolling Stones Taught Me

2012-01-21T15:10:00.000-08:00

Last night I spent most of the night up with my baby, rocking her, talking peacefully in her ears and humming to her so that she might stop crying. Our one and only daughter is almost past the definition of "baby." She is a few days shy of turning one year old.

She has been very healthy until now and though the Dr. today couldn't find anything really wrong with her, I just kept thinking that she probably caught the cold I've had and have been trying to ignore for a week. As I struggled keeping her little body still and relaxed and as she cried and screamed at me to make things better, I felt frustrated. What can I do? Everything felt hopeless as she wriggled and batted away at the bottle I thought might help.

Then I remember that everything to her is a first. Everything is brand new... well except for maybe the taste of a bottle, the feel of her car seat and our goofy smiles at her when she wakes up.

But this low-grade fever, the taste of spaghetti, and even the clown fish swimming at the Dr.'s office are just a few firsts for her. Feeling an ache in your muscles and a throat as thick as sand is all new. It was the first time she didn't really feel good.

Our daughter is in fact, a first for me. She was my first diaper change and the first living thing without feathers, scales or fur that depended on me for everything. (Pets were nothing compared to what a baby needs.)

I still remember that first ride home from the hospital. Everyone tells you how surreal it is to come home with a little baby in your arms and no one will be taking over. It is all up to you... You will learn how to feed her, change her diapers, clothe her, get her shots, take her to the Dr., and don't forget to sing to her, play with her and be amazed by her... all while letting your body recover from the major event that it has gone through. Talk about overwhelming. We drove home and while I sat with the baby in the back, the song, "You Can't Always Get What You Want" came over the radio. Were the Rolling Stones trying to teach us something about parenting?

No, you can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
But if you try sometimes
well you just might find
you get what you need

Boy does this ring true after my first year of parenthood. If I got what I wanted, labor would be easy, feeding a baby would come perfectly naturally like all the lactation specialists said it would. I would always get enough sleep and our little baby would never wake up screaming just because she lost her binky.

But, man I got what I needed. Nine months of pregnancy and a labor that taught me my life and the baby's life is only in the hands of God. I got major feeding road blocks and a complete lack of sleep. I got a happy baby who looked to me for everything, and I knew nothing. Humility was always the main dish.

Then, last night, I realized something. It was at that point when my sleep deprivation seeped away and my heart changed from wanting the baby to sleep so I could... to wanting the baby to feel better. It wasn't about me, it was about her. But that was also the point when I knew I could only do so much and the rest was up to her to learn. Last night after we had done everything in our power to help, she was learning that we are mortals and we get sick. And being sick just sucks.

Poor thing. Life lessons are hard, but they are there to make sure we don't glide through life like ignorant lemmings. We learn, we grow and now I get to watch this little baby learn and grow...Painful and perfect as it is.

Reflecting on my 2011: First as a mom and as myself

2012-01-10T14:12:00.000-08:00

Well here we are, another new year at our faces and an old one at our heels. I like to try to make new years resolutions because I think it helps me keep myself on track. I like the challenge. Probably the same reason I observe Lent.

Anyway, this year I had a few things that seemed fitting to try. I won't bore you with the lame resolutions like to floss everyday. But the one I wanted to mention was my resolve to write in this blog weekly. I love to write but I do have to push myself on occasion. So, I have decided to write weekly.... we will have to see how this goes. At least is will give me something enjoyable to add to my list of "to-do's."

Back to contemplating...It seems so odd to look at my life now, and look back to where I was a year ago, obsessed with the unknown and looking at upcoming parenthood with a chill of excitement and fear. Things have peaked and fallen and begun to swerve into a direction I had no way of foreseeing. Having our daughter arrive safely was a total miracle. Getting used to a newborn and surviving the lack of sleep was another miracle. Finding out she had hearing loss, visiting with Doctors and specialists, and then finding a way to get our own hearing aids for her was beyond a miracle.... it was upsetting and scary and yet, I feel like it all needed to happen.

Our daughter was late and when I was taken in to get checked, the nurses performed the stress test to see if she was doing ok. When she didn't respond to the loud noises, they induced me and we had her that night. When she came, it became clear that the cord was not only around her neck, but also tied in a true knot, which cinched at her delivery. So, needless to say, we believe her hearing loss saved her from further complications. I will be honest, it took a while for me to see things that way. My husband helped me to recognize it and after a short period of mourning for her, for her loss, I felt fine. My heart was healed by the Lord. Our little girl was the one to teach me to be happy no matter what. She smiled at me and progressed as happily as any child, reminding me that everything would be just fine.

Shortly after that, I became a mother of three overnight and just for 3 months. No, I didn't have triplets, I just became a nanny for the summer. It was hard and I was so exhausted, yet it taught me when push comes to shove, I could totally handle three kids.

Shortly after that, my husband decided to go back to school to become a chaplain and I chose my path and stayed at home to teach our daughter and be there with her always. My nanny job was over and the baby and I were together all the time, (all day and almost every evening) as my husband was at school after working all day.

I think this has been the hardest tender spot for me. I have heard people say you need to re-invent yourself each time you have a baby and others insist that working a part time job will help stave off the baby blues. But really, how do you keep a woman sane whose a people-person at heart? I love being with the baby, but at this stage, things are too lonely and slow in my life. Don't get me wrong, I can hear the voices out there insisting it will change, but no matter how many kids you have... Motherhood can be isolating.
I miss the chats I used to have with co-workers every morning. I miss the days when I was in school and had classmates and discussions and papers to write.

Now I am learning how to keep to a budget (which I did great till December!) and find things to keep my heart happy so our little girl will have a sane, stable mommy (I must admit here that I have an addiction to shopping that has reared its ugly head. Things started innocently by getting baby and I out of the house, but budgets and casual shoe shopping do not go hand in hand).

Going to the gym also became my refuge in the morning. I spent all year trying to get my body back after our girl was born and right around October, I figured I had lost a total of 33 lbs. I had managed to lose the baby weight and then some. But it wasn't just about getting into shape. The gym became a place where I could listen to talks, books, scriptures, and music, and see other people. Plus, I got up early enough that both baby and husband slept the whole time I was gone. The only drawback was my tired afternoons :)

Other things to cope... I learned how to make flower pins and small, button earrings that were baby friendly so I could try to be stylish and not lose my ear lobes during the grabbing stages. I gave myself a schedule of what to clean and when, so our little apartment was somewhat in order. I listened to a lot of music, watched movies, found recipes and cooked more. But what I really needed to do was to get out and visit others. And now, I am realizing I created a monster.

Our little girl is the most social person I have ever met, besides me. She blooms in front of random people at the grocery store and she can get the most downhearted to smile back at her. Is it bad that I love the attention she brings? I love hearing people's comments about her. Sometimes they just comment on her to each other and I can over hear what they are saying.

Point is- I love seeing her bring out the best in others and I don't feel like I can take much credit for how she is. But it is nice to think that what I do with her each day is bringing her up the best way possible.

So, yeah... this year has been a lot to handle. A lot has come and a lot is coming. Part of me is just excited for the things on the horizon... like the new Andrew Bird album and my sister-in-law's wedding, and the Hobbit movie, and my 30th birthday this year, and seeing our baby go from crawling like crazy to walking like crazy, and hearing some more words and hoping she gets some more hair.

Everyone says when you have a baby, it is the most exciting time of your life. I argue that seeing them grow is what makes it worth it. Not only that, but seeing yourself grow in the process has made a world of difference.

ps- the above image is from Threadless.com and is for a T-shirt for Mothers month. I loved it and had to use it in this blog.

The Paradox of Motherhood

2011-11-22T12:04:00.000-08:00

I still remember the most common saying I got before our daughter was born. It was this: "Don't forget! Your life is about to change!" I'd think to myself, Duh, of course it is. I am having a baby. Maybe what I should have been doing is preparing mentally for things to change. But that is my question... How do you accept these changes and find joy in them when you are still kicking the walls because your life is now totally different?

I have a had time writing this because I don't want this to sound like I don't love being a mom. I told my daughter this morning over her bottle that I knew she was a gift to me. She is so good and happy and could make me smile on the worst days. This little baby is a gem of the rarest kind. I wouldn't want to lose her for a second. However, I do feel like I have, in a way, lost myself in the process.

In the beginning you have a baby and you are so bent on keeping that baby alive and happy, going down your list of things to do that in a way, you forget what you are missing. Life has changed from that eternal date night to now you and your spouse trying to get down the basics. I never thought I would, but it has almost been a year and I think I got most of the basics.

But now as my husband goes back to school, in addition to working full time, I find myself alone with a baby a lot trying to learn how to enjoy the time we spend together.

Not only that but now, budgets are a way of life. Going to the gym at 5:45 in the morning has become the only time I get for just me. Running to the store to get a gallon of milk is as complicated as moving to another state, and my opportunities to be alone with my husband are few and far between. Everyone keeps saying, "get a new hobby," or "buy some new shoes to cheer yourself up." This just resulted in a lot of false starts and a brief stint where I went to Kohl's and Forever Young Shoes too often.

Looking at my heart, I know I have a great relationship with God. I read scriptures daily, I pray constantly, I know the decisions I have made are correct, but I don't know what He is trying to teach me here. I do have faith, but I also can't seem to navigate my way through this. I know I am still me. I know I love my daughter. But why is parenthood so tough on the mother? I think it is because she is the one that takes all this change head on. After our baby was born, my husband still had his same job to return to, yet this is the first time in years that I haven't had somewhere "to go " each day for most of the day.

In the past few months, I have taken my social nature and tried to use it to help others. I visited friends and family and I do what I can to make people happy. But most of the time, I feel like I am still struggling with a loss. A loss of the way things were and now, everything I do relates back to me as a mom. I know I have more dimensions than one, but at this time, I don't know how to tap into those without denying my daughter of what she needs and deserves.

A Young Adult Literary Critique

2011-11-17T07:57:00.000-08:00

DISCLAIMER: This is just my opinion and you don't have to love it. I just wanted to stand on my literary soap box for the duration of one post.

So, what do you think of Twilight? I used to really like it... I like the music in all of the movies. I like the how Meyer wrote about what it felt like to get dumped. I really like the character of Jacob and at times, Edward had his strong points too. I liked the way first book ended and I liked the other vampires. But, then, I took a step forward and realized The Twilight Saga lacked some major elements and rather than justify it, I wanted to talk it out.

Let's go back a little.

A good friend of mine first told me about this great book called Twilight. It wasn't popular yet and all I heard was that is was about vampires and my friend thought I would really like it. (I guess it is because I love Halloween so much).

Well, my friend was correct. The book was a bit trite at times, but I enjoyed it and it was a classic example of young adult fiction. Then came the other books. New Moon and Eclipse soon followed. I found them entertaining and though the books spent way too much time with the luke warm love story, I found myself totally fascinated by the "father figure" vampire named Carlisle. He was a converted vampire that changed his ways and not only abstained from drinking blood, but worked as a doctor. Wow, to me that was a cool character. Someone who totally flipped from one direction to another.

Anyway, so far, things had been interesting, but I was the only person in the world who thought Bella should not be a vampire. I thought it was an unfair move. Then, the last book Breaking Dawn came out. I bought one copy for my mom and I to share. She read it first.

I told my mom, I have to know if Bella becomes a vampire because if she does, I won't read it. Sorry for the spoiler but my mom (and many others) told me the whole book and disgusted, I vowed never to pick up the thing. Meyer had sold out.

Yes, you may judge my ignorance. But I stand by my decision. And I ask....Do you know what makes a good story? Sacrifice. What made Harry Potter good? It wasn't the Quidditch or the spells. It was the sacrifice that Harry had to make, losing those he loved for a greater cause. Even he had to sacrifice himself in the end.

What did Bella have to do in these books? Nothing, but be a indecisive, impulsive girl. She never really grew up. And the elements that made the story interesting (i.e. Carlisle) were shoved aside for a ridiculous love story that in my opinion sets a bad example for young adults and adults alike. Some might argue that Meyer did a great thing by having Bella and Edward wait till they were married to have sex, but I still think there was a little too much angsty lusting for a young adult book that millions of kids from elementary school to high school were immersed in.

Now the movie is coming out and everyone is all a buzz about this "epic" love story on screen. All I have to say is that I have no desire to pay good money to see bad actors have sex.

I know this may sound harsh. Believe me, there were some things that I really liked about the books. I really liked the first book, but sadly, they slowly slipped downhill till now we are left with nothing substantial at all.

My recommendation... read the first book and stop there.

They Say It's Your Birthday

2011-06-01T09:12:00.000-07:00

Two weeks before her due date, my mom's blood pressure was rising and it was decided that I needed to come early. I was born June 2nd around 9:30 at night on a Wednesday.

Birthdays for me have meant the Spaghetti Factory, and white frosting on bakery cakes and glitter crowns at school and the start of summer. Then, one June 2nd, I got my driver's license and was introduced to the world of transportation. A little later, I graduated High school and turned 18 on the same day. That was also the day I was lovingly nudged into real life.

Since those early days of routine, my life has been a smattering of change. College came and I traveled and I moved in with roommates and I felt a little vulnerable to all of it. But, I could always look towards my birthday with a sense of relief. I knew it was coming and I could depend on that.

The best birthday I had was one June 2nd when I jumped out of an airplane and finished a long list of things to do before I turned 25. The very next year, it was my birthday and I was looking at engagement rings and what it might be like to marry my best friend.

Last year, I was newly pregnant on my birthday and sick to my stomach with hormones and some potent nausea. Worst of all, at my birthday party I couldn't tell any of my friends yet that I was going to be a mom. It was too early still and I've never been good at waiting.

Tomorrow however, I will turn 29 and I will celebrate the beginning of the last year of my 20's. I am going to bake my birthday cake, (a Pavlova actually) and cover it in strawberries and kiwis. I'm going to read stories to my baby and then ride bikes with my husband in the afternoon. I'm going to eat some mighty fine Mexican food with my family for dinner and I'm going to pat myself on the back for making it another year.

All in all, birthdays are very important. They always should be. It takes a lot to get a baby here and it takes a lot to make it from year to year. After going through this process to get here, and to get our baby girl here, I can't think of anything else to do but celebrate. When our girl was born I looked at her and thought about the fact that she made it. I had been waiting so long to see her and I know my mom was waiting to see me too.

So here's to another year Kate. Life is totally do-able when it is one year at a time.

The Crossroads

2011-05-25T13:29:00.000-07:00

Just recently, I watched Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure and took a little trip down nostalgic street. Don't get me wrong, I have not traveled with my best friend through time and collected several historic personages for an oral history report. I was not that lucky. But I was giving some thought to the premise of the movie. A man from the future named Rufus goes back in time to assist Bill and Ted with their history report. If they fail, they will be thrown onto the wrong path for the future. If they pass and get an A+ Bill and Ted will go ahead with their plans to write music, which in turn, will change the world for the better.

Everything comes down to the road we choose. Can you think of one choice you have made that has affected your life permanently? I can think of several. But one sticks out in my mind. I chose to sing.

Growing up, I loved listening to music. My first CD was The Nutcracker and then Beethoven's greatest hits. I was nerdy and fine with being a nerd. I had given up piano and other than listening to the Beatles and admiring music from the sidelines, I was fine with not participating. But after taking sophomore girl's choir, I gradually learned more about music and soon I desired to be a part of the smaller, (audition only )choir for junior girls.

Here it is, the choice that changed everything. I decided to do it. I was totally out of my league, but I received a week long crash course with a voice teacher who believed in me and I decided to try out for the junior girl's choir group. At age 16, I had my driver's test, my AP European test and my choir audition on the same day. I failed my driver's test, I got a 2 on my AP Euro test and still sang my audition piece from West Side Story. A couple days later, I discovered I had made it. It was beyond my mind to imagine, but where all I saw was failure, I had made the 28 girl choir group.

My life changed after that. Not because what you do in High School maps out the rest of your life. In fact, most of the time, it is the opposite. But, for me, being a part of this group led me to discover a talent and a passion I had for music. I went to College on a vocal scholarship. The choice to sing changed the friends I had, it filled my depleted self-esteem, and it made me happy to be a part of music. Singing made me the happiest.

Ok, it is 13 years later, after that first audition and no, I haven't performed on broadway. I haven't opened my own voice studio, or graduated in opera. But, I sing all the time. I sing at church and at Christmas time and I have been known to teach a few voice lessons here and there. I also had the glorious chance to sing in New Zealand and to sing at both my Grandma and Grandpa's funeral.

I also sing to my baby.

So I guess I took a different road, one I never thought I could take, or would take. But that road has lead me to who I am now and that ain't all that bad.

The Greatest

2011-03-24T08:25:00.000-07:00

In the middle of the night, I hear one or two cars pass every hour, and if its raining I can tell by the splash of the tires on the pavement. Most of the time, my neighbors upstairs have turned off the music and all the washers and dryers have fallen quiet. The insurance offices across the street are lit with warm lights that come on once the sun goes down. While sitting on my couch, I can also see the traffic light switch from red to green to yellow to red again, cycling over and over. If the wind is blowing, I can hear it swish through my chimney and cause the pilot light to waver and wiggle. I have also noticed my little fish, Fugi, stays near the bottom of his bowl at night, as if he was resting from a hard day's work.

After two months of getting up at anywhere from 2:30 am to 4:30 am to feed my daughter, these are some of the things that occupy my mind. I watch and listen to the quiet. But last night was different. I wasn't a zombie eager to sleep. This time I was awake.

My daughter had finished her bottle and was changed. Usually this is when I try to get her back to bed so I can get back to bed. But last night she looked at me with wide eyes and her grin with dimples and I didn't care how tired I felt. Instead, I laid her flat on a blanket in our living room and sat above her. Looking up at me, she kicked her legs and wiggled her arms and sometimes looked like she was going to do the backstroke. She smiled and gurgled and did her best to talk to me. We were connected as I looked down at her, literally taken with her every look.

I realized I didn't want a thing to change. I wanted her exactly how she is and each smile from her was like payment for the all the hard stuff. I kept feeling these little surges of warm joy and it was like being in love all over again. I couldn't repress my own laughter. I was giddy and grateful and I wondered to myself who on this earth could resist the smiling face of a baby? Who could repress something so happy?

I pulled up close to her little ears and I told her she was the greatest (which also reminded me of a song by Cat Power called "the Greatest"). So, I grabbed my nano and played the song right next to her ears through the speaker on the outside. She seemed to like it.

Now our little girl has been smiling for sometime, but why was it so powerful last night? I think it was because the world and my mind were finally still. I got her message and as I smiled back and held her little hands with my fingers, I sent my own message in return.

A Horse Down a Well

2011-03-04T13:13:00.001-08:00

The story goes that once a man had a beloved horse that fell down a well. The man did everything he could to save the animal but his efforts were in vain. The horse could not be rescued. So, wanting to put the painful experience behind him, the man decided to seal up the well and bury the horse. He called all the neighbors to come with shovels and everyone began to slowly shovel dirt into the long, narrow well.
As each shovel of dirt landed on the horse, he shook it off his back and stepped up. Eventually, after some time, the horse, had enough dirt piled up to scramble out of the well. **

The story is an illustration of how one animal learned how to survive when life threw dirt on his back. He shook it off and stepped up and eventually rose above all the dirt around him.

My husband shared this story with me this past evening when I was pretty worried about our new baby who now seems to have some permanent moderate hearing loss in both ears. This little baby, who I am still getting to know, may or may not recognize my voice. Ironically, she has never been happier, growing bigger and smiling more and more each day. Nothing seems to phase her. But, I sit here, worrying about her education and if the kids at school will treat her nicely, or if she will still learn to play the piano.

Health has always been so important to me. I have watched some of my dearest family struggle with terrible health problems and I myself took a little too long in my life to start taking care of myself the way I should. I guess this is why I hate the idea of having to watch my baby go through struggles too. But I guess that is love isn't it? Watching those you love, struggle and staying instead of walking away.

I'm grateful my husband told me this story the other night. It helped me realize that no matter what we face as a family, this is the point to decide how to react. Lay down and get buried, or shake it off and step up.

**This story is not my own but was in my husband's work newsletter "The Legacy Ledger."

Lent 2011

2011-03-01T10:44:00.000-08:00

Wednesday March 9th, people all over the world will give up something for Lent. You may have read in past posts that I have given up such things as candy, buying music on itunes, and sugar for Lent. (Sugar is my truest vice). This year, I've decided that I am giving up chocolate for 40 days.

The last several months, I have wanted chocolate more than normal, but with things in the world like Lindt balls, Tim Tams, and cadbury chocolate bars, who can blame me?

Personally, I know that chocolate from Europe is the best. Cadbury rivals Hershey's time and time again and Cadbury is always victorious. In fact most chocolate and biscuits from Europe are always better over American versions. (except maybe girl scout cookies).

Living in New Zealand, I was introduced to the Tim Tam slam** in all its glory. But, I could not retain my joy when I discovered Pepperidge Farm bought Tim Tam's from Australia and they were finally available here in the U.S. in such places as Target for $2.50. I also owe a great deal to the amazing store World Market. Besides being the best place for Christmas shopping, it also has the best selection of Cadbury chocolates.

However, I am not a chocolate snob. I love my American chocolate. Butterfingers, Milky Way Dark, M&M's and even the long gone Hershey bar with mint cookie crumbles. American candy is a more simple way to go but it can easily take care of a chocolate craving. Ghiradelli is also a must. My family always craved Mrs. Cavanaugh's and I knew people who adored See's chocolates. Honestly, I like them all.

However, one item stands above all the rest, blowing a simple chocolate bar out of the water. It is a drink. A Vegan hot chocolate from the Hatch Family Chocolate Company. (I think they owe me a free drink by now due to how many people I have converted). I am not a Vegan, but something in their specific blend of ingredients in this particular drink equals joy to me. It is self-medication. They use soy milk which makes it taste even darker than their dark hot chocolate. I always order it with whipped cream too which gets some pretty weird looks when you are posing as a vegan, but it softens the dark tones. This drink usually has to be enjoyed in stages. Drinking it in one sitting leads to a heavy, unhappy tummy. I drink it slowly and put the rest in the fridge, heating it up the next day in the microwave. (Note, don't be alarmed if the drink is solid when taking it out of the fridge. This just means it is made with more pure chocolate than you may want to admit).

So, now do you see why I am choosing to sacrifice this for 40 days? I believe it will help my cause... which is to be less indulgent and to be grateful for what I take for granted. Let's just hope I don't lose my mind in the process.

** A Tim Tam slam is when you bite the two corners (kitty corner from each other) off of a Tim Tam cookie and then suck hot chocolate through it like a straw. The cookie will begin to melt and you will have to put the whole thing in your mouth before it falls apart. It also works with cold milk, though it is not called a slam.

My Top Five

2011-02-09T09:34:00.000-08:00

And now for something completely different!!!

I would like to take some time out of this normally, scheduled blog to put in a plug for the top five things that have made my life with a newborn so much easier.

Remember this is just one humble (new) mom's opinion.

#1 SwaddleMe

So we have all heard swaddling is the way to go with babies. The hospital nurses did it with their blankets and I have done the same at home. But, we had a pediatrician recommend this. It looks like a strange sack that is open at the top with velcro on the sides.

My husband and I joke that it looks like a straight jacket, but believe it or not, our little one can be screaming in the middle of the night, and when she gets wrapped up in this, she settles down right away. Plus, you can un-velcro the bottom and change a diaper while her arms are still wrapped up. It is total comfort and not too pricey either. I think we got a two pack for 20 bucks.

#2 Gumdrop pacifier

I know not all mom's are really into pacifiers but in our house they have really helped at this stage. Our baby already loves to suck her fingers when she gets stressed and we tried a few pacifiers already. The ones from the hospital are way too big and squish the poor girl's nose. The Gumdrop pacifier looks silly but it is the perfect size. They have a huge notch for the baby's nose and are curved to fit her face. Plus there are holes in the sides so I know she can breathe. But, my favorite part is that they have the little hole in the bottom of the nipple you can stick your finger so the baby can gum your finger. Our baby loves nibbling mom's finger. They are made by Hawaii Medical and I got mine for about $3 bucks each. They are totally worth it!

#3 Dutalier Rocking Chair

Ok, I will just explain that ever since I was a young girl, I always said I wanted a rocking chair when I grew up and had a baby. My mom rocked me to sleep and I decided I wanted to do the same thing. One day, I went out and "test-drove" all the rocking chairs. This one by Dutalier was the best! The back wasn't too high and it wasn't too wide so it fit in our small place. But, it literally has been the BEST thing we bought. I think I spend about 89% of my days and nights, sitting in it, rocking our baby. Prices vary, but just know I was very grateful to have some awesome family that could help me get my Christmas wish this year!

#4 Enfamil Nutramigen Formula

I know, I know, I said it... I am thankful for formula. But, let me give a slight explanation.

My plan was to breastfeed and I did for a the first two weeks until it was apparent that my little girl wasn't getting much from me. The Dr suggested we try some other formulas in small amounts and I worked around the clock to get my body up to speed. Three days later, I had to consent that my little girl's health took priority. I needed her hydrated and I needed her to put on weight and this formula was the only one that she could stomach. I wish it wasn't the most expensive, but I am so grateful it helped her and got her healthy again. And, I am grateful for Walmart's affordable prices.

#5 Receiving Blankets and Burp Cloths

After our girl is wrapped up in her SwaddleMe for bed, she gets wrapped in another blanket. When we go to the Dr. and the baby is getting harassed with pokes or a stethoscope, I wrap her in a blanket and she settles into my arms with a sigh of relief. Blankets are essential.

As for Burp cloths, well, they too have been irreplaceable in moments of drool... which are common with a newborn.

But, really, the best part is that so many people have given us blankets or burp cloths they have sewed or quilted and I can't express how personal it is to use something someone has made for you and your baby. Saying thank you for that seems so trite, but allow me to say thank you anyway for all those blankets and burp cloths we use around the clock.

Ok, those are my top five items that I am grateful for. There are others, such as the invention of the onesie, Dr. Brown bottles, and Fisher Price bouncer chairs... but in the meantime, maybe this can help someone else looking for a solution.

On the Other Side

2011-02-06T12:34:00.000-08:00

The last time I wrote, I was stuck in the first trimester fears of having a baby, feeling like an emotional wreck and not sure if I would survive pregnancy.Proudly, I can say now that I am on the other side.

Once I hit September and went back to school, I was able to focus. I lost the morning sickness, threw myself into my teaching, and relished in the Fall. But, I also hit the best part of pregnancy. I finally felt the baby move. Like mini nudges from the inside, my little girl poked and fluttered and I giggled my way through the best time of year.

Christmas was also an amazing time, listening to stories of Mary and her own delivery and wondering what mine would be like. The baby's movements became long and liquid, like I had a sea otter swimming around inside, at 9pm every night.

January was the roughest time. The baby was ready to go but my body seemed quite happy in its pregnant state. Everyday I went to work, I was drilled with questions I had no answers to.

Finally, 10 days overdue, the Dr. decided it was time to bring this situation to a head and I was induced. Wanting to do labor naturally, I was not happy about being induced. I had wanted so badly for things to happen on their own. But, even in spite of the the lowest dose of pitocin, I made it through the labor with only some fentanyl. I had gotten to a point during labor when I asked for the epidural (to keep from going mad), but was literally out of time since the anesthesiologist was in a C section and the baby was coming fast. Almost unintentionally, I reached my goal. I thank my Heavenly Father for His Grace and for sparing my body and mind and for making labor go fast enough I didn't perish in the process.

Now here I am, gazing through the doorway of life with a newborn. 2:30 am and 2:30 pm is ultimately the same thing and I sleep no more than 3 hours at a time. When I stand in the kitchen in the middle of the night, I catch a glimpse of the ultrasound photos pasted all over the fridge and it's hard to believe all those nudges came from this little baby, who can't seem to fall asleep unless she is on my tummy. Her funny kicks and twitches are all on the outside now as she is still getting used to her new body.

I on the other hand am still getting used to my new role. What does a mother do? What does it mean to nurture? So far my job consists of feeding, rocking, changing diapers and putting her pacifier back in her mouth about 2 million times a day. I know that is what Mother's do, but what else can I do? I want to build a relationship with this little noodle but it's hard when I feel like I have so little to offer at this point. This little baby has many needs and my biggest job is to decode her cries and come to her rescue.

I guess, I can take heart in the fact that things happen naturally. I got to this point, right? My grandma always told me I "come from a long line of strong women." Maybe they felt just as clueless or just as void of motherly instinct as I do. Maybe they eventually got in a groove and learned what a baby needs. Or maybe they muddled through it just like the rest of us.

I'm a hormonal monster... can you blame me?

2010-07-01T18:18:00.001-07:00

Man, I really thought the mood swings were over, until today when every little thing was like glass in my ears.

Being a nanny right now has been a dream until today when you mix my short temper with sibling rivalry, a LARGE dog, who can't relax, and some 99 degree weather. I have snapped my way through, alligator style and have become tired monster who only craves a cup of noodles (note: this won't last long... My cravings change every week or so when what I want shifts to the list of things I feel like puking up... sorry)

But, I have also heard about other women in my life struggling lately with emotions and ups and downs. Whether due to dating or stupid boys or hard decisions and I want to ask "Who's idea was it to make the mother or the woman the emotionally unstable one?" Shouldn't we always be like a rock because we have so much pressure heaped on us to follow through and NOT lose our cool?

I stood in a grocery store today and watched a little child have a 5 alarm freak-out. It got so loud, the kids I nanny for just stood and stared in disbelief. I also watched as the mom of the child tried to juggle her 5 yr old boy with his fingers in his ears (trying to block out the noise) and her firecracker, red faced and screeching, The woman looked like she was ready to scratch out her own eyes or the eyes of her child. Now, I am not an idiot, I know this happens all the time, but I stood there praying that whatever type of child is developing in me would never become like that. But, is there really a way to avoid it? Probably not. But, I have felt that before... that panic and fear when a child suddenly heralds death spirits with its tantrum call. What do you do? Maybe that is when I could tune out and pretend Ray LaMontagne was standing next to me, singing to me in his rough, relaxing tones.

But really, what do you do when you are hormonally handicapped? When you are a monster flipping in and out of sanity? Does anyone else find it unfair that the "nurturer" also has to be the hormonally psycho one?

I'm not sure how to wrap this one up nice and pretty. I like what my mom said... she said "women may seem crazy, but we get our emotions out while men have a harder time with this." Whatever the reason, I am glad that I and all other women have a place to meet and understand each other. It helps to know we all over-feel and we are capable of so much love as well and so much insanity. :)

Two heartbeats

2010-06-27T08:47:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, when I had trouble sleeping, I'd lay on my stomach and wrap my arm across my chest with my fingers next to my neck. Then, I'd fall asleep listening to my heartbeat. It might sound strange, but that slow rhythm was calming and beautiful.

A few days ago, I had the pleasure of listening to my slow rhythmic heart beat and another beat, rapid and fluttering quietly in time with me.

I am pregnant. And for the first time in my life, I am sharing all my experiences with another little soul. Up until now, it was only me. I was all alone. Even after being married, it was still me on my own sometimes. But now whatever I do, this little one, is there... there on my bike rides and at work and while I sleep... growing.

So, besides the fact that I can't stand chocolate now and I crave chicken nuggets and marinara sauce all the time, (not together) and I go to bed and wake up with a stomach ache, I remember this is something big. It is divine and it is a gift. It is our gift. Our first baby.

The Joys of Being a Woman

2010-05-09T10:40:00.000-07:00

The Joys of Being a Woman

May 9^th 2010

1. Women are Strong

A few years ago, I was visiting my grandma and she and I were talking about our ancestors. She suddenly stopped and placed her hand on my knee. Carefully she said, “Katie, I want you to know you come from a long line of strong women.” She never let me forget that, even up until the day she died.

What my grandma said was true. I am a daughter of the Utah pioneers and all you have to do is crack open your scriptures to see what types of things those women endured. I’m proud to say I come from a line of women who fought, starved, worked, bore children during the hardest times of their lives and continued to follow God’s law. But even putting that aside, I have a daily reminder of a strong woman in my life. My mom is a convert to the church and she has remained faithful and raised a family with my dad, even when the world seemed to close down on her.

Now that is just me. But, I believe every woman has a story and every woman has been and will continue to be asked to be strong. We live in a day and age where we are given trials that bend us beyond what we think we can handle emotionally. Often, we just have to learn how to manage our time.

Mary Ellen Edmunds said in a 1997 BYU devotional:

"We all have a long list of things to do, whether written down or rattling around in our brains: pray; study; exercise; plant a garden, eat it, raise brilliant, cheerful, reverent children; clean a basement; write in a journal, avoid fat, calories, movie theatre popcorn, and evil thoughts; pray for your enemies; do visiting teaching; store a year's supply of food; say yes to to everything anyone asks you to do and hunt for more things to do; plant trees; remember the pioneers and so on...."

Obviously it is Satan who would have us dwell on what we are not doing, instead of what we do everyday.

When it comes down to it, all women can be traced back to Eve, the mother of all living. No one can dispute that she was strong. So strong that she was not afraid to make a decision that affected us all. It brought pain and joy and allowed each of us to know God for ourselves. Bruce R Mckonkie said, “I rate Eve also as one of the greatest women among all those who have or will come to earth. She, as a mother of all living, set the pattern for all future mothers with reference to bringing up their children in light and truth.”

Eve also recognizes the importance of her own actions as she says, “Were it not for our transgression we never should have had seed, and never should have known good and evil, and the joy of our redemption, and the eternal life which God giveth unto all the obedient.” (Moses 5:11.)

There is no doubt she was strong and passed that strength onto her daughters to cultivate and apply in this life.

2. Women are Beautiful

I teach kindergarten and the other day our class went on a field trip to the Aviary. All the children watched as the Peacock walked about the grounds and strutted its stuff for everyone to admire. Back behind some garden equipment, the brown female peacock picked at the ground and remained hidden. Later that day, some of the teachers discussed why female animals are generally plain and un-adorned while in the world, women are the adorned and fancy gender.

Women of the world are given a very narrow door to pass through to be “beautiful.” A woman of the world must follow trends and wear more or less clothing in order to show her status. She must stay a specific size and have a specific hair color and hair style. She tends to worry more about herself and what others think of her looks than the needs of her family or community. A woman of the world is focused on herself.

But a woman of God is a woman who respects herself. She does her best to maintain health by following the word of wisdom. She accepts her body, (no matter how different it is from the world’s view) and she embraces modesty and virtue as her own. A beautiful woman of God smiles often and shows the light of Christ in her actions and demeanor.

Pres. Gordon B Hinckley said “Of all the creations of the Almighty, there is none more beautiful, none more inspiring than a lovely daughter of God who walks in virtue, with an understanding of why she should do so, who honors and respects her body as a thing sacred and divine, who cultivates her mind and constantly enlarges the horizon of her understanding, who nurtures her spirit with everlasting truth.”

All women are beautiful, but in this world, it can be difficult to feel beautiful. We can also slip easily into the trap of comparing ourselves to the standards of the world. That is why I am grateful to have the knowledge of who I am in God’s eyes.

3. Women know how to Love

All women know how to love. No matter how hard our lives are or how frustrated we get with our children or co-workers or families, all women have an amazing capability to love and that gift was given to us by our father in heaven.

Pres. Hinckley also said “The world needs the touch of women and their love, their comfort, and their strength. Our harsh envirment needs their encouraging voices, the beauty that seems to fall within their natures, the spirit of charity that is their inheritance. The God in whom so many of us believe has endowed His daughters with a unique and wonderful capacity to reach out to those in distress, to bring comfort and succor, to bind up wounds and heal aching hearts, and, most of all, to rear children with love and understanding.”

Women are blessed with a special power to nurture. The word nurture as defined by dictionary.com is: to feed and protect, to support and encourage foster, and to train and educate. Nurturing is also another word for loving.

I would like you to think back to the women of your life and how they have nurtured you. How have you been taught, educated, fostered, protected and supported? I think of my mother, my church leaders, my teachers, my mother in law and my sisters in law. These women have taught me, raised me and supported me in all I am.

An important part of being a woman is being a mother. Our bodies are blessed to be co-creators with God. We are the vessel that gives life to children. However, we all know, not all women will be mothers or even wives in this life.

Patricia T. Holland said “ Eve was given the identity of “mother of all living”… before she ever bore a child. It would appear that her motherhood preceded her maternity just as surely as the perfection of the Garden preceded the struggles of mortality. I believe mother is one of those very carefully chosen words with meaning after meaning after meaning. We must not, at all costs let the world divide us. I believe with all my heart that it is first and foremost a statement about nature, not a head count of our children. Some women give birth and raise children but never “mother” them. Others whom I love with all my heart “mother” all their lives but have never given birth. And all of us are Eve’s daughters whether we are married or single, maternal or barren. We are created in the image of the God’s to become Gods and Goddesses.”

This quote gave me comfort as I thought of the different trials women must face in this life. I have confidence that God does not forget his daughters.

I would like to close with a quote by Spencer W Kimball that puts all of this in perspective. He said, “One Does not have to be married or a mother in order to keep the first and second great commandments—those of loving God and our fellowmen, on which Jesus said hang all the law and all the prophets.”

So no matter what dream has gone unfulfilled in this life, no matter what painful trial has changed your life more than you ever expected, we can have confidence in our ability to love. It is our right as women to love with all our hearts and embrace the light of Christ.

I have a testimony that God love’s his daughters. He knows our pain, our losses and our fears. He answers our prayers through others. He wants nothing more than for us to know how much He loves us. What a blessed thing it is to be a woman.

I say these things….

My Feeble Attempt at making 2010 not suck

2010-01-18T20:20:00.000-08:00

Good day to you 2010. It has not been easy for me to welcome the New Year as it is ridiculously cold and smoggy and gross outside, but here I am making my own feeble attempt at viewing things with a cosmically happy pair of glasses.

Not only that but it is time for another.... LIST!!!!

My point with the list....

1-to get me through one the hardest times of year (i.e. cold winter, gray and post christmas blues)

2-To help me serve others and stay close to God (I miss that since our run of Savior of the World is now over)

3-to help me take some time for myself and do the things I have been putting off

So here is the list:

Things to do before Easter Sunday 4/4/10

1-Learn to knit with knitting needles and make something ( I am taking a two part class with my mom and knitting is harder than it looks, but I feel so legitimate doing it)

2-Go sledding (but I need to find snow pants first, blast!)

3-Go cross country skiing ( I heard it is better than snow shoeing. But I don't know where to go)

4-Finish the first draft of my book (it is a young adult novel and this is the one item that stresses me!!!!)

5-Read a complete book of poetry (it is Bright Wings a book of bird poems!)

6-See Alice in Wonderland when it comes out in the (yeah for Tim Burton!)

7-Go ice skating at the Gallivan Center (it ought to be real cold, so I am scared)

8-Have a dinner party (any excuse to be social)

9-Go to a hockey game! (yeah for winter sports!)

10-Learn to play a song on the piano

11-Find a new recipe and make it for John and I for dinner (did that one tonight... yummy nutty breaded chicken tenders and special orange-cranberry sauce)

12-Find a new recipe and make it for someone else (anyone got good dessert ideas?)

13-Keep a gratitude journal, one thing each day. (my favorite so far is the day I was really grateful for peppermint ice cream)

14-Get a haircut (I already did and I have bangs again! whoa, was that a good choice?)

15-Go to P.F. Changs for their famous lettuce wraps (Did it and I was not nearly as impressed as the ones I had from Cheesecake Factory)

16-Learn about my family history!

17-Go on a nature walk (when the air is better)

18-Each school day, write one thing I learn from the kids at school

19-Watch Anne of Green Gables and Anne of Avonlea

20-Give up something for Lent (This is always a hard one. No, I am not catholic but I love the idea of sacrificing something. It has been suggested I give up hot chocolate but that might be too tough.)

21-Get a vegan hot chocolate at the Hatch Family Chocolate Co. (did it and it was well worth it)

22-Carve jack o' lanterns in watermelons. (I miss halloween)

23-Read the church's magazine The Ensign cover to cover for Jan. Feb. and March (this has already helped me keep some spiritual perspective while being stressed at school)

24-watch the edited, Hot Fuzz (I finally saw Shawn of the Dead this past October and I am ready for some more british humor)

That is it. I am trying to be pro-active with the list items this time because my book will take most of the time I have until April.

Here is to a year of making the most of the snow and the early spring as it inches forward.

What gets me through...

2009-11-27T08:40:00.000-08:00

On this lovely Black friday, while all others are searching high and low for Christmas presents and fighting for Beatles Rockband, I am lazily resting at home. It is probably one of the first mornings I've let myself rest in a long time.

The truth is that I have been pounded with illness this season. And by season, I mean starting the end of September through today. Much of this, I know, is due to the fact that I am in my second year of teaching Kindergarten. Once our class had gotten through the swine flu scare and I thought I would avoid it, (half our class contracted it while the rest was fine) I myself picked it up and was commanded to stay at home till the fever had broken and I was better.

So, I did just that and honestly, it was like any other flu and though the fever was the worst part. I survived quite well. Note: I know this is not the case for all since many with asthma get it pretty bad, but I considered myself lucky. However, things got worse as some left over congestion from the flu stayed till Halloween and then became a sinus infection. When I finally got an antibiotic to take care of that and I was finally feeling better, I felt another cold coming on. This cold has stuck around for more than a week and has moved into my chest and made things ridiculous.

Why do I tell you all my history of being sick? Well, partially because I am pretty angry at my immune system and my sweet kids who I have dubbed my carrier monkeys. And, I just want to complain. But on thanksgiving I began thinking about what I am thankful for and I realized, if it weren't for my family and my husband, I wouldn't have gotten through.

When I get sick, I get really emotionally wacked. Sickness sets me back and slows me down and it is such a problem that I lose all my patience. Plus, even just a week of health at this point would be better than colds and sinus infections overlapping themselves.

Through all of my ups and downs, my husband has been there to help me. He has made me dinner, watched movies with me, gone to church and to Savior of the World rehearsals alone while I was sick at home, and he has loved me inspite of my drastic moods.

I am so grateful for him and his level head when mine is anything but.

My parents and my brother have also been there through everything. My mom and dad have brought me dinner and visited me when I was sicker than sick and couldn't do anything but blow my nose and whine. My brother has been a great friend and has talked to me and made me laugh. And my mom has also listened endlessly to my complaints and said the one thing all women need to hear when they are upset... "oh, I know!"

I am also so grateful for my in laws. I have been very blessed in the in-law department. My husband's family are the type of generous, loving people that show nothing but sweetness and compassion to me, especially when I'm sick.

All in all, I know this won't be the only time I feel sick in my life. But, I am just grateful for a support system that not all people have. I'm glad there is a holiday that I can reflect and realize what others do for me.

Beauty is...

2009-10-21T19:45:00.000-07:00

On one of the my last bike rides of the season, I rode past an elementary school. Their marquee displayed the Reflections theme for this year. The theme was "Beauty is..."

At that moment, as I rode past, out of breath, I was thinking to myself that beauty was pain. That is what we always hear right? Whether it is from pinching eyelashes between a small silver torture device, or pouring burning liquids on the skin to remove unwanted hair... beauty has always been pain. We live in a world that cuts, squeezes, shaves, scrubs, plucks, and scalds to perfect our bodies into what we "think" is beauty. Sadly I, like many have fallen into the trap that beauty=pain. I have pulled myself out of bed at all hours to exercise. I have deprived myself of some of the best foods and agonized over every bite I take. I have also burned and twisted my hair and applied and re-applied make-up until I felt like I was beautiful. As I rode my bike, and felt the soft and steady pound of my heart, I tried to remember what I was doing was good for me.

So, is Beauty only seen by the eyes? Is it only visual?

I've also heard beauty is confidence. No matter what you look like, if you have confidence others will see you as beautiful. Could that be true? I remember hearing a story about Marilyn Monroe (an american icon of beauty) that she could walk into a room and get noticed, not because of her body or smile... but because she could turn her light on and off. That "light" was essentially confidence. So, is beauty something inside?

Or, could beauty be talent? Most people find beauty in what is offered by dancers, singers, artists, writers, and actors. I have watched in awe as the talents of others have lit up a room or a stage and have left me feeling tempted to compare myself to their light.

Some also say that true beauty is found in nature. It is found in the symmetry of flowers or the cold, crisp mountains against a blue sky. Others find beauty in the rain and the dark storms that haunt late summers. Or the changing leaves before the November release and all is left bare before winter.

The day I was riding my bike past the elementary school, I was not trying to attain a perfect image of beauty, but to get my body moving after a long day at school. I wanted to exercise and use my body to accomplish something. God makes beauty and the greatest gift is to see someone or something or (the hardest task) to see yourself as beautiful. I know that God's idea of beauty is not the world's spidery thin model with black make-up. But I do know that in nature, we enjoy as much imperfection as perfection and that both were made by God and he sees both as beautiful. So, why is it so hard to see ourselves as beautiful? I think I spend too much time judging myself against an impossible scale. I am who I am and though I may continue to learn how to improve, God sees my best efforts as beautiful and he can teach me to see myself in such a light.

anyone who agrees... check out the movie, Evoultion on www.dove.us It is a perfect example of why the world makes it so hard to love ourselves as we are.

"Leaves are most beautiful when they're about to die." -Regina Spektor

2009-10-07T19:01:00.001-07:00

The truth is, as much as I love Autumn, I HATE encountering change. I have never been one for adjusting to things when the world makes a shift under my feet and I have to find my balance again.

The summer of 2009 was going to be my reward for surviving my first year teaching Kindergarten. I was looking forward to it with more enthusiasm than I usually felt for Christmas. But as usual, life changed and I wasn't expecting to feel so bored, or so un-motivated. I chose to work at an awkward clothing store (to make some extra money and keep busy) that in the end turned out to be a terrible reminder each day that I am far from the bone thin models plastered on every wall. Instead, I made my summer into a deep challenge to love something I'd always hated. I learned to hike. I learned to get used to being out of breath and to have tired legs. Soon, I bounced back quicker from each hike and I learned to love it.

Now, the change of seasons has passed over my head again and I am a few weeks into a new school year, teaching with a different teacher and a new group of kids. Like a silly child myself, I miss my kids from last year. I miss their faces and their comments. Last year was the hardest year of my life and I never realized that I fell in love with those little ones.

This year, my class looks different and they act different and I don't appreciate them yet. Can I do it? Can I love my kids this year as much as I did last year?

Something my husband said has been making more sense to me. He quoted Regina Spektor to me and told me "We are always our best selves before a difficult trial..." or in my case before a change hits. I learned how to love hiking and then, it got too cold to hike. When I serve at a specific capacity in my church, I tend to get really good before the ground shifts and I am all out of balance again doing something unfamiliar.

My last blog entry demonstrated to me that I knew my kids well. Now, everything has rewound and I am at the threshold of another year... sick with colds and trying to remember what patience felt like.

Something in me, tells me that the longer a tree grows and the more seasons it survives, the stronger it gets. So, maybe this year, some of my knowledge will return and I will be stronger than I was last year. Teaching has drained me of my patience and my health and sometimes my sanity, but in the end, I feel like I am doing something important. Maybe I am being prepared for the greater work of being a mother.

Kindergarten Oddities

2009-04-02T19:01:00.000-07:00

It has now been almost my first full school year teaching Kindergarten and all I can do these days is concentrate on the week long Spring Break coming ever closer.

I have had some hard jobs and some bad jobs, and this one tops the cake for "amount of patience required." But this blog is not meant to dig farther into my psyche and decision of taking this job. It is simply a blog of observations. I have learned a lot teaching six year olds and here are just a few oddities that make this job like no other...

#1-Mini Me

When teaching Kindergarten, you are bound to meet mini, six year old versions of people from all stages of your life. I have met a little boy who is the six yr. old version of my Music Professor from College. This boy has the same spaced out, yet totally brilliant look in his eyes. Same resistance to authority. I've also met a girl who is the six yr. old Regina Spektor. She has the same girly awkward body and ridiculous need for attention. I have also met a little boy, who is the six yr. old version of my ex-boyfriend. He also has the same mischievous smile and stubborn attitude. I never suspected my teaching to lead me into the past to view what all these people were like at six years old.

#2 Triplicate

All six year olds say things in triplicate. "Can I get a drink?" x3 "I lost my black crayon." x3 "I see a spider!!" x3 Everything they utter comes out in threes and if you even try to ignore them, triplicate gets doubled and usually the question or phrase is said 6 times.

#3 Volume

Six year olds have only two volumes, Loud and Mumble. Some of you may know I still struggle with this one even at my age. But, I am put to shame by the exuberant, powerful nature all six year olds exclaim stories and comments. It won't matter if I am three yards, three feet, or three inches from them... they demand to be heard. But, they will still mumble when they lose their train of thought and don't know what to say. At least I have taught them to swallow their food before asking me any questions during lunchtime.

#4 Colors and Happy Endings

Six year olds need to have color. I have tested out lots of books on these kids this year and they crave stories with lots of color. The pictures need to be bright, the music up-beat, and the endings happy. Children do NOT develop depressing, emo personalities until they hit that crappy time of life called, puberty. This became very apparent the day I read, "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day" and they complained it was too sad.

#5 Copy Cats

Six year olds ALL copy each other. Plagiarism is a way of life. Each one is so used to copying the example or the drawing of a parent, teacher, or older sibling... that when you get 20 of them in a room, they all bounce off each other and imprint each other. One child will complain that so and so is copying their picture of a jelly fish and then, that child will copy someone else. It is really how they learn, though I hear the phrase, "She/He is copying me!!!!" a lot. I try to teach them that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but then they ask me what "flattery" means and I regret my attempt to help.

#6 The Wiggles

Almost every six year old has what we call "the wiggles." They will uncontrollably have to run or jump or wiggle because sitting in the same place for longer than 45 minutes is beyond their capability. As teachers we have things called "Wiggle Breaks" where we let them pretend to be an animal, or we do the hokey pokey, or we let them bend and move around. I started to incorporate yoga poses here and there just to help their flexibility, but nothing beats pretending to be a Lion and crawling around on the floor.

#7 The Forty Year old Phenomenon

Six year olds come in all ages. Some are old souls, caught in a tiny body. They are the children that walk with me at recess and ask me to tell the boys over there to wear their coats or they will catch colds. Or, they are the children that tell me they know how much I must be looking forward to the weekend.... Like they can read my mind.

Some six year olds can also come in flirty teenage form, and those are the parents I pity. Imagine having a teenager ten years earlier than normal. (shudder)

#8 The Irrelevant

Six year olds have a need to say whatever comes to their minds.... even if it has NOTHING to do with what is being taught or said. Their need to share is FAR more important than anything else going on and I spend a lot of my days wondering where these little minds really are. Probably just moving faster than mine. It makes me feel old.

#9 Four Senses

The average six year old lacks one of the five senses. They do not hear. I am convinced most six year olds are partially deaf. Listening has to be practiced daily and the teachers can only do so much. Sometimes this also intertwines with #8... for example, if a child has that need to share the irrelevant, it will usually trump another child who is talking.

I have also noticed a correlation to the size of the group and the amount of deafness. Thus, the larger the group, the less they hear.

#10 Romantic stories are gross

Six year olds hate marriage and kissing. However, they will use the word "love" always when referring to their parents, families, and teachers. I have received countless notes saying, "I Love you!" To them, love has nothing to do with kissing or marriage.

Teaching has just about killed me this year, but I remember that whatever doesn't kill me, just gives me more to write about.

My Domestic Affections

2009-03-16T15:34:00.000-07:00

About two weeks ago, I went on a very long walk in my new neighborhood. I walked up and down the streets to get some exercise. But instead, I found myself just being fascinated by the homes. You see...I have always loved to see where a person calls "home." I love looking around at the pictures on the walls and the furniture. It is purely for the fact that I like to see how people ease into their surroundings. When I visit a friend, I like to see where he or she sits when we talk on the phone, what their kitchen is like when they make a roast, or what the backyard is like when they have a BBQ on the 4th of July.
I guess it is the writer in me. I like description. I like a setting. I like knowing where someone lives.

Over one summer, my college poetry group had this wild and crazy idea to meet every other week at a group member's house instead of at the school. I loved it. At times, it was more of an insight into the real person than reading their poetry.

Well, that day I went on the walk, I just soaked in the houses, yards, and streets my neighbors and ward members lived on. It was so comforting to me to see these people in their own element. I began to really wonder, what is a home? Dictionary.com defines it as "the place at which one's domestic affections are centered." When I was younger it was my room that demanded my domestic affections.

I had a small, cockatiel in the corner, a keyboard to play, an old, long bed littered in books and a large framed cork board on the wall of all of my favorite pictures, collage style. I painted the walls, two shades of green in college (probably to demonstrate my sadness for leaving New Zealand) and added a guitar to the mix of musical instruments in the corner.
When I moved out and lived with roommate's, I changed everything in my room to dark reds. Color seemed to follow me in phases. But, I still had all the pictures and even the Cockatiel.

Now, I am married and my taste is mingled with another. My home is his. A while ago, when my best friend came over after we were first married, she looked around the apartment and (knowing both of us well) said, "it looks like a perfect blend of you two here. I myself agree... though I miss the Cockatiel.

On a rather jarring note, the day before my walk, my husband and I were driving home after dinner, when we came upon an enormous amount of smoke down the street. Like any morbid, human being... we followed it. And, we came upon a three story home, downtown, that was engulfed in flames. This wasn't like the cartoons with a little flame in each window. This was a ball of flames with the frame of a house swallowed inside. We arrived before the fire engines and I was pretty spooked the rest of the night.

Luckily, no one was hurt, but it makes you think... what would you grab if it was all going up in flames? What matters, what doesn't? What makes a home, a home?

When I moved out with some roommates a few years ago, a close friend gave me a little sewn picture saying, "Home Sweet Home." That hung in the little room I rented for a year. Now it hangs in our tiny little apartment. It reminds me that no matter where I live, it is my job to put down some roots and blossom where I am planted.

Lent 2009

2009-03-01T15:45:00.000-08:00

I am not Catholic. But, I do like the idea of sacrificing something for a period of 40 days, ending on Easter. A few years ago, a friend asked me to give up Marshmallows for Lent. To some that is laughable, but to me it was unbearable. Instead that year, I gave up itunes and buying music. The next year (last year) I took the most drastic lunge and gave up sugar. I gave myself some rules and survived by eating sugar free jello puddings. My husband (then boyfriend) did the same and we somehow made it to Easter. It was horrid.

This year, before Lent even came, my husband sat me down and told me NOT to give up sugar again. He smiled and told me to think of the children I teach and to think of their well-being. Kindergarten should never be a place of anger due to a lack of sugar on my part.

So, this year, my Lent challenge is to give up candy. I can have desserts, but since I tend to snack on candy, chocolate, and little gummy things, I decided to take the plunge and sacrifice. This will be hard because everyone knows the best candy comes out at Easter time. Cadbury chocolate eggs, malty ball robin eggs, and of course the ever loving peeps.

But, I have always loved the idea of Lent because it is satisfying to go without something for a while.
Recently I read a wonderful book called Frog and Toad Together by Arnold Lobel. In the chapter, "Cookies" Toad makes a bunch of cookies and brings them over for Frog. They sit and eat together until they realize they are eating too many. Frog decides to help the situation by putting the cookies in a box and then tying them with string and then putting them on the highest shelf so neither Frog nor Toad can eat the cookies. But, Toad points out that each of these safe guards could be undone. Finally, frustrated, Frog does the most wonderful thing. He take takes the cookies off the shelf, unties the string and takes them out of the box and goes outside. He then calls, "Hey birds! Here are cookies!" Birds come from all over and fly away with cookies in their beaks. Toad says the following line, "Now we have no more cookies to eat. Not even one." Frog responds by saying, "Yes, but we have lots and lots of will power." In the end, Toad leaves and says he is going to go home and make a cake. This story really made me laugh.

In my point of view, Lent and fasting (as a Latter Day Saint I try to do this monthly), is a way for us to practice obedience to God and to try sacrificing for a greater good. And maybe that greater good is for me to recognize what an abundance I have. I love Easter and I love recognizing the true glory of the resurrection. And though I am not Catholic, I have family that is and I'm sure they would approve of my sacrifice. Even the greatest sacrifice.... of peeps.

Green to Gold and Gold to Brown

2009-02-19T19:26:00.000-08:00

It was Mary Oliver who said in winter "the whole world smells like water in an iron cup." I have never been fond of the extreme seasons. I like a month or so of them, but then I am ready to move on.

Take for instance Winter. The air always seems too thin and it is too quiet with all the birds gone. And also there is Summer.... Everyone loves Summer. I don't. And as far as I know, I am one of the only people who is not a fan of the heated, sweating season. But as much as I hate these extremes, some things have won me over.
In winter, I love the way trees look with no leaves. Their sharp branches crossing against gray and blue. I love winter's dull, eternal blue hour. Everything melts into grayscale.
And in spite of the extra heat and thick air, I love summer nights when the deep breath of the day has been released. I also love walking barefoot over pavement, barely cool from the set sun.

However, lately, I have really been craving color. I'm not sure if all the pink I have been wearing lately has been cutting it. It is this extra need that reminds me it is about time for Spring. In fact, I must have a thing for color, because my two favorite seasons have extreme color in common. Whether it is birth or full bloom before death, Spring and Autumn are full of sweet smelling air, bluer skies, overflowing trees and a huge sigh of relief from the extremes. The hard part is waiting and watching as the sun begins to surface more often and wake up all that are sleeping.

This past fall, Ray LaMontagne released a new album called, Gossip in the Grain. Every one of his albums are separate, distinct and personal. This newest album had a song called "Winter Birds" and it has been a frequent song played on the ipod.

Here is a beautiful moment in the song:

The winter birds have come back again,
Here the sprightly Chickadee
Gone now is the Willow Wren
In passing greet each other as if old, old friends
And to the voiceless trees
It is their own they will lend

The days grow short
As the nights grow long
The kettle sings it's tortured song
As many petalled kiss I place upon her brow,
Oh, my lady, Lady I am loving you now

And though all these things will change,
The memories will remain
As green to gold, and gold to brown
The leaves will fall to feed the ground
And in their falling, make no sound

Here's to the coming Spring and the hope of emerging out of the gray.

My Views on Love-New addition

2009-02-13T20:05:00.000-08:00

It was a year ago that I first posted a blog about love. As life is a process of learning, I feel like posting a simple quote that has extended my understanding. I read it this year in a book called, The Four Loves, by C.S. Lewis.

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless- it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell."

This Year I have named the "Year of Charity." As we all know, love applies to much more than just a significant other. We love our families and our friends and yes, even our animals. I have learned what it means to love my co-workers and to love the children I teach. And, I have completely been hurt, scratched, bruised and broken. The list of songs about how love hurts is almost as long as the songs about how great love feels.

But, I think C.S. Lewis is saying God wants us to have love. He wants us to experience it and he wants us to go through every aspect of it. He wants us to be vulnerable and sick and ancy and joyful and tearful and prayerful. He loves us and Charity is His pure love. He wants us to feel it and give it as he has given it. But, like all gifts, one party must give and another must receive. I have been guilty of not receiving. But living an open life... one that will receive love, will hurt. I never realized how vulnerable love makes us, yet the bible says,"perfect love casteth out all fear."

I decided this year would be the year of Charity when in Sunday school, I read in the Book of Mormon 2nd Nephi 26:30, "All men should have charity, which charity is love. And except they have charity, they are nothing." What else is Hell than nothing? To me, hell would be an empty place...void, and soundless, and cold.

On this Valentine's Day, I wanted to share my limited understanding of something we are blessed to feel, if we are willing to allow ourselves to be vulnerable... and that is love.

One for the Birds

2009-02-03T19:22:00.000-08:00

Meet Bundles. This is my bird. He is just shy of 20 years old and has single-handedly, outlasted every other pet I took care of as a kid. This includes a guinea Pig, a frog, a betta, a labrador, and a tank full of random fish. This blog is dedicated to him since I believe he is at the root of my bird fascination.

Since I was young, I've always loved birds. Bundles became mine when I was 7 and a half. Our family had taken care of my aunt's bird who could whistle the Andy Griffith theme song and after my tragic attempt to care for a hamster, I believed a Cockatiel would be the perfect pet. My parents agreed and sadly, they had no idea what they had gotten themselves into. Bundles is only in love with me. He is mean to all others and will only "tolerate" my parents, husband and best friend. He is happiest with me and his longevity has given everyone a run for their money.

But, Bundles was my best friend when life was at its toughest. Like all good pets, he could sense my fears, disappointments, and joys. I used to love watching him stretch his long gray wings and dip his face into his water bowl for a drink. However fun it was watching Bundles wipe extra water from his face, I loved watching him sleep. When birds are truly sleeping, they are found on one foot, with their head turned back and tucked beneath a wing. Once, I sat on my bed, drawing and he fell asleep on my knee. Standing on one foot and fluffed up like a gray dollop of meringue, I watched Bundles breathe slowly and I fell even more in love with birds.

I love their wings and eager, dark eyes. Everything about their sleek feathered bodies and dinosaur feet fascinates me. As a teenager, I had a picture of a Barn Owl on my wall and I would pester my Dad to tell me about his pet owl Oliver he cared for as a boy. I loved the Tracy Aviary and soon fell in love with the Bird Refuge.

Bird songs have been so comforting to me while also making me homesick for New Zealand. In Hamilton, I remember waking up to the billions of birds singing outside my window and feeling the heaviness of winter lift from my shoulders. Heck, one of my favorite singers is Andrew Bird and he must have a like fascination. He whistles in his music, accompanying himself with a tender violin, and often his melodies remind me of bird songs. (Ethiobirds is his best work)

But, down deep somewhere, I'm really jealous of any animal that is capable of flying. Light as hollow glass, birds can slide through air and land in the tops of narrow branches we "earth-bound" would shudder to step foot on. It must be such a feeling to soar so high and so far. Maybe that is why I always loved singing. It was the closest I could ever come to flying.

I have fallen in love recently. John and I have begun to collect a little gathering of fish at our house and have become frequent Petco shoppers. About a month ago, while getting fish food, I met a little bird named Sherburt. He is a White Bellied Caique with a ridiculous price tag (thanks to Petco). I've visited with him often lately. He rolls on his back, sticks his feathered talons in the air and acts like a true ham.

With the "No Pet" rules established at our apartment, I really miss Bundles these days. But he is safely nestled in with my parents instead of being in the corner of my room, squawking at me to let him curl up on my pillow. I still remember in New Zealand, when I missed Bundles, I would go down to the local park where there was a huge cage, 8 feet high, and full of Cockatiels. It still seems impossible to write about, but I feel like that crazy, moody, little bird was a little gift from God to me.

A Change is Gonna Come

2009-01-29T19:25:00.000-08:00

This morning, I really didn't want to be at school. It was too cold. It has been too cold to wear skirts since mid-October, but I wear them everyday regardless. I was not looking forward to going into my classroom today and teaching our kids again to spell and number their clocks with the 12 at the top instead of the 1. I didn't want to focus on keeping them busy, learning new cursive letters or writing two or three sentences over and over again. I didn't want to do it all again.

But as the sun poured over the mountains, my attention was drawn up to the top of a boney tree on our playground. In the highest branches sat one bird. Then three or four more arrived. Their little voices flew high and I felt sorry for how cold they must be. My mind started turning like it used to with ideas and images for poems I have never written.

I used to spend night after night writing poetry. I used to fill notebooks with ideas and get up early to meet classmates at 7:00am on campus. We would read and edit and write poetry. Then, we all graduated and moved away. Some moved far away and studied more poetry and some started families.

Here I was, in the middle of this playground in 20 degree weather, missing my old self.

It hit me hard today that I am still mourning a loss. I never got accepted to Grad school and life changed on me. I got married and went from teaching imagist poetry to asking six year olds what shapes they see in the American flag.

Please, do not read wrong..... I am happier being married than I have ever been. But, I miss some of the old parts of me that are still here. I still want to write. My life will always change, but no one can change that I am a writer. I see things like a writer and I feel things like a writer. I may not be an excellent writer, but I need to write.

This job has wrung me out with both hands. Physically, I have never been as sick with colds or as sore in my back and legs as I have this first year teaching. Dealing with some students and understanding their needs for attention, has just about killed me at times. But there is one thing I will always love. I love reading to my kids. I love watching them sit below me, with their legs crossed and their eyes wide when I show them the pictures on each page. I love making voices as I read and I love making them laugh.

I have recently been introduced to a new series of books called the Mr. Putter and Tabby Stories by Cynthia Rylant. I love them. They are perfect for Kindergartners. The other day I read Mr. Putter and Tabby Write the Book. Without giving too much away, this one was about how Mr. Putter (an old man) decided to write a mystery book and ended up spending more time cooking his snack to eat while writing than actually writing. In the end, he takes a piece of paper and writes the title, "Good Things." Then he lists all the good things in his life and reads it as a poem to his neighbor Mrs. Teaberry. She tells him not to feel bad that he never finished the mystery story because not enough people write about the Good Things in this life.

This was a good book. It was a gentle reminder to me that any writing I do, is good enough. I may not have made it into the highly competitive MFA programs I applied to all over the country. I may not ever get more than my Bachelors. But, I can always read and write about what matters to me... and best of all, I am learning how important it really is to read to my own kids.

So, no blog this inspiring should go without a resolution, right? Once a person gets married, they tend to start a family blog to keep friends updated on their ever-changing lives. John and I will eventually do this. Probably much sooner than later. But it won't be here in the refuge. He has already reminded me, this blog is for me and me only. I plan on making a resolution from here on to write a little weekly. Even if it is something small.... I need to write. Things here may not be finished or perfect, but they will be from me. And in the refuge... always feel free to read the little bits here. They will be genuine and everyone is welcome.

"Can I go to the bathroom?"

2008-12-04T19:25:00.000-08:00

Do you know how often I hear these words everyday? Let's just say if I was paid five cents every time this phrase was uttered, John and I would be living in a house.

So, this is my little update... A few things have happened since I wrote last. I am no longer single, turning the page on that chapter and now reading up on being a new wife. I also took a job teaching kindergarten at a private school. Instead of spending my time at a desk for eight hours, my day consists of picture books, 11am snacks, and the agonizing section of the day termed "nap time." This is one of the hardest parts of the day for me and for my kids. It seems to be against a 6 year old's nature to lay still on a cushy mat and listen to pretty music. I would sell my fingers and toes to lay down too, but my job is different.

At my school, they break in new teachers by putting them in Kindergarten. We learn ways to teach reading and math skills and do so by teaching with another experienced teacher. I am really an apprentice. But, I like to think I am the muscle that keeps the class in line.

While the other teachers teach, I sit in the back, or stand off to the side and practice saying things like, "No, there is only one capital letter in your name..." or "we do not use our scissors like that..." I pace the room, with my arms folded, watching and correcting. Our Christmas program is tomorrow and my sole job in the whole process has been to keep children from screaming Joy to the World and wiggling themselves right off the stage.

I expect motherhood to be something like this... though thankfully I will not give birth to 18 children at once and have them all reach Kindergarten at the same time. That would really suck.

Life as a new wife has been much more pleasing. I guess it always helps to marry your best friend. We were given the advice to always laugh and I think John and I have already mastered this. It has been so much fun to have someone there when you get home and someone to make Belgian waffles with on Saturday mornings. But it is best when we look back at how we got here and realize all the blind dates, past relationships and frustrating wedding plans were all worth it when it leads to something this good. Marriage is really cool.

However, I have decided it is time to learn how to do a few things like... how to cook. Happily I know how to clean and do laundry and those things can be relaxing when I have burned the bottom of our one and only pot again.

My favorite new pastime is drying stuff. We got a food dehydrator and I have dried apples, kiwis, peaches, pears, and pineapple slices. John got adventuresome and made homemade beef jerky. It tasted just like the 6 dollar stuff at 7-11 but our apartment smelled like a butcher shop for a few days.

I also like living in a new city. I still find myself gravitating to the D.C. because I know where everything is already as opposed to having to look up the nearest Barnes and Noble. But, Salt Lake has its definite pluses. We live in a beautiful area with lots of trees and most of the time it doesn't even feel like Utah. I found a new route to run and our apartment is as cozy as I could imagine. However, it takes a lot for the sun to get to us and we have little to no cell phone reception. Sometimes I just feel like I am on vacation in an unreachable land.

Well, I am going to end my update with a little list of the most important things I have learned in the last few months of my life. John said I am good at lists and I take pride in that fact!

Crock pots are the best cooking device ever invented
at school, imitation is really the sincerest form of flattery
small apartments get messy fast, but they clean up fast (this motivates me to have a small house)
even fake plants and flowers can make any room happier
recess is when someone's true character comes out
dried kiwi tastes like death but dried pears are fairly tasty
when you like someone, draw them a picture
Walmart has awesome deals on fake Christmas trees
sleeping in on Saturday mornings is the best part of the week
Red Box carries some really stupid movies that make me wish I got my dollar back
reading at home with your kids will be worth more than anything to a child
thanks you notes take longer than you think
Change in life keeps you on your toes and as long as you are trying, you never really fail anything.... you just keep practicing.

My Views on Love- #3, concerning music...

2008-07-21T07:35:00.000-07:00

This post is going to be a little different than the my other posts about love. After going to a concert the other night, I felt like it was extremely important for me to write about falling in love with a song.

The other night, I kept up my status as a "concert girl" and attended a free concert at the Galavant Center in downtown Salt Lake. Now, let me give you my background with the musician I saw there that night..... His name is Andrew Bird.

About a year ago, a friend introduced me to a song by Andrew Bird. The song was called "Sovay." It was VERY good but his music reminded me of the male version of Regina Spektor. A few months later, a friend who had gone to California to hear Andrew Bird, introduced me to all of his music. I put it on my ipod in a playlist called Birds and during a boring day in December, I listened to it blindly. I was at work and around 4 in the afternoon, I came across a ten minute instrumental piece with violins and crickets in the background. The piece was called "Ethiobirds" and it literally sounded like a mass of birds moving. I was blown away. It was beautiful. I told everyone about it! No one could quite get why I loved the song so much. But, slowly, I got very interested in this guy. I googled him and looked him up on Wikipedia and found Andrew bird was a thin, angled man from Chicago, with a suzuki education in violin. His lyrics rarely made complete sense to me, but usually they appeased my ears. He was an expert whistler and his voice was cool and relaxing in more than one way. I was hooked right away.

So, Back to the concert... That night, the crowd was annoying and about 85% were drinking and NOT paying attention to the entertainment. Being packed onto the grass with sweaty, stinking, people who were not aware of the music, created a plenty of tension. I was beyond frustrated. But then, Andrew Bird, lanky and dark haired, sang softly in the microphone and played long lines of his melody with the chaos of the guitars and drums. My head moved to one side and I connected with this guy. It was like he was playing and only I could hear. I fell in love with the music.

So, yeah. It sounds cheesy, but it is soooo real. It is possible to fall in love with a song. Don't believe me? Read the book The Awakening. It is totally possible.

Anyway, I want to give a few more examples of songs that I have fallen for harder than any teenage crush. Usually after hearing the song, I was hooked. I bought other songs and albums by the artist. But the greatest part is that I've listened to these songs over and over again and I still feel as much love for them as I did during the first listen . Some are popular some are weird. But, I feel it is my duty to share them.

*Till the Sun Turns Black- Ray LaMontagne: The whole album is wonderful, but when I heard this song and how it described the simple beauties of life, I lost myself in it. Plus, I've mentioned this guy's voice before and it is an instant aphrodisiac.

*Summertime- The Fire Theft: I think the rhythm moved me first on this one. Plus, Jeremy Enigk has the type of voice that is very rough and somehow it is strangely endearing. I somehow get drawn in every time. Oh, I also love the sea sounds at the end of the song. It makes me miss the ocean.

*The Scientist- Coldplay: Ok, I think everyone knows by now how much I love Coldplay. But, this was the first song that helped draw me in. I had heard "Yellow" and "Clocks," but this song was just so sweet and I am a sucker for the sweet ones.

*Silent Sigh-Badly Drawn Boy: I had never even heard of Badly Drawn Boy until a dear friend introduced me to the movie, About A Boy. I HIGHLY recommend it. It is British and the language is a bit rough for a pg-13. But... It has a wonderful moral and this song comes at such a pivotal scene! I used to listen to this song when I wanted a true dose of bittersweet. That word describes the movie perfectly too.

*Time is Running Out-Muse: I found out about Muse when I went to the "Twilight" website and read the playlists of songs Stephenie Meyer recommended as a soundtrack for her books. I like this song a lot and seeing it live last September was AWESOME!!!

*Atlantic-Keane: When I came across this song, I had an album of Keane already. However, when I heard this song, I was sold. This song builds and builds and then breaks. It is such a good one to listen to with headphones so you can hear all the layers.

*Daisy-Switchfoot: I think this has been of the most therapeutic song for me of all time! Switchfoot is a Christian Band, so they have awesome lyrics and messages to share. But, this song has really helped me when I have not had the courage to let go of something.

*Past and Pending- The Shins: Ok, I love "New Slang" as much as everyone else, but this song has always been soooo much better. I loved it and I think it is because it is so simple.

*Nothing Better-Postal Service: This one was introduced to me at the perfect time. It is a song of dialogue between two indie legends (Ben Gibbard and Jenny Lewis). The guy wants to get together and the girl needs to say no and stick to her answer. Postal Service came right when I was ready for a change in my music and this song stood above the rest on the Give Up album.

*Casimir Pulaski Day-Sufjan Stevens: Sufjan Stevens is a favorite of mine and always will be. His gentle voice, strange arrangements, and uplifting messages have always caught my attention fully. But, this song is sweet and about loving someone who is gone. It is the song that made me realize how awesome Sufjan really is.

*Carousel- Iron and Wine: It took me a while to recognize the beauty of this song, but one day when I was doing the dishes, this song came over the ipod and it struck me hard. Sam Beam sounded like he was singing underwater. Then, I saw it live and now the song is a classic, beautiful example to me of Iron and Wine at their best.

So, that is my little list of first loves. If you read this blog and like it, please make a comment and let me know what songs you have fallen in love with. I am always looking for new music!!

My Views on Love-Installment #2

2008-07-01T10:10:00.000-07:00

It has been a little too long since I posted anything new... and the time has come for me to write! Many of you know I don't usually use the blog to write about new things in my life, as much as I write about ideas and the current musings of my mind. Let me see if I can do something that will appease both.

So, yes. I am engaged to be married. I got engaged June 13th at Red Butte Gardens and it has been a CRAZY ride since then. Mostly because I have no idea how to plan a wedding and those plans, combined with preparation for a new job teaching Kindergarten (starting just a little less than a week before I am married this Fall) was enough stress to throw me off into my wild orbits of craziness.

But, I want to say, I am very, very lucky. I am marrying a man who is kind, dedicated, loving, passionate, and my best friend. And, this leads me to an issue I wish to address.....

Most of you will remember my first post on love and my definition of love (love is having faith in someone). This definition is as true now as it ever was. However, since I started dating and since I got engaged, I have been VERY frustrated with Chick Flicks. Some of them make a mockery of love and faith. I am sorry if anyone is offended by this. I must admit, I still watch them... but to me, Love is not what the movies portray. It is not a hurried, flashy, gooey story where the man and woman fall deeply in love on the spot. I guess a prime example of this movie is Sleepless in Seattle.

Now, I love the movie for its humor and its hilarious portrayal of the differences between men and women. But, can we really believe that "magic" is the one and only thing people need to survive? No. Love is so much deeper than that. I agree there needs to be an element of passion and excitement, but to me love is literally a divine connection between two people. Not something strange and unknown.

Ok, so you say, "Katie, what chick flicks are good chick flicks?" Well, first let me preface these suggestions by saying they are not the typical "chick flicks." But I believe they do a nice job of showing different aspects of love.

If I were to pick a movie of the Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan vein, I think I would choose Joe Vs. the Volcano. I like the love story in this one. I also like how Joe Banks meets three different variations of Meg Ryan before they seem to connect and make a strong relationship. I think that is very true to life. In many ways we date and meet people who are "versions" of the type of person we are to eventually be happy with.

Um, another movie I love that seems to stand well against my standards....The Village. Yeah, I know. It is a scary movie, but the love story is soooo heart-warming. Love is the only virtue that can truly save us. Heck, I think Harry Potter incorporated that same theme too. (Note: Believe it or not, the love story in Walle was quite touching too and I cried. That is pretty rare for me, the heartless wench that I am, who never cries).

Though all of these movies are great, I still feel the best Love Stories were written by the All-Knowing Queen of Love, Jane Austen. Yes. I am sure any guy readers of this blog have now rolled their eyes or clicked off the page. But what I am trying to say is, that Jane Austen's love stories involve the exact elements that make love real. And NO, I am not talking about marrying millionaires. But, I am talking about a flawed man and a flawed woman, working through their own faults before they can love each other.
I am talking about two best friends who have grown up together and have never thought about love and then almost let fear stand in the way of their happiness. And I am talking about recognizing true love, over the flighty opinions of others. Or recognizing devotion and happiness over the prideful reckless behavior that can sting so badly. This is why I believe it.
The last element that makes Jane Austen's love stories REAL... the very real element of TIME. Love takes time. Love is all about Patience. I always think of Lizzie and Mr. Darcy and how much they had to go through before they got together. I think they learned a lot about each other and a lot about what true love is. But I bet things weren't always perfect after they were married, even if they were living in that trillion dollar mansion, Pemberly. But, I bet they loved each other enough to work through anything.

So, maybe in the future I can write a long list of the chick flicks that portray love as it really is. But I really just wanted to say I am grateful to of had the sense to recognize love in my own life. I understand the connection between two people and their own personal connection with God. I firmly believe you can't love someone until you love God and you love yourself. I'm just glad God wants us to be happy and that he is endlessly patient with me. Knowing that, has always given me the faith to love without fear.

"What Comes is Better Than What Came Before"

2008-05-14T07:26:00.000-07:00

Mosiah 21: 16 And it came to pass that they began to prosper by degrees in the land.

I am sick. And this is not going to be one of those blogs where someone uses it as a complaining wall and dumps all their frustrations out for everyone with Internet access to read. But, I came across this verse in my reading of the Book of Mormon the other day and it sparked a thought in me. One thought, led to another (as most thoughts do) and I realized something... In the words of the Beatles, "Its Getting Better All the Time."

On May 4th, my throat began to tickle. I wanted to cough, but really I had nothing to cough about. So...I didn't think anything of it. May 5th, I woke up in a panic. I was getting sick and I felt it coming. Slowly. Most may not know this about me, but when I get sick, I usually name the virus I have. It is common for human beings to get sick with several different types of cold in their lifetime and so, when I get sick it makes me feel better to assign a name and number to each virus.

This cold was virus #1100, or "the crawling cold." It started out slowly, and has been crawling through me as slow as possible, since the beginning of May. It also arrived at a week in which I had many things planned and I sacrificed almost everything to virus #1100. I missed my good friend's wedding reception, dinner with a co-worker who I had not seen in a year, a french goodbye party for another friend, a trip to California with my boyfriend and his family, and worst of all... I missed the Breast Cancer 5k Run for the Cure. All of these things were sacrificed as well as two days of work and my regular eating and exercising routine and for almost two weeks. Life has sucked. My nose is raw, and dry and I can't laugh without having to cough. I sound like a full-grown man for the first 3 hours of the day and I haven't been able to breathe fully or swallow without wincing for over a week.

But, this morning I woke up and for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was getting better "in degrees." I love that phrase because it truly captures what this life is all about. This life never flips on its side and sheds its problems like the skin of a snake, but instead, we see things improve one by one. The infuriating thing too is that this is also how I learn... by degrees.

I laid in bed this morning and I started to breathe a little deeper and my head wasn't as heavy. And I listened to one bird outside become three, trilling and chattering in the trees. Slow open blue shades slid across the sky and my room became brighter in degrees. Then I thought of how the seasons yank us back and forth until we are sick to our stomachs of winter and snow and thick inversion, and then... one day, we look outside and the sweet warm weather stays for a whole week instead of an afternoon. Or, after the burning stench of summer, we finally get a cool rain in September and a breeze, kind enough to lighten the burden. The key to it all is recognizing the improvement by degrees so as not to sink into depression that can accompany any lull.

Call me an amber-eyed optimist if you must, but colds do come to an end, bad hair cuts do grow out, pulled muscles and broken hearts do heal... and the minute I stop thinking about what I want to change, my life improves by degrees and my heart grows lighter.

five new discoveries

2008-04-29T07:38:00.000-07:00

Usually I don't endorse advertisements on my blog, but today I feel it is my duty to write about five products that almost EVERYONE would benefit from. Each have made my life a little happier in the last month and I fully support them!

Settebello's pizza

This is a new restaurant in Salt Lake City, just off of 260 south and 200 west. Honestly, this is the best pizza I have ever had. The owners belong to a group called VERA Pizza who believe in keeping pizza as authentic to the Italian way as possible. This pizza is thin and baked in a woodfire oven at the center of the room. Toppings are never heavy and thick, but just perfectly accenting the flavor of the pizza. Plus, the gelato is heavenly! My suggestion, call ahead, put your name on the call-ahead list and when you get there... order the Bianca pizza. It is a cheese pizza (no sauce) with fresh slices or prosciutto, Parmesan cheese and arugula. Add some Balsamic Vinegar and you will swear you are in Italy.

Ray Lamontagne's album, Trouble

ok, My Boss was the one who introduced me to this amazing Musician. Ray Lamontagne has one of the sweetest, smoothest voices in the world and it WILL make any woman melt. But, my brother's roommate's best friend was the one who convinced me to look into this first album. It is filled with songs that comfort and talk of the true nature of love. It is surprisingly positive and still sensual. Sort of a cross between Iron and Wine and James Taylor. It is a must-have. For those of you who love itunes, pick up songs: Jolene, Shelter, Forever My Friend, and All the Wild Horses.

Bare Essentials make up

Audible.com

So, I am not a very busy person right now at my job. The housing market is pretty slow and pretty bad. And, when it is busy, I still spend a lot of quality time with my ipod because I could do this work in my sleep. But, dare I say it... music only goes so far. I need intelligence. I need books. My boyfriend's sister was the one who really encouraged me to sign up with Audible.com. This is how it works: You fill out some info on-line and choose the plan you want and then for a monthly fee, you can download a book or two to listen to on your ipod. Some would argue the library is better, but I like having the book on my computer. Plus, if you sign up now, you can pay like $7.50 a month for one book credit for the first three months (then it goes up to $14.00). It is a good deal.... and so far I have been super pleased! I read Austenland Shannon Hale and am now into Life of Pi. For the ipod generation, it is a miraculous idea!

Gaiam cardio fusion dvd

Those of you who know me, know I LOVE Billy Blanks and Taebo. However, sometimes I get bored. But, while I have always loved Yoga, and even at times Pilates, I have never gotten the good cardio work out Billy offered. But-this DVD is awesome. Mostly because it has a little bit of everything.
It starts out with good stretches and light yoga, then you do awesome cardio with squats that are REALLY effective. Then you do some Pilates and finish with Yoga. It touches everything and you feel so healthy afterwards. AND- the instructor is kind and does the whole workout with you. She is not obnoxious or rude. In fact she is Swedish and I feel like we could be friends.
Then to top it all off in true granola fashion, the dvd comes in an eco-friendly recycled cardboard box. priceless. Actually at Target it is about 15 bucks. Not bad for a good workout DVD you can do at home without a mat or weights or blocks.

So, there you have it. Ads on my blog... but only for products I believe in because they have improved my quality of life. Now, maybe I could get some compensation from these companies!

LIVE MUSIC!!!! -my history of being a recent concert girl

2008-04-24T09:22:00.001-07:00

This past evening, I had the pleasure of going to the Grand Saltaire by the pungent shores of the Great Salt Lake to hear Ben Folds play the piano like a man on fire.

While pressed up against the ledge of the bar area overlooking the stage, it occurred to me that I have hit a new stage of my life... the active concert participant. I never believed myself a "concert girl." The people I knew who went to concerts were the people who would attend hard punk concerts, thriving in smoke, booze, and mosh pits. I just never saw the appeal of that scene growing up. I never wanted to risk my bones and vitals by going to a concert with a mass of stinking teenagers, ramming their bodies against each other. So... my teenage angst came out in other ways... like my obsession with musicals at the age of 17.

Now at age 25 I try to decide on what has kept me from this enjoyment... either the music is better than when I was in high school, or I am more finally active in the music scene. As a teenager, I only wanted to hear the Beatles in concert and that was never going to happen. There are major drawbacks to being so involved in music from 30 years prior. However, my first REAL concert was seeing the only Beatle that would come to Utah.... Ringo and his All Star Band!

I remember the concert was very good, but nothing to make me want to drop another 40-60 bucks again. I guess money has been a factor too.

Eventually, I took the job I have now, processing home loans. It was here I met a few people who opened up a brand new musical area of my life.... The Indie genre. My brother had been my prior musical sensai, but at this job I met people who were into bands that were just forming and had a definite connection to my preferences. Suddenly my musical tastes expanded and my musical sensais doubled. It was fun to share songs, groups and album titles among friends.

So, here I took my first leap into the thriving beautiful land of concerts. Around the beginning of September of last year and following a break up, I went to a MUSE concert with several friends who had nothing in common but their love for loud music.

Juliette Lewis and the Licks opened and kept me laughing in mockery of her songs, (especially the song, Sticky Sticky Sticky) before Muse came out and rattled me to the joints. It was loud and repressed explosive music and I was in heaven. I went home elated and ready for more .

The next concert I took on was Regina Spektor. This was my first introduction to The Venue in Salt Lake. It was also the first time I was so grateful I was of drinking age. Not because I drink, but because I could now watch the concert from the Bar above, instead of being squashed in the massive pit of stinking teens, eager to get a wave from Regina. A guy named Only Son opened for her and he was a quite a nice discovery. Regina Spektor was kind and softspoken, even as she told the audience to (please excuse me!!!) "shut the F*** up, she used her "inside" voice. But regardless, I was just impressed with her pure talent. Honestly, she had a pure voice and her singing live was just as good as any of her recordings.

In November, I got the chance to see Billy Joel at the Delta Center and he was just as fun as I hoped. Though, I prefer the smaller venue to the Delta Center because you feel like you are actually meeting the musician instead of watching a picture on the jumbo-tron. But, nothing beats We Didn't Start the Fire, live!!! That was worth ever bit of squinting.

The last and most amazing concert of 2007 was Iron and Wine. This was my first concert at the Great Saltaire. It was also the first really bad snow of the season and driving in and out of the storm was not fun. However, this concert had a feeling of pure surreal euphoria. It literally didn't feel real. Sam Beam was long haired and bearded and next to his red haired, violinist sister, they made quite the pair. Snow fell all night along the shore of the Salt Lake, and every song felt slower than usual, streaming endlessly into the next. A feeling of early Christmas good will, settled in as everyone left the parking lot, pleasant and polite as I had ever seen one group of people.

Then last night, I went back to the Saltaire with my boyfriend to see Ben Folds rock out on his Baldwin. We started with a few too many opening acts. Yet, I loved Ben Lee and his optimistic attitude as technically everything went wrong with the sound system. I prefer to follow his advice and embrace the chaos of live music!

When Ben Folds arrived I had forgotten what a total nerd he was. At 41, he was sporting his traditional t-shirt and dirty brown pants and thick Buddy Holly glasses. But as he, his blonde drummer, and tall dark bassist pounded out music straight from 9 to 11, my body was left vibrating with the choruses of I Wanna Be Kate, Army, Jesusland and a strange new song called Free Coffee. He also played my two favorites, The Luckiest and Landed. The night was raw and loud and fun.

What next? Well, I want to keep up this habitual concert habit as long as I don't let it put me into debt (but I have been pretty lucky so far). I hear the master of love, Al Green is coming and maybe some Death Cab for Cutie would be a good addition to my list. Plus, someday maybe I will be blessed to see some of the people I would really LOVE to meet.... Sufjan Stevens, Andrew Bird, and Coldplay(which might be possible someday since their newest album comes out in about a month or two.)

Either way, nothing compares to the thriving pulse of an audience eager to enjoy the talent of others. You just can't bottle energy like that.

A Weakness Becoming a Strength

2008-04-21T10:00:00.000-07:00

Ether 12: 27 And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.

When I was in Jr. High, it was common every Friday in gym class to run the mile. This consisted of running four times around a narrow track on the field while being dressed in an ugly white tee shirt and blue shorts or sweats. I still remember lining up on the field and falling into one huge lump that would immediately spread as the signal was given to begin running.

This one activity was the source of about 75% of my Jr. High angst. I frequently got stomach aches, even thinking about running.

Prior to my first run, I remember thinking I would be fine. But, I was embarrassed beyond belief with my first attempt to run the mile.

I grew up dreading playing sports because I my only sibling was an older brother who had 5 years of sports on me. His favorite game was to play basketball "around" me as I desperately tried to keep up. I naturally lacked physical talent in most sports (except badminton). So, as I got older, I stayed inside at recess and "talked" or "hung out." Those who know me, know I still love people and conversations. It was easier to talk to someone than play them in basketball. Sadly however, this didn't allow me enough physical exercise to balance my bad eating habits and by the time I reached Jr. High, I was quite overweight for my age. Until that point, I had slid by in gym and everything else... until I had to begin running the mile. And... unless you had asthma or a bleeding limb, you were never excused from the joy of running every Friday. It was a mini-nightmare for me.

Running literally felt like death to me. I would run the mile every Friday and spend the rest of the day in my classes, coughing and feeling as if I had burned the inside of my lungs. It was a horrid thing to me, but for the most part, I just kept running. I got used to being slow. I learned I wasn't one of those kids in the class with the long legs and swift gate, who ultimately finished the mile in 5 minutes and passed you three times when you were on lap one.

Over the years, I improved. I made it through high school and actually lost most of the weight through some major changes in diet, regular exercise (I liked kickboxing), and some serious mental focus. However, I still hated running. Always.

Then, something happened. I was living in New Zealand, feeling rather tired and overwhelmed with my lack of physical care. I was eating badly again and I wasn't doing much except walking to classes on campus. I hated the gym, but it was free for students and I had used treadmills before. However, running with music was an amazing experience. The music motivated me to keep moving when I wanted to sit out. As I started to run that first time, I felt my heart thump awake and my skin open like it was taking a deep breath for me.

Thus began my slow conversion to running.

When I got home from my study abroad, I had no treadmill and couldn't afford anything except a good pair of headphones for my discman. So, I began running outside. The experience was so much more gratifying than running on a treadmill or even running in long loose circles on a track outside.

Soon, I was running along the sidewalks and roads in Spring, smelling the flowers open as the mid-May air heated gardens and lawns. My favorite thing has always been that first 4 minutes of running in warm Spring weather, when the blood in your body spreads from your heart and the pores of your skin open like small flowers. It was enough to get me out every Saturday morning.

Now... my speed has not improved much, but my endurance has. I used to run 2-3 miles at the most and now, I am just shy of 5 miles and climbing. I bought snazzy new running shoes and I have up graded my discman to the Nano ipod with one of those Nike + accessories that tracks your progress via sensor you attach to your shoe. (It is a really fun to have a little voice come across your music and report how far you've run. The purchase was worth it!)

Last year, I decided to conquer one of my fears and run an organized 5K. I chose to run the Breast Cancer run in May, and this was one of my favorite accomplishments of 2007. Running alone can be an amazing experience as you soak in your surroundings and truly dissolve in your own thoughts. But, running with a large, teeming group of people for a cause, can be one of the most invigorating and rewarding experiences a person can have.

Honestly, I still don't consider myself a runner.... Maybe a slow jogger. And, I have yet to approach a 10k or the ultimate for me, the half marathon. But, I marvel at how something I hated with a passion could literally become one of my passions.

Running for me has become a strength because I worked at it and I found a way to enjoy what I despised. It still isn't easy and my body is not as "in-shape" as I wish... not even close. But, sometimes just moving, and making steps in the right direction can be enough to propel you down a road you never thought you would take.

Who knows, maybe someday I will be able to pound my brother in basketball!

Time of the Season

2008-04-16T09:12:00.000-07:00

I am more than ready to begin living my second favorite season, Spring. Here are 7 simple things that bring joy to those of us still stuck in the last cough of winter.

#1 Bike Rides

So, I haven't ridden a bike since I was ten. However, after Lent this year, I chose a new bike as my reward for surviving a ridiculous 37 days with no dessert.

This beautiful, low step, girly Trek bike is my new favorite Spring activity. I still ride like a ten year old, slowing down at every curve, and getting nervous around cars. But, the feeling of coasting past my elementary school at age 25, while listening to Iron and Wine on a Saturday afternoon, can lift one's spirits to new heights.

#2 Time of the strawberries

I love the shape of strawberries and their deafening red color. Heart-shaped and smooth, I love them sliced over cereal, in whipped cream, or between two pieces of bread with jam to make a strawberry sandwich. This was my invention when we were low on lunch items and surprisingly, it really tastes good and makes me happy.

#3 Dandelion Wine

This wonderful book is all about two boys who make the slow turn into Spring and approaching Summer. Bradbury spends one chapter describing the pure joy a little boy has when getting a new pair of shoes to run in. It is a perfect Spring (and Summer) read. It always reminds me of the importance of having wind chimes when one is sick in bed.

#4 Jandle time

I am talking flip flops or as the Kiwis from NZ call them, the beloved jandles. All I know, is that the season has OFFICIALLY changed when you can slip off the shoes and socks and let your toes out.

#5 Birds in the morning

I do believe my favorite sign of Spring is the return of the birds (though nothing compares to the birds I woke up to during a New Zealand spring). But still, I LOVE waking up to a semi-light morning and having the urgent voices of birds outside, trilling and soaring. It is such a wonderful addition to the music I wake up to... though, it is quite ironic since I wake up to Andrew Bird (seriously, I highly recommend this guy... he is a favorite).

#6 Daffodils and Tulips

The other day, I was running outside and I passed the edge of a neighbors lawn. The tired heads of tulips were starting to break the surface of the lawn. I felt so much motivation, I ran faster! But really, I love the tulips that fill gardens, the spring green leaves all over willow trees, and the daffodils that explode in heated yellow.

My favorite demonstration of daffodils comes from a little house in Bountiful. My brother, my boyfriend, and our other friend all live in the ultimate bachelor pad. However, from the outside, this little white house has explosive amounts of daffodils in the yard, making everything as picturesque as ever. You'd never expect three bachelors to be the house's only tenants.

#7 Kite flying

And the best for last... to fly a kite is to taste of a bird's life. I did this successfully last year as a part of my 25 things to do before I turned 25 list and it was a joy in itself. I bought a Sponge Bob kite and at Toys R Us and flew it at Antelope Island, with the sun setting and the Salt Lake breathing heavy and low in late spring.

Aah, what a lovely time of year.

Published!!!

2008-03-31T14:58:00.001-07:00

It is really hard being a writer. Rejection is something you have to adjust to like a hot shower... before long, you just don't feel the burn anymore. However, when things work out in your favor, you must always celebrate.

One of my poems was recently chosen to be published in the Literary Magazine, Weber Studies. This is a poem I wrote for a professor who recently passed away from cancer.

In my experience, poems rarely come finished. Usually you have to sort through the garbage you write that needs to be weeded out. This poem felt different from the start and it was an answer to a prayer.
Hope you like it!

Occupation-to Ken Brewer

After diagnosis,
he turned over his half-written
notebook and began to work
until the last swallow of life was left.

Writing wouldn’t be rationed.

When we are told
how many
breaths are left,
and approximately how
long it takes cancer to eat
at the liver, lungs or breast,
our nature may move us into
our final occupation.
These are the jobs we’ve possibly lived
or lost
or neglected.

We become the philosophers,
complainers,
and lovers—
caught cursing
or crying
the day
the heavy hand
of God is set
on our shoulders,
and we are painfully asked
to leave.

My passion for Peeps-an insight into an obsession

2008-03-19T07:27:00.000-07:00

Those who know me on a personal level are aware of my love for Peeps. But, when I peruse the Peeps website or get excited about a new color of Peep, or bring Peeps to share at a party, many cringe and look at me as if I have lost my mind(or at least my sense of taste). This post is a simple explanation of how I can feel such love for a sugared, three dimensional, marshmallow treat.

In classic Psycho-analytic form, I blame my father for this obsession. For as long as I can remember, my Dad has been obsessed with eating marshmallows. He taught me to place your classic "campfire marshmallows" in a pie tin in the oven at broil, and flip them over as they brown. And... there you have it, INSTANT GOO. I inherited my Dad's sugar fetish and have proudly developed into a "Peep freak" just like him.

As kids, Peeps were an Easter staple: Hot Cross Buns, Honey Baked Ham, warm potatoes, fresh rolls, and Peeps. Everyone knows there are two ways to eat Peeps. My dad is a die-hard chewy peep fan. He still rips off the plastic and leaves them out for weeks, months and on one occasion, a year (when my mom learned of that instance, she made sure that would never happen again). I myself, enjoy them soft. But, contrary to popular myth, Peeps do not roast well. It is true that watching a Peep explode in the microwave provides endless entertainment, but eating the Peep afterwards proves to be a negative experience.

This Peep fetish runs in my family. My grandma gave all the grandkids packages of Peeps at Easter. My uncles love Peeps. Even my Aunt had a "Peep incident" at her work when a fellow employee put a Peep on a shelf near the ceiling, let it sit for almost 4 years and then ate it. (note: this blog does not condone any such behavior with a Peep).!

As I got older, Peeps changed with the changing times. The stiff bunny and pompous looking chick evolved into the Vanilla and Strawberry Creme hearts at Valentines. Soon we had orange pumpkins, white ghosts, black spiders and bats, and Frankenstein heads at Halloween. Then, Christmas trees and gingerbread men Peeps appeared. I was elated a few years ago to see an actual Peep inside a chocolate egg and a "decorating kit" for white egg Peeps. Though these four holidays are the only holidays with Peeps, it has been rumored New Years Peeps exist. I will believe it when I see it!

I have also allowed Peeps to affect my personal goals and traditions. A few years ago, I was dyeing eggs with my friends at Easter and I started getting goofy, taking fun pictures of Peeps. This soon became a tradition. Last year, I decided to attempt to make my own Peeps. This proved to be an AWESOME experience. However, it is true in this case, store bought Peeps taste much better than homemade.

This year, for Lent, I decided to sacrifice sugar. It has been an intense escapade, but in a matter of days, I will be able to eat a sugared Peep, guilt free! (Note: Sugar-free Peeps do exist and though they taste the same, the strange thickness of the marshmallow and warnings on the package of a "laxative effect" should be enough to encourage only the consumption of real Peeps).

So, in honor of Easter and its many traditions (i.e. plastic eggs full of Robin Eggs, Hollow chocolate bunnies, and Charlton Heston) I honor the Peep. It is truly a modern day marvel!

A poem to pass the time...

2008-02-27T09:14:00.001-08:00

Tane Mahuta*

The Maoris told us you
lifted our parents apart,
an eternal divorce
for our own good,
so we might bloom
in their shadows.

By this act,
we’ve learned to separate,
to walk away,
and somewhere
between their color
and heat,
we move

across our mother
and under the blue
back of our father,
unable to recognize
their faces.

Within the Waipoua Forest,
you’ve dressed in age
and kept your limbs
pressed into the belly of our father,
pleading for us,
while we believe
we are the source of light.

* the son of Mother Earth and Father Sky in Maori legend. It is also the name of an ancient Kauri tree in New Zealand, between 1250 and 2500 years old.

My Views On Love

2008-02-13T18:05:00.000-08:00

“Righteous love comes so naturally and so beautifully
that it is apparent that there is a
special providence about it.”—Boyd K. Packer

This post has been rattling around in the recesses of my brain for sometime, but I have had a hard time trying to organize these thoughts. However, in honor of Valentine's Day, I believe it is time to step up and deliver. I need to get down in words many of the "theories" I've adopted. This post will give a bit of my own background in love and what I believe.

Let me start out with the fact that I am single. I am in my twenties and have never been married or engaged. So, I am not an expert in love. However, I have learned a lot about myself in the last two years worth of realtionships. My disclaimer is that these opinions are just opinions.

My early experiences with love were just the typical crush. The earliest crushes of my life consisted of a constant flow of thoughts and excitment towards one boy, either in my class, neighborhood, or somtimes my older brother's best friend. I can't even begin to name all of my crushes. Many of them were fleeting, but intense... only on my part of course. In fact, I remember going through a phase where I firmly believed you impress the person you like by trying to insult them. I guess it was the notion of trying to be "one of the guys" earned you respect. But, then you get treated like one of the guys. Yes, this was a terrible idea and it never quite yielded the results I wanted.

But, the older I got, the more I learned. Usually I liked one my of my guy friends and nothing came of it except me being their "best friend." The guy would come to me and talk about the girl they really liked. I gave great advice because I wanted them to be happy. Then, I hurt. This phase of my life has been steady for years.

Eventually I hit a phase in my life where the guys I fell for, began to like me back. It was an impressive thing to have your feelings returned. Through college, I dated and continued to learn about myself. Somewhere in 2003, I sat with a friend of mine and sorted out my own theories on love. I broke down my views on love into three charateristics every woman wants in a man. Let me explain....

It is easiest to see as a triangle. I call it the "Love Triangle" and it consists of three factors; the Darth Vader Factor, the Geek Factor, and the Intrigue Factor.

The Darth Vader Factor can best be described by the following: Women want a man who could be bad, but isn't. This means, we don't want a guy who is evil, but someone who may have had a darker side at one time, (or could have had a darker side) and has chosen to be good. He is the guy who has chosen goodness over rebellion. Now, it could be debated Darth Vader was a REALLY evil guy for sometime, but he also saved his son in the end, and he was never all bad like everyone believed. The key to this factor is knowing where someone's heart is.

The Geek Factor can really be described as the small things the guy will do that gives him weakness. If he waves to you when he sees you and then trips, it is cute. Most guys don't understand this, but women don't want a guy who is perfect. We want to feel equal and it is good to see a guy's flaws.

The Intrigue Factor is hard to describe. But, it is the factor that is different for everyone. Every guy has talents, and shines in their own unique way. Sometimes an accent will be intriguing, or his ability to speak another language or make really good ommlettes. This factor involves personal aptitude. Sometimes just the way he looks at you can make you WANT TO KNOW HIM.

Triangles can be skewed since almost no guys are a "perfect triangle." But, I have also noticed one thing about the triangle theory... Women tend to be attracted to the factor they are lacking. For example, if a girl has been a "goody two shoes" all her life, she may be more attracted to the Darth Vader types. I guess you can say, "opposites attract." But, remember to give all factors a place. Too much of any one thing can be bad.

So, that is the break down I came up with several years ago. It makes sense for the most part. I still believe in the Love Triangle, but in many ways, I have grown up a lot. I now see guys as hopefully they see me... fellow human beings, with facets and flaws, despartely trying to make the best of an uncertain future. Really, the key is to keep moving. There will always be exceptions to every rule and once you decide something, you will have to eat your words. Even theories only go so far. Relationships allow us to learn about ourself.

For instance, I somehow survived a phase of my life that was nothing but blind dates (It can be REALLY terrible to have parents who met on a blind date). Most of the time, they were bad. REALLY BAD. But, the best blind date I ever went on turned into a 4 month realtionship that taught me a lot about myself. I don't regret my experiences. Somtimes, I regret my ridiculous behavior when I have been in "love." But, I am grateful for all of it.

When it comes down to it, I believe in love. I believe love is natural. I believe when you start wanting to spend a lot of time with someone, ask yourself why. I believe in COMPLETE honesty. AND I MEAN THAT!!! Yes, there is something to be said for timing... but without communication and honesty, you two can never be on the same page. And, being on the same page with someone is literally joy. I believe in finding someone who brings out your best self and your most genuine side. I believe in loving every bit of someone... all their facets and flaws. I believe in moving on and I believe in second chances. I believe in choices.

One day, I was talking to my grandmother about love. I saw how she and my grandpa lived a devoted, loving life together. In my religion, when two people are married, they are married for eternity. The idea always scared me so badly. I didn't know how you could KNOW. I believe God will help us know, but how can that decision ever be made? How can you REALLY KNOW? Then it hit me... you won't. Not at first anyway. You will hopefully find someone as dedicated to you as much as you are to them... and you move on from there. You will spend the rest of eternity spending your life with someone, growing and loving them more and more. You don't start out at level 10, but work the rest of your life to get there. In the end, you examine all options and you choose. Then, you move forward without fear.

I believe the scripture that says Love conquers all fear. I don't think anything could be any more true. Love is having faith in somone. I have taken risks. I have moved forward. And others have taken risks on me and have given freely. Someone has had faith in me and to me, that is love. I have chosen love.

my love affair with Coldplay

2008-01-30T10:28:00.000-08:00

Many people in my life have wondered at my intense love of the band Coldplay. Many see them as U2 wannabe's and hear their music as nothing special. They have the classic watered-rock British sound, with tenor lead singer etc. However, I wish to take my lunch break and defend the top reasons why Coldplay is my favorite band.

Reason #1: I am drawn to the British bands

This might sound like a lame excuse, but it is the honest truth. I have traced back my musical tastes and other than a strange attraction to Ace of Base for a time, I have always leaned towards the Brits. It began with the Beatles and their consistent presence in my earliest years. Then enter The Rolling Stones, The Hollies, The Turtles, The Guess Who, Oasis, etc. Recently I have embraced bands such as Keane, (sort of British),Badly Drawn Boy, Travis, and Muse. But, Coldplay has been the only band to rival the Beatles in my dedication.

Reason #2: Their lyrics are honest

Once again, many have complained to me about the negativity of Coldplay's lyrics. It is true, some of their earlier songs can be a bit of a downer (i.e. Such a Rush, Only Superstition, etc) But I don't see negativity in their lyrics as much as honesty. I hear songs like Amsterdam, and Don't Panic, Help is Round the Corner, and See You Soon and can't ignore what I like to call the "Dark Chocolate Factor, or the bittersweet factor. The song may seem sad, but there is a smooth, sweet message that overpowers sadness in the end.

Reason #3: I love Chris Martin's voice

I am a singer and therefore, I realize a lot of lead singers out there, suck. It seems very rare these days to hear a talented lead singer. But, ever since I first heard Chris Martin's voice, I was impressed with his control and the natural seamless quality of his voice. It is strong and yet, never garish. My dream is to hear him live and compare; (since many singers have the advantage of technology to assist them in matters of tone in the studio) but, I have the 2003 live album and concert and I have seen live performances and I believe he is talented and as good as he sounds.

Reason #4 These band members are talented

Like his voice, I have always been impressed with Chris Martin's talent as a song writer and piano player. I also understand the drummer,Will Champion is a very talented guitar player who picked up the drums and adapted to be in the band. I have a high respect for instrumentalists who can play more than one instrument and be true musicians.

And Reason #5!!!

Coldplay is a comfort band for me;">There is a story behind this one... In Spring of 2003, a friend of mine played me Coldplay's big single, Yellow. I liked it, but I was not, in any way in love. However, it was enough to leave an impression on me. July of 2003 I was preparing to move to New Zealand to go to a study abroad. In search of some new music and on a whim (these were the days before I was an itunes junkie), I picked up their recent album, A Rush of Blood to the Head. It had stickers all over it from the awards they won at the Grammy's. I took it home and popped it in. I wasn't sure how I felt till I heard The Scientist. I immediately fell in love. Then, I got sick with a terrible cold. One week before I was to fly out, I was in bed, listening to Green Eyes and feeling comforted as I dreaded the large trip I was taking.

In New Zealand, my life changed. I was on my own for the first time, and I was on the other side of the world. I listened to the Rush of Blood album a lot. It helped me feel better when I was homesick. Then, curious, I picked up Parachutes while in New Zealand. Immediately, I fell in love with that album. I was hooked.

So, the top reason why I love Coldplay leads back to how they make me feel. I associate them with some of the scariest and best times of my life. And, when things are REALLY bad, I listen to them and I feel much stronger. Many of their songs have conveyed my exact feelings at various times of my life. Let's just hope they come around someday and I get the chance to listen to them live as one in the happy masses.

The Entertainer

2008-01-18T12:30:00.000-08:00

ok, let's see if we can pull off a full-blown blog in a lunch hour!!! HAHAHA!!!

No, seriously... I wanted to take a quick moment and write about the history of playing the piano in my life. It has turned out to be something I have truly loved and lost and now, I come back to it with open arms.

Eight years old, I sat on a little stool at our gnarled 100 year old upright piano. When I was six, I had memories of my brother sitting at its keys and playing The Entertainer over and over again. Taking piano lessons would be my moment in the sun. So, I started to learn, and ultimately grew bored with playing silly two note songs over and over again. It wasn't that I was ahead of my time, but rather irresponsible. I wouldn't practice. Instead, I would sit at the keyboard and press 5-8 notes at a time with my hands in the upper and lower half of the keyboard. I simulated the "music" of storms and was drawn to the sound of the second to the highest octave. I experimented and sounded like some Modern Charles Ives, paying no attention to rules. I never bothered to learn any rules.

As you can imagine, this didn't last long. Maybe one year at the most and then add at least another 6-8 years of hearing, "you should have stayed with the piano and practiced... imagine how good you'd be by now." But, about the age of 18, I was forced to slice up those words and eat them with my pride.

I realized my junior year, I loved to sing. I wasn't the best singer, but I had talent. Enough talent to work hard and keep up with all the sopranos who had been in singing lessons since they were 7. Music and singing became my life. But I couldn't read a note. In an attempt to create musical improvement (and keep my vocal scholarship at WSU), I put myself through the largest crash course of all time: college music classes.

I started at the very beginning with a fast paced fundamentals class and pulled myself through a year of Keyboarding, Music Theory, Ear training and Sight Singing. Along with this, I broke away from the melody and comfort zone of the soprano line and began singing parts in the two choirs I was in. I struggled more than I even remember, but happily, this earned me a music minor (which I believe took more time than my 2 year English/creative writing degree). I didn't need a minor, but I did it for me.

"Is this some moralistic story in which Katie is trying to preach to us," you ask? No. I really just wanted to say that I am glad I did it, because now I can play the piano for myself. I am still very bad at the piano. I never learned to practice. But, I can bleed and fall through a song and eventually learn to play it well. And, I am the one who benefits most.

Now, when I play the piano, my mind zones out and takes off. I re-run ideas, and recent conversations and function in a beautiful peaceful state. It is how I feel when I go running. I do something taking concentration and it allows my mind peace.

Recently I have returned to the piano. I had taken an extended break after a bad recital last May. Last night was the first time I picked up my music and really played. It felt liberating and lovely and I am ashamed, after all I have learned, I let fear and embarrassment get the better of me. Here's to Chopin in 2008!!!

The Year of Joy

2008-01-16T19:31:00.000-08:00

"Adam fell that men might be; and men are that they might have joy." -2nd Nephi 2:25

I have never been very fond of New Years. While other people find it an amazing time to make resolutions and jump into diets, I see it as the stagnant middle. The dead center of January, winter full blown, and a time when sunlight is lacking. It was always such a let down to drag myself away from the beauty of Christmas and welcome another month without the joy of the holidays. I never liked it. But, one thing I do love, is the simple act of writing the month. I love reaching the end of 12 and writing 1 again. This simple act reminds me everything has a beginning. I live my life week to week, but every once in a while, it is a marvelous thing to step back and see the large year, in circles, fold back to its beginning.

One way I embrace change each January, is to set a "theme" for the year. Now, do not confuse this with a resolution. My theme is an idea to keep in the back of my mind from month to month. Maybe I will write a simple list of things to look forward to in the year... but regardless, the theme provides focus and direction.

Last year was the "Year of Kate." Maybe this sounds a bit too broad. In January, of last year I was getting ancy about my age. The birthday I had approaching in June was not one I was looking forward to. So, I felt like it was time to make the year, MY year. I didn't know how, but I was going to do something to make 2007 stand out from the rest. My 2006 was a hard one, so, in the year of Kate, I was going to take as many risks as possible. This would be my year.

How did it turn out you might ask? Well, it was one of the most difficult and wonderful years of my life. I will discuss this further in another blog... but I would like to address this year's theme.

2008 is the Year of Joy.

Watching my life change and the lives of those I love change, I realized negativity (especially in myself) has become a terrible disease. It has just become easier to see life through Woody Allen glasses. It was easier to frown and expect sadness to come. Anyone who knows me, knows I am a happy person by nature. It was nothing I learned. Happiness has always come naturally, but it is possible to lose that if you look down long enough. So, I decided this year would be the year of joy.

The purpose of life..... (here it is!!!! the answer everyone wants to know...) is for men to have joy.

So, what is joy? In his book, 'Surprised By Joy' C. S. Lewis describes it as having one characteristic different from happiness and pleasure... "anyone who has experienced it, will want it again." The drive or ever-burning need for joy does not leave a person. Instead, it stays steady. And, Lewis also made the observation that "joy is almost never in our power and pleasure often is."

We can conclude then that joy is something constant, like a hunger and that it out of our power. Here is what I believe.

I believe joy is something long-lasting. But, that since it is our purpose in this life "to have joy," we are always looking for it. Like Lewis said, we hunger for it. Joy makes us stronger, while pleasure and/or happiness can be fleeting. Joy in a sense is peace and since we live in a erratic world with problems and we are flawed individuals, joy becomes our goal.

I have had moments of joy... one moment was at a concert at the Saltaire. The music was ethereal, the snow was peaceful, and I was with a loved one. Another moment was when I walked gardens by myself, the first day in June. I have also known joy in long conversations with family and those as close to me as my family. I had never been able to name the feeling I got after I wrote, or sang. These were the intangibles. But, I now know, these moments are joy. The more I have them, the more I want to make myself worthy for more of them.

And, this year will be the year of joy. I know better then to expect the year to go smoothly without any bumps, but I also know I only have power to recognize joy when it comes. These are the moments we live for and this is the year I will be aware and prepared.

Academics

2007-11-09T10:49:00.001-08:00

In honor of meeting Mr. Billy Collins (the former US poet Laureate and the first poet I fell in love with who wasn't dead) last night, and especially because I have dedicated my last three weeks to studying for the GRE; I felt like it was time to post a poem a bit lighter than the heavy academic world. I wrote this poem for my last professor. My last class before I graduated was Russian Lit and along with my last paper, I slipped this under the stack of papers. I welcome comments on this one because I have been told this poem might be offensive to a professor. I prefer to believe anyone with a sense of humor would appreciate it.

English Professor

He’s herded us through
fifteen weeks of communist ideology,
and six Russian novels
totaling 1,849 pages together.

We’ve compared each protagonist’s
mental state to Freud’s
theory of the Ego
and looked for phallic symbols
among Joseph Cambell’s archetypes.

He’s suggested we read
books like Lolita
and A Woman in Amber
sometime before we die.

We’ve analyzed the proletariat,
the theory of Animism,
and the Catholic Church
by the end of class,
and stayed ten minutes extra
as he explained the role
of excrement in a novel.

By the time we reach
Voinovich’s satire,
we’ve lost our
sense of humor.

But as he lectures
on a scene between
Gladishev and a horse,
he laughs and
wipes his mouth
like he’s just finished
a plate of ribs.

All Saints Day

2007-11-01T07:21:00.000-07:00

Several years ago, while my best friend Jess and I were driving to school (commuting an hour if you will) I came to a realization. It was the day after Halloween, commonly known as All Saints Day. The air was thick with fog and smoke and it was cold as winter slept in the grass and under the car's hood. I looked out the window and watched as neighborhood after neighborhood unfolded into thin and quiet. Pumpkins were either burned and puckered on porches, or their faces were smashed into orange shards in the road.

I realized, Halloween has always been an amazing night of pretending to be something you are not. It was about dressing up and eating the best of the best candy. It was about fear, and the power of curiosity, to seek out screams and continue feeling unsafe. And then, this one morning, I noticed how calm swept in over the valley. People were themselves again, sleeping and breathing evenly and knowing with 100% assurity, everything was as it should be. Ghosts and ghouls and terror had drained away. It was pure relief.

All Saints Day is traditionally a day to honor the dead and those who have made religious sacrifices. This is another reason I love it. The day after evil has slipped into our line of vision, we are tugged back into good and light.

As I drove to work this morning, I recognized peace still present in the tired faces of career-driven people commuting into the city. Another October of sugar and fangs and rapid pulses, over. The night went well. We survived another season of fear.

a poem by someone else

2007-10-09T11:36:00.000-07:00

I really wanted to share some awesome lyrics from one of my favorite songs right now.
The guy is named Jeremy Enigk and he has played in several bands...Including Sunny Day Real Estate and The Fire Theft. But, in 2006 he released a solo album called World Waits. Since I am an itunes junkie, I had to partake of the goodness.

The album is very good. Many would classify him as "emo" but I prefer to hear the optimism in his lyrics. Take a look...

Been Here Before

Been here before.
Though there's something in the air this time.
Now I wanna give away what I've taken back.
Run away with you toward the night.
A thousand names.
Though this something in me cannot smile,
don't wanna spend the day retracing steps.
Run away with you toward the light.

I can't stay long in the morning.
Another world went wrong - it's ok.
Now that you're gone,
hold me in your eyes or suddenly deny
I sympathize.

Those diamond days
A thousand strands of sunlight in her eyes.
Now I wanna give away what I've taken back.
Step away with you toward the night.

Hold me in your eyes or suddenly deny
I empathize.

Hurry up and sleep,
to the night you go

Two Poems

2007-10-05T15:58:00.000-07:00

These Two poems were written a few years ago. They are autumn scenes and needed to be shared. Especially because when I took them to my English professor, they were rejected because they were about Halloween and pumpkins and were too cliche. So, yeah. I still like them. Especially All Saints Day. this blog is where I publish what I want!!! HAHAHAHA!!!

One Hundred Shades

Dozens of pumpkins
are turned out,
their smooth faces forward.

Eyeing one hundred shades
of orange,
the boy’s mind moves
from apples, dirt
and plastic spiders.

Pulling his mother behind him
he weaves her through the crowd,
with his hand over hers,
and pulls her fingers across
a cool, rigid stem,
bent like a door handle.

She stoops
and lifts the pumpkin,
darker than the rest,
and balances it
on her hip like a round child.

With his hands,
the boy traces
the seams of the pumpkin,
piecing each segment
and stitching its shape,
naming one shade of a hundred.

All Saints Day

The pumpkin’s wide,
singed jaw
puckers under 5 a.m. frost,
its hollowed eye
fixed past the porch,
on a dog,
ticking in sleep.

The air—
smoked and spiced,
runs up the bone of the
dog’s back,
breaks apart his dream,
and passes through
the lowered gate
of the cemetery.

Several coughs
are heard along the plots.
The dead smother their mumblings
and stretch low,
grasp their bone toes,
and tuck themselves back
in the ground
to watch the
round Jonagolds
drop
into their yard.

a poem

2007-10-02T09:22:00.000-07:00

I just read my brother's blog on his latest experience with dreams and I remembered a poem.

I wrote this about three years ago after I had a VERY vivid dream in the middle of the night. I remember waking up and feeling so shocked it wasn't real. The dream literally stayed with me all day, till I wrote and wrote and wrote. After much revising, this was the result.

I write lots of poetry, but out of everything I have written, this is my favorite. enjoy.

Chemistry of Autumn

October 26, 4:37 am

Folded towards the thumb-tap
between my ribs,
his kiss is warm and out
of focus as night-dreams are.

October 26, 4:37 pm

Twelve hours wound
across my shoulders,
press closer to the ground.

My mouth turns down,
two stained beech leaves
lifted apart when I speak.

Light lessens,
I am changing color.

Letting Go... what a relief.

2007-09-27T08:16:00.000-07:00

I have always struggled with letting go of things that aren't good for me. Take for instance, sugar or candy. A co-worker I had a crush on, once asked me to give up sugar for a while with him and then whoever lost, took the other to dinner. I promptly gave it all up, and since we were allowed one day a week with sugar, I would go crazy, filling up on candy and sweets. Then, the stomach ache came. Now, I am not saying to abstain from sweets all the time, but too much of something can make you incredibly ill.

This blog is devoted to the art of letting go. I have written a bit about this in other blogs. I have addressed regret and all that good stuff... but I wish to take a closer look at the last let go. The last finger pulled from the holy grail. Do you remember Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade? Ok, let's go to the movies and see a good illustration of what I call, "the last finger let-go."

The Scene....The Temple of the crescent moon is now crumbling in classic Raider of the Lost Ark fashion, and the dumb, nazi blonde falls down a crevasse. Indiana catches her by the hand and pleads with her to stop trying to reach the Holy Grail which has fallen onto a ledge. Remember what happens? Yep. She bites the dust. While reaching, the glove comes off and she falls into that great abyss below the temple. How mysterious. But, then... the best part is that another tremor comes through and Indiana falls, holding only to his father's hand. Thus, the same scene begins again. But, no one can resist the wisdom of Sean Connery... Indiana listens to his father "Indiana, let it go." Let go of the one thing we have spent the entire movie seeking. Let go of what you want now. Let go. What happens? Yep, indiana swings his arm up and the two of them ride off into the sunset with Sala. Classic.

Sometimes books come too close to home. For those of you who have not read the Twilight series, THIS MAY GIVE SOMETHING AWAY!!! But, let's just say, I relate very much to the main character in Stephenie Meyer's Book, Eclipse.
Bella learns she has to let go of something she loves dearly and the book literally predicted the next month of my life. I mean look at the cover... doesn't it look like it? The last thread, waiting to be cut.

Now, what about the classic bible story? Do you remember Lots' wife? What happened to her? She had her chance to escape the evil of Sodom and Gomorrah, but in a fit of not letting go, she turned to look over her shoulder during their moment to flee and BANG she is a pillar of salt? (note: as a kid, I always pictured her as becoming a salt shaker here....) The important part here, is to look at what is in your heart. Lot's wife... (let's call her Regina because she should have a name other than "Lot's wife") was regretting her decision to leave and her heart was still back in the city.

Recently in my life, I had let go of something. But I was still looking over my shoulder. Someone who meant a lot to me, was gone. I wanted it too. But, I couldn't stop looking over my shoulder. I was gazing back at the city, wishing I hadn't left.

The worse part about this is that I don't want it to appear I don't believe in having hope and faith. But, there is something else involved.... humility. When something you want (or especially something you KNOW you shouldn't have) doesn't come, you can't lose yourself to nothing. You have the choice... to be happy or to mourn forever.

This time of year is a perfect time to talk about letting go. It is the time when trees let go of their leaves and prepare for winter. But the trees change to bright reds, yellows and oranges first, becoming extroverts before thinning up for the snow.

Honestly, letting go is hard. Whatever it is, it is painful and most of the time, unfair. (That is why I write....) However, nothing beats that moment when you have let go of something you wanted. You are not guaranteed any less pain, but the pressure is released. You know you have been blessed by (yet again) more experience, and you are no longer bound to a static situation. It is over. And you are yourself again.

Because I love Lists... #1

2007-09-23T14:42:00.000-07:00

The Things that Make Me Happy

-the smell of rotting leaves
-complete silence during a snow storm
-carmel-dipped apples
-violins
-the music of The Beatles
-the Salt Lake Temple
-the smell of plants and flowers heated by the sun in May mornings
-gutting a pumpkin in october
-the smell of burnt pumpkin November 1st
-the calm on Christmas Eve
-fresh daisies in a vase
-birds of any kind
-the wide expanse of the ocean, seeming it never ends.
-the dip your stomach feels when your plane leaves the ground and ascends into the sky
-when someone I love brushed the hair out of my eyes
-losing track of myself when I read a book
-poems that are in themselves, paintings
-the smell of trees in Yellowstone
-the music of Coldplay
-haunted houses
-cemetaries
-oak, maple, aspen and willow trees
-the first sip of Vegan Hot Chocolate from the Hatch Family Chocolate Co.
-the last bite of an ice cream cone
-cellos
-intense opera scenes with all charaters singing at once
-making pies on thanksgiving day
-ghost peeps
-Scary movies
-summer night drives
-laughing through tears
-reading to out loud to children or adults
-long coats of jackets
-children singing in cathedrals
-running saturday mornings with good music
-piano music
-listening to my own heart beat
-reading old journal entries
-watching Christmas lights in December
-being kissed slow
-the color red
-writing a poem
-singing opera
-watching slapstick humor
-the smell of squash in the oven
-warm socks from the dryer
-listening to someone else's heart beat
-when one college class studies something another class studies at the same time (but from a different perspective)
-thunder and lightning
-Ray Bradbury's writing
-my dad's grin when he is talking about books
-the smell of libraries
-my mom's voice
-pretty skirts
-falling asleep in May with the window open
-marshmallows
-my brother when he knows I need to laugh
-dark chocolate
-the painting "Fishermen at Sea" by Joseph Turner
-pastels to draw with
-the pain in my stomach when I laugh too hard
-touching the face of someone I love
-basil
-long talks that give perspective
-going to the Farmer's market
-walking through Hamilton Gardens in New Zealand
-the truth I have about Jesus Christ

ok, this is not everything that has ever made me happy but, I really felt like I needed to take a moment and write down what I could. I have learned so much lately about perspective and true joy. I am naturally a happy person but in my darkest times, these are the things that I've been blessed to experience that soothe anything that aches. Happiness is real and I feel it.

A Poem

2007-09-14T23:10:00.000-07:00

The Gloaming

Behind the hard lip of mountains,
half-black
the sky lies in bed.

The gloaming smolders,
a warm resistance watered
by fierce blue.

We are bled,
one side
into the other,
East—
dark and slow
West—
firm in day.

Below us birds murmur
at the daily argument
of letting go.

Vibration

2007-09-14T21:49:00.000-07:00

This week I decided to re-live some of my teenage angst and attend a rock concert. The lights were stabbingly beautiful and left me dazed. The room was filled with young kids, dressed in black tee shirts smeared with the band's name and tour dates. Everyone seemed indifferent enough to the opening bands and each other for that matter; minding their business like they were fellow passengers on a bus. However, once the band entered under flayed red lights, fan voices escalated and the room literally shook. The large room moved with the band, oscillating with the thickening beat.

After going to an event like this, my mind always turns to the wonders of vibration. No matter how many times I attend a basketball game, football game, or listen to a band perform with a sound system reaching its peak and vibrating in my chest, I always lose myself in it. When it comes down to the basic chemistry of the body, we ARE vibrations. We are made up of one specific vibration, resonating along out wrists, the hollow of our neck, center of the chest, and along our legs. Our bodies move in musical time.

For any musicians out there, I have heard songs in 3/4 time or waltz time appeal most to people because this is the closest rhythm to our heart beat. I can't speak for everyone, but I do believe I am attracted to songs in 3/4 time more often than any other time signature. But regardless, take a moment and think of what we relish in as human beings....

voices, music, communication, warnings, words, and the simple rhythm of the body.

all of these exist as nothing more than simple vibrations. Yet, they mean everything to our minds. Vibrations can carry heartbreak, joy, fear and even love in the quick pulses. I have been comforted, pained and enlightened by vibrations. The simple science of it is reduced to vibrations moving in out ears, clashing with the beat of our hearts and shaking our whole physical bodies. We are creatures of vibration.

If you ever want to understand a perfect illustration of this, read the book "Sirens of Titan" by Kurt Vonnegut. In the book, two main characters come across an alien creature with thin, diamond shaped bodies. They are called harmoniums and they live for vibrations. At one point, one of the main characters lets them crawl all over him and of course they huddle along his wrists, chest, neck and the inside of his thigh, feeding off of his vibration. What a wondeful image. Creatures living for our own music. We are walking music.

I love going to concerts and being with large groups of fueled people who illustrate sound in its most primary form. To me, my most valued sense is hearing. I would be utterly lost without it. To hear someone's voice, is to feel them with me again and I am grateful I grasp moments to join others in large groups, drowning in vibrations.

A little something about me... when I have a hard time sleeping at night, I roll on my stomach and wrap my arm around my neck with my fingers on the side of my throat. I fall asleep listening to my pulse. It is after all, the only music I carry with me always.

Something Wicked...

2007-09-09T19:28:00.000-07:00

"I know not all that may be coming, but be it what will, I'll go to it laughing."-Stubb in Moby Dick

I have been told I have a darker side. I love Autumn, Halloween, minor chords, zombies, ghost stories, cemetaries, scary movies, creepy music and anything slightly off. I don't know if it is a flaw, but for those who know me, it is quite a shock.

Honestly, I look like one of those girls who would like hot pink. My personality is loud and creative. I laugh all the time (sometimes attracting so much attention at a party, cops have been sent to quiet the ruckus). I am enthusisatic and am too nice, having a hard time saying no to people. But, I don't wear hot pink. I am most comfortable in sweaters, dark green or blue and even Spring pales to the color of Autumn. I am a hybrid of sorts. Recently I have tried to figure out why I am like this. I believe it is just me.

I remember when I was young, recognizing the only music I really liked at church sounded different from everything else. I remember it sounded sad even if it is wasn't. Once in elementary school, our music teacher came to class and had us listen to a song from a composer names Hector Berlioz. It was Halloween day and we listened to a song called, "Songe d'une Nuit du Sabbat." Our teacher pointed out the moment when the violins swirled and screamed and were plucked to sound like witches feet. The song was about a man who was in hell. I found it on a record a few years later and listened to it endlessly. I loved it. I loved how scary it sounded. It was different from everything else.

But, as much as I know this is me, I believe part of this came from my parents.

My mom grew up in Cleveland, has auburn hair, loves Autumn too, has a strange fascination with the Mafia and the Royal family. She reads murder mysteries, loves Motown, the Beatles, and the song, "Night on Bald Mountain." This was definately something different from the other mothers who seemed to hate Halloween.

My dad is a quiet man. He excels at math, science, and anything practical. He loves golden delicious apples in Autumn and the british comedy "Fawlty Towers." He also loves to read good fiction and is the only man I know who has read "2001: A Space Odssey." In fact he is a voracious reader and we have a lot in common...(including the fact we love to argue). But one thing my dad and I talk about endlessly is our favorite author, Ray Bradbury.

Ray Bradbury is best known for the High School required reading, "Farenheit 451." The novel was good, but I never understood why it was thought of as his best. Bradbury's writing is poetic. He is a lover of Autumn like my parents and his stories and novels are usually set in the season. Three of my favorites are "The Halloween Tree," "From the Dust Returned," and "Something Wicked This Way Comes." I grew up with both parents reading and discussing Bradbury's books at the dinner table.

Growing up with a mom obsessed with Halloween and Autumn, and a Dad obsessed with Bradbury, a regular movie at our house was not Snow White or Mary Poppins, but the movie version of "Something Wicked This Way Comes." For those of you unfamiliar with the novel, it is about a little town that gets a visit from "the Autumn People." The story is set in Green Town, Illinois and follows two young boys who are best friends. One of the boys is named Jim Nightshade. His father is a drunk and left him and his mother years ago. The other boy is named Will Halloway. His father is older and suffers from fear of age and regrets about his past. The Autumn People come to Green Town, running a strange carnival in October. People in the town start to disappear and soon, the boys get to the bottom of what the Autumn People are doing to the town. The novel is really about growing up and facing your fears and regrets. The movie version was a favorite at our house.*

This is really the first thing I remember loving as a child that seemed awfully dark (except for my obsession withTim Burton's Batman). The movie is such a lovely reminder of my childhood. Watching Johnathan Pryce as Mr. Dark in the library with Jason Robards as Charles Halloway is one of the most beautifully written scenes of dialogue of all time.

So, whether it is nature vs. nurture, I have only a few leads as to why I love the dark and minor. But,I do believe Mr. Ray Bradbury had some influence in the matter.

In July of this year, my brother and I received the opportunity to meet Mr. Bradbury at Comic-Con 2007 of all places! We listened to him speak about his career, and his love of the great authors. Then, he sweetly told the room how he was told over and over again through his career he wasn't a novelist, but a poet. I smiled from my chair, 15 rows back, and felt a connection with the man I'd read and listened to since I was little.

ps-As one can imagine, If I could and circumstances allowed, I would find someone close to me, walk through a park of falling leaves and read some Bradbury. Whoa. That sounds really cheesy. Maybe I could get away with wearing some hot pink.

*I used to watch it over and over again, except for a scene with spiders that may be the cause of my inrrational fear of spiders to this day.

The Spiritual Side

2007-09-09T13:58:00.000-07:00

I like to think everytime I write, readers can see my spiritual side. I am what is known as a believer. A Christian. A Woman who knows God loves her. I read God's word and sometimes, I even go so far as so to trust it.

Today at church, I learned the four signs of a spiritually-minded person. These are from an article in the Liahona Magazine in 2001 by a Elder Douglas L. Callister of the quorum of the seventy of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. He gave the following four characteristics of a spiritually-minded person:

1-"observant of the beauty in the world around him."
2-"aware of grand music, literature, and sublime art."
3-"scripture reading becomes more reflective."
4-"improves prayer."

As I sat in the congregation today, I grabbed a pen and wrote furiously of how I might continue to improve my realtionship with God. This realtionship can become strained and almost non-exsistant at times. I will let myself forget who I am and what I believe, in order to default to something I know takes less work.

This bit of truth this morning was enough to remind me, intelligence is of God. Poetry, music, literature, the physical earth, the physical body, scripture and the simple act of communication, is all of God.

Many years ago, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints published 13 Articles of Faith. It is our religion in a nutshell. It answers every question and today I was reminded of number 13:

"We believe in being honest, true, chaste, benevolent, virtuous, and in doing good to all men; indeed, we may say that we follow the admonition of Paul- We believe all things, we hope all things, we have endured many things, and hope to be able to endure all things. If there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy, we seek after these things."

God dwells in living. I almost forgot how vital it is for us to recognize that. Things get hard, even horrid. But, if you will have patience, I would like to share one more quote.

C.S. Lewis wrote a book about something I am terribly interested in: devils. He wrote a very popular book of letters between a devil and his demon-student. It is a very odd thing to read. You almost feel like you are reading personal letters which are none of your business, yet they are too close to home to put down.

Yesterday, I found my favorite quote, that (even being the cold-hearted wench I am) brings me to tears. It is a devil writing to his demon student about faith. (Note: the "Enemy" in this quote is God... remember these are devils writing).

"Our cause is never more in danger than when a human, no longer desiring, but still intending, to do our Enemy's will, looks round upon a universe from which every trace of Him seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys." (Lewis, 40).

need I say more?

Bibliography (because I majored in English):
-Callister, Elder Douglas L. The Liahona, 2001 Lds.org
-Smith, Joseph , The Articles of Faith, History of the Church, Vol 4. pp. 535-541
-Lewis, C. S., The Screwtape Letters pp 40.

alone

2007-08-29T18:40:00.000-07:00

I hate math. I always have and I know EXACTLY where it stemmed from.... a boy named Dusty. I am sure he is grown and his red-speckled mullet has been trimmed to something respectable. I bet he is an accountant or in financial planning. I'm sure he is married and has maybe one or two kids. But, for a brief period in first grade, he made my life a living hell.

Back in Mrs. Pickett's class, we were given daily math assignments and knowing first graders weren't any good with homework, we were required to finish before lunch. However, this meant concentration for people like me, who loved talking more than addition and subtraction problems. It was hard for me, and a young red-haired boy who hated my enthusiam and creative mind, loved teasing. We were told sternly if we didn't finish our problems, we would stay behind in the class during lunch and work while everyone else ate. Now, I don't think it ever happened to me, but daily I lived in fear of never finishing and having to stay behind. Where would I sit when I got done? Who would I play with at recess? Where would I go? Dusty's taunting brought me to tears on more than one occasion and I hated him with all of my might. He simply knew my weakness.

As I went through school, I continued to face the same fears of being alone at lunch or recess or even on the weekends. I was in love with people and if I was bad, being sent to my room as a kid was the WORST punishment. I couldn't stand being alone.

Now, I am 25 and feeling some of the same childish fears re-surface in areas of my life. I am a young single woman, graduated from college, working a desk job. In front of me, I have too many options to count. But, I feel like I am stuck in an elaborate project from elementary school. We are being faced with a very large task, that would be much easier to accomplish with a partner. I have been watching since I was 18 as many of my friends hooked arms with a partner and started working on their elaborate project in this life. I am content to work alone for the time, but some of my fears are rushing back.

Let me back up again...

At the end of May, something occurred to me; I was the happiest I had been in a long time. I owed my happiness to two things. Number 1- I was finally feeling useful. Dreading my 25th birthday, I decided to make it as memorable as possible. I had recently made a list of 25 things to do before I reached 25 and I was goals accomplishing my goals. It was like the joy of school but without grades. I was doing new things and embracing what I had always wanted to try. My list consisted of everything from making an apple pie from scratch to going sky-diving on my 25th birthday. Happily, I worked through June and learned so much.

Now, my second reason for being happy? Number 2- I was loved. I was not only making myself useful, but I was supported. The beginning of the year had been tough as I had seen another relationship fall through. But something I didn't expect had blossomed and I had connected with another person who shared himself with me. This realtionship was never easy, but I was learning more about myself than I ever had. And, when I woke up in the morning, I literally felt loved. The experience of loving and being loved was more like an awesome light. I literally was filled with light.

So, what do these things have to do with being alone? Well, I want to focus on one of my list items and how it reminded me of what matters in this life.

The day before my birthday, I had only two items left to be checked off. One was to go sky diving, which was all set up for the next day. But the other item was still in question. I had wanted to go to Lagoon, but no one I knew could go with me and my interest in going to a teen-filled amusement park on a friday night, was dissolving quickly. At my desk during the work day, my mind raced as I thought of what I could do to pull this other item off. Suddenly it occurred to me, I would like to visit the Red Butte Gardens in Salt Lake City. I had never been there and I wanted to enjoy this last item. The guy I was dating at the time wanted to throw out his plans and come with me, but I told him, I needed to do it alone.

So, directly after work in my dressy work clothes, I drove to the Gardens, paid my fee, and walked in, alone. At first being alone was not what I wanted. The Gardens were full of couples and people taking wedding photos in fields of flowers. But, somehow, peace filled me. I walked though the medicinal herb garden, scented garden, and down to the duck pond to watch the first friday in June fold away under the mountain. Looking back on my birthday, even compared to jumping out of a plane the next day, I was most grateful to spend some time by myself.

Now, the summer has swept in, full heat, and brought me to my knees. My favorite season has begun to curl the leaves of the trees and change the color of my skin. The year is folding away like my first Friday in June and I am facing different decisions. Many of which I will be asked to make alone. Where do I want to go from here? What is most important to me right now? The girl who was scared of eating her lunch alone is now trying to live her life. It is time to fill myself with that same light I felt in May. Few things in this life are constant. Change is what we came here to feel. But, I firmly believe people come into your life to teach love. People naturaly fill each other, but we choose to accept or reject what we offer each other. The day I went to the Gardens, I was not alone. God filled me with the light I felt from others when I was with them. It is love that fills and teaches no matter who you are with. And no matter how scary things get, "Perfect love caseth out all fear."

My Cousin Pip

2007-08-11T16:59:00.000-07:00

"Can we be the type of friends who live across the road from each other after we've grown up?"

Ten Years ago, I sat behind my best friend in Enlgish. I knew her from gym class. She had long brown hair, was loud, and laughed at all the same things I did. But most of all, she was always happy about something. I wanted in on it. We started to talk at the beginning of the year and I knew we were going to be perfect friends.

Ten years later, sitting in her backyard, I watched lights flit and fade over the Salt Lake. I looked at Jess. We were now 25 and we had been through hell and back... together. We survived High School, College, 5 months together in a foreign country, boyfriends, rejection, family pain and joy of all kinds. But looking at her, I realized, ten years was nothing. We had our whole lives ahead. We were 25 and our decsions were only half made.

Let me tell you about the two of us. Jess and I light up in the Fall. She feels like Frodo Baggins leaving on an adventure and I need to have those colors all around me. Her family loves illegal fireworks on the 4th and my family is obsessed with Halloween. We read "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoniex" out loud to each other every night for the first month we lived in New Zealand. We do all the voices. Jess loves hiking and I need her to encourage me to get past my fear of being outdoorsy. I love poetry and Jess has read it all.. or as much as I let her. She writes stories and I help her get past her fear of letting people read her work. We are both obsessed with movies and music. Her singing voice is broad and warm like the sun, while mine is clear like water. We sing together all the time. Jess has performed in plays for almost 12 years and I think I have seen all but two that she has been in. When Jess is sad, we go to the pet store to hold puppies. When I am sad, we go to the cemetary or the bird refuge to walk and talk. My biggest desire is to own a huge parrot and be poet lauret of the United States. Her biggest desire is to own lots of dogs on a huge farm and be in movies.... good movies.

It makes you wonder how friendship lasts doesn't it? We all meet people by the oddest circumstances. We connect and support each other and some leave as quickly as they come... others stay like songs we can't let go of. We play them over and over again, always eager to hear their words, and discover why we need them around.

In my experience, a kindred spirit (forgive the term coined from Anne of Green Gables) is one who can be as different from you as water to oil, but when that person looks at you, they know you. Not necessarily because of time spent together, but a connection exsists. Somewhere, one knows what the other needs and they feed their connection, surviving on forgiveness and charity and love.

We are flawed beings. We change and lose ourselves in ridiculous turn offs. Jess and I share everything. Pain, anger, and frustration included. When one of us is hurt, the other one steps up. When I lost my first love to another, I came back to her house to enjoy my first mourner's dinner. When Jess was adjusting to life after being gone for a year serving an LDS mission, I brought her Superman Returns and we laughed and swooned together. I see this all the time in my life. When one person falls roughly and loses thier balance, the other comes to cover what they can't.

I guess, what really hit me the other night was how lucky I was. To know her and have her when things have been tough. I only have a handful of people I trust as much as family and she heads that tiny group. One day, she and I will be past this point of life. Past the stage my friend Fiona lovingly refers to as stuck "in the meantime" of life. We may have extra degrees, poems, stories, and movies as a part of our 20's and 30's. We may have families and careers. We may be letting life wash over us, numb and heavy. But I know she will always know me. AndI will know her. And maybe when we are grown-ups, we will be living on the same street, across the road from each other.

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

2007-07-31T20:04:00.000-07:00

Several years ago, I remember watching an ad on TV showing an energetic parent dancing down the aisles of Office Depot to the Christmas tune, "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year." Two sulking kids, around 10 years old or so, followed in their father's wake, heads low and faces drawn into deep frowns. I used to feel this way. It usually happened around the end of July. The beginning of August was the unofficial month to mark every office and school supply 20-30% off. Suddenly, swimsuits, shorts, and beach bags were sent to the back clearence racks and sweaters, jeans, and turtle necks were in the forefront of every display. Buying new school clothes was an amazing deception. One could buy an entire wardrobe of woolen, long-sleeved items in the midst of an air-conditioned store, believeing they could be worn the next day while the highs were still in the 90's.

But, to be honest to myself, I was one of those kids that dreaded the beginning of school. Not because I was opposed to new clothes, shoes or pencils... but I hated change. I hated going to a new classroom with different kids and decorated walls and I felt homesick. The beginning of Junior High was the most appalling change I ever endured in my education. Short, chubby, and terrified, I was shoved up and down the hallway, knowing how powerless I really had become upon turning 12.

College was probably the easiest and most welcomed change. It was like High School except, one could choose to go to class or not and no parent was required to give written consent. The first day I sluffed Beginning Badmitton to study for my history test, I could barely sit still. I felt like I had broken some unforgivable rule. When I dropped the class out of convience, no one argued with me. I was paying for school and I owned my decisions.

Going to college became so comfortable, I took my time. In fact, not only did I not want to leave, but the music department seemed to do whatever they could to prevent me from graduating. I am happy to say I am a college graduate, English major, music minor and all. But, I can't say I feel too fulfilled. Why is that when I walk into a Target or Smith's Market Place and see walls of school supplies on sale, a lump catches in my throat and I suddenly feel so sad? Many would say I am a masochist. I would have to disagree. I loved school. I loved my major. It was like one big book club. We all read the same books and shared everything with each other. The only formal part was putting it all in writing, which was something I rather liked since I needed the practice. However, no matter what I say here, nothing captures how I felt except something my professor said to my class.

By the end of my education, I was left with one class to take the fall of 2005. One literature class... Russian literature to be exact. It turned out to be one of my favorites. One day, my professor reminded those of us who were graduating that semester to get our proper papers in on time. Then he sighed and said "those of you who are graduating will have a hard time. You will have an identity crisis and begin to doubt who you really are." He smiled afterwards as we laughed at him. Something on his lips told me he was telling the truth. I swallowed hard. I couldn't think about that. I had spent so much time trying to organize myself and I was already graduating about 2 years after I should of. I needed to focus forward. But, I can't begin to tell you how true his words were. It all comes back to fear of change.

I had spent most of my life being a student. I never took a break. I knew if I stopped school I wouldn't go back. So, I kept going. It wasn't hard when I majored in what I loved most. Reading, writing, and singing everyday was far from a punishment. I kept going and then, one day it ended. I kept my part time job after my lofty plans of grad school fell through. Then I tried to take another job with full time benefits and it was horrible. I wasn't happy. So, I took a different full time job that was easy and relaxed and that is where I have been eversince. Floating. Comfy in my cubicle, looking all around me, but never straight ahead. I didn't want to see.

Now the sweaters are emerging again and I am feeling a need to buy pencils and paper. It is time for the rest of the world to return to school. I am feeling like it is time to make a change. Time to take a journey. September was also the time Bilbo and Frodo left on their journey. in Tolkien's "The Fellowhip of the Ring." Frodo doesn't want to leave. He knows he needs to leave the Shire, but he is scared. I want to go back to school, grad school. I don't want to return to school because I am homesick. It is that I figured out what will make me happy and now, it is up to me to make that change.

I am scared. I hate rejection and I hate not knowing anything for sure. I really hate change... feeling like that chubby 7th grader again, being pushed around the halls by people who know what they are doing. I know all too well the power fear has to paralize and leave us with the worst punishment of all... regret.

Ray Bradbury wrote a book called "Something Wicked This Way Comes." It is all about the Autumn People who are drawn to those who live in misery. They feed off of the regret and pain of others. The end of the book is all about lifting yourself from the chains of pain and regret. Courage comes from action. "The witness only comes after the trial of your faith."

So, now at work, in my comfy cubicle... I quiz myself with words from the GRE like "abscond" and "alacrity." I revise poems and read novels and write stuff like this to remind myself no one ever got anywhere who stayed in their living room, watching out the window.

a poem in the meantime

2007-07-21T22:23:00.000-07:00

This is me. I am trying to post this as my profile picture and I hate computer language!!!!! But, oh well. Here is a poem to enjoy in the meantime.

Girl at the Sea Line

“It seems only yesterday I used to believe
there was nothing under my skin but light.
If you cut me, I would shine.”- Billy Collins

Her blood reels,
while each pore’s
tiny mouth
swallows salt.

Waves press towards the shore,
loosening her balance.
She falls onto her knees
and slices her calf against a rock.

The blood—
dark and cherry,
curls through her reflection.

Her white hand,
palm down
dips deep
under the surface,
and draws back
spilling with light.

Fiction

2007-07-21T17:44:00.000-07:00

Last night, after I had been branded with the Dark Mark and bought myself an honest to goodness wand and waited for over two hours to be sorted by the local sorting hat, I found myself standing in one more line. This line was long and thick with people in pj's spanning the complete width and length of the Walmart in Layton Utah. It was probably around 1:30am when I drove home with my very own copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

Now, be assured... this blog has nothing to do with the Harry Potter book or its story (especially since I am a slow reader and KNOW someone will spoil the ending of the 7th book for me sooner or later). What I wanted to address, was the passion we have for fictional characters. What is it that makes us stay till 3 am in a one stop shopping center waiting for somone to hand over our own copy of the last installment of a story? Why can't we wait till the next morning? Why did I wait on my feet and end up paying a woman for one of her extra books, rather than wait six hours and pick up a book for myself the next morning? Why do I NEEED to get home and see what Harry is going through?

I guess we care about these characters. We care about what they choose for themselves. We care about what they teach us and we want to know about their lives. In fact, most people have felt this for more than books. Did you ever wonder what would happen to Frodo and that blasted ring? Or, what would Mary Jane say when Peter Parker told her his BIG secret? In fact, we follow this fascination all the way through TV. We worry about Jack Bauer and we scream at the TV when John Locke screws up AGAIN and prevents people from escaping that ridiculous island!!!

My only answer to this is that bottom line: Fictional characters feel real. That is what makes good writing. But these stories are not just vain attempts for us to live the lives we lack, they are bits and pieces of each of us. Something tells me that J.K. Rowling has a lot of love for her Harry Potter and has probably put a lot of herself in him and Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley etc. The first rule to writing is" write what you know." And we are attracted to what we know. I love Harry Potter because his reactions to even the smallest adolescent moments have reminded me of my own life. It is those moments when I put the book down on my lap and laugh out loud because I can say, "Whoa, that sounds familiar!!" I suddenly don't feel so alone. We are really on our own when it comes to this life. Things get hard, but writers are a special breed. They are the wide-eyed ones. They notice and absorb what we all feel and jot it down somwhere rather than disregard it. They are the people with tiny books and notes stuffed in pockets filled with tiny phrases birthing ideas. The writers spin it all out using half imagination and half experience and hope someone can relate.

So, what is it that makes reading and charaters in movies and tv so attractive? Well, I believe a big part of it is that we know in our hearts it isn't real. In life, we have to deal with reality. With broken conversations and explanations. We are flawed... but the ficitonal character can have a perfect conversation with a significant other, because the writer has crafted and molded it for months. Oh, the joy!! What would it be like to tell someone how you feel and not drive home later that night, cringing to yourself when you remember what you have said?!

All in all, the fictional character is each of us, but without strings attached. We trust the writer. Even when everything goes insane, we KNOW the writer will bring us back to the doorway we started from. We might not even get closure, but we will be taken to our destination and we will arrive in one piece.

So, this blog is really a salute to ficiton. I salute the writers who create worlds and characters that resemble each of us, yet still have the power to remind us, it is fiction. It isn't real. No one died in the making of this movie or the writing of this book. But, what power! That still, we dress and talk and laugh like the characters we love so much. That when someone dies in a book or a movie, we cry real tears and experience the same emotions we would if that person was truly gone. How lovely to flip back to page one or reset the DVD... and start all over again.

The Bird Refuge

2007-07-14T16:56:00.000-07:00

Being a writer, it only seemed natural to blog. I keep a regular journal but never for the public to read. This will be a new experience, but if it gets me to consistently write without fail, so be it. I could only think of one name for this blog. It had to be named after the place I have found my most humble peace. So, for this first entry, let me introduce you to my refuge.

I must have been no more than fifteen the first time I set eyes on the refuge. My friend and I drove as west as possible, leaving our huddled city at the base of the mountains. Seated in an old blue ponitac with a digital speedometer large enough for the elderly, I watched the landscape dissolve into nothing but flat lake and flat farms. We slowed to 30 mph as the road thinned out to dirt. It made me think of our family trips to Yellowstone and the unfinished roads that led us to our little white trailer overlooking Henry’s lake.

We drove under large power towers humming low over our heads. The road twisted past long stretches of cattails and beautiful birds dipping and soaring over the patches of marshes. Strong on the air was the smell of brine shrimp, horses, and salt.. We passed a few park signs describing the common breeds of birds found at the refuge. But, I loved the large white sign claiming this land to be a “Waterfowl Rest Area.” At the end of the road, a small hill slid above and into view. I didn’t know then the hill was known as Goose Egg Island and was an overlook point for bird watchers and others who needed perspective.

Ten years later, I held my breath and listened to what I first heard at the refuge… simple peace. Stillness. The freeway was a million miles away, lining the valley with busy people. My home was swallowed up in the static that surrounded life as a single working woman.
It was here I’d spent hours with my best friend and her dad photographing this landscape in the dead of winter, watching eagles cluster in the tops of crawling trees. It was here I stood in rain, taking notes for my first creative writing class in High School. It was here I watched the sun fall low and overturn itself in the dead lake, the shore lined in salted carp. It was here I fell in love first and lost my first love.
This tiny place, lined with wide-faced trees, birds changing quick pace mid-air and animals crawling through the marshes, gave itself to peace. To a higher power above the deadlines of rushed life. No man-made sound existed, but my own breath moving the space I filled. I could turn 360 degrees completely and see the valley from every angle, its colors melted. It was mine. This refuge is my slow poem read over and over. I could feel life. It was alive as I was alive.
Everyone needs a place to fall and feel alive. I decided to name this spot on the internet after my refuge. I will post what I write and hopefully, someone may find some peace and perspective here as I have in my bird refuge.