A rant about... everything.

...And here we are. Kirkwood.

There are no mice skittering across the floors.

No snakes dropping from the ceilings.

No drafts coming in the windows at night.

No chipmunks escaping the bathroom cabinets.

No mold growing in the bathroom.

No sticky glue traps ending up in beds (with mice still in them).

Sadly, all of these things have happened in the old house.

Not just once, but repeatedly.

I feel safe, comfortable, and warm in the new house. I feel like it's actually home, instead of just some shitty place that is being temporarily rented. I finally feel like I've... landed.

I even have a dresser. I haven't had one of those since I left Florida. Seriously. I sold my dresser to my produce manager when I still worked for Publix. I couldn't afford to move it.

Moving was a process. It's hard, not having reliable men in my life. Or Mom's life. We had two awesome co-workers do the heavy lifting. They busted their asses, and we are forever indebted to them.

Did my uncle show up?

No.

Did my "boyfriend" show up?

No.

When my aunt and uncle finally DID show up, it was the day after, to bring dinner, and bitch about how many stuffed animals they've seen me move over the past few years.

My co-workers had something to say about that, too.

Since this is kind of a sore subject for me (not the stuffed animals, but the thought process that goes along with them), I feel the need to explain a little bit.

Firstly, I am incredibly sentimental. Mom and I both are. She has socks that were my grandmother's. Her mixer. Her favorite mixing bowl. Dishtowels. I have the only things ever given to me by my grandparents: stuffed animals. I was a very small child when they passed away, and thus, I received a lot of toys and stuffed animals. The toys have long since been given away, or have broken, but I s

till know which grandparent gave me which stuffed animal, and for which occasion. I will probably never part with them. I didn't know my grandparents for very long, but I do know that they adored me. I've heard stories about them. I feel like I know them. And I want to continue to feel that way about them. The stuffed animals keep me connected.

Secondly, and this is the thought process part, I was an engaged woman once. I made a home with a man. A home that was ready to start a life, and a family, and all of the things that go with it. That home had to be quickly packed away and loaded onto a truck to move to Missouri. It was then unloaded into a bedroom. Yes, one single bedroom. Thus, the majority went to storage, whether in a basement, or a storage unit, or my aunt's house. There was never an opportunity to sort through things, get rid of things I didn't need or want or use. From that little basement storage locker, it went to the basement at the shitty house we just moved from. It got to a point where I was too terrified to go into the garage to sort through things. Now, I did finally sort it. Mom and I went through it together. I donated more stuff than you would believe. And yes, I do still have a lot of stuff. But I'm also holding onto the things that will one day make a home again. I'm holding onto my nice dishes, and pots and pans, and wine glasses, and wall art, and books. Books that I had in college, or in high school, or as a kid, but books that I loved, that have been read hundreds of times, and that mean something to me.

So, yes, I have a lot of stuff.

I also have a lot of stuffed animals.

And dammit, they are mine, and Mom doesn't mind storing them in her basement.

Plus, they aren't hard to move.

I don't know why it works me up that everyone bitches about them. Maybe I feel the need to defend myself, at the age of 24, for having a collection of stuffed bears.

I'm not really sure.

In any case, I will move my own damned stuff next time if it's an issue.

...anyway.

I now have real-person internet instead of stuck-in-the-styx internet, so feel free to send me things to download. I will be happy to download just about anything.

As the Barenaked Ladies said... "One Week."

The notice is in. Old Navy is no longer my main source of income.

I may stick around for extra cash on the weekends, but the beauty of this whole situation is that I don't HAVE to stick around. I can completely turn my back on Old Navy and be ok. More than ok.

I start at my new office on the 26th of September. My last day at Old Navy is the 22nd. This coming weekend will be my last as a retail employee. I can dedicate myself to my students, to my passions. I can visit long lost family and friends in other states, without having to worry about who will be there to do markdowns, or put up signs, or handle spreadsheets.

Someone else will have to learn how to work the lights, and the AC unit, and the LOD sheets, and the Top 30 report. Dan is probably going to flounder for a bit, trying to find someone to do the work that I do for such little money. Honestly... my position is not worth it. At all. I feel sorry for whoever takes it, I really do. I hope they get promoted quickly, and that they don't have to waste their time in that position for 5 years. I hope Dan goes to bat for them the way he didn't go to bat for me.

I'm embarking on a journey, friends, where I can truly be an adult, and I will not be embarassed to talk about my job. You can join me on it, right here.

The Semester Begins...

It's strange to think, for so many years I kept track of time in "semesters." Spring, summer, fall. Winter was just where Christmas break fell between Fall and Spring semesters. I kept time in school years. Now... it feels odd to watch my friends, my family, my co workers and my students return to the classroom. And me? I'm just working. No classes. No parking stickers. No syllabi to read. In many ways, I enjoy it, but in many ways... I miss it. I miss being a student. I was so good at it, and it brought me certain types of nerdy joy... not to mention social time.

To continute my summer of growing up and becoming a real adult... I applied for a job. A real, big kid job that is NOT in retail, does NOT force me to work weekends, and requires business clothing.

And I think I nailed the interview. I'm crossing every single one of my crossable limbs, because Old Navy is not cutting it any more. I'm a college grad, I'm 24. I don't WANT to run around after 17 year olds that don't care anymore. I don't WANT to work on Thanksgiving. I want to be able to visit my family on holidays. I want to be able to move out, on a salary that is actually fair for the amount of work that I do.

Basically, I want to start living like a grown up, because I deserve it.

Grad school is still there. It's not going anywhere. I will still go. Just... not right now.

I'm having too much fun teaching color guard. I will have an amazing time creating a show for winter guard. I don't want to give that up just yet.

Most of you have probably heard me complain about Matt at some point or another. But... we've talked. I've decided that I don't want to be with anyone else right now. Even as other guys tell me they are interested... I can only think "...but you're not Matt. You're not the one I actually want." I can't force myself to feel for anyone else what I feel for him. And, even if our relationship is not the greatest thing in the world, even if I get frustrated sometimes, and he gets distant sometimes... I'm happier being with him than I am being without him, and I'm willing to stick it out and see where it goes. Yes, it sucks that he is in Rolla for school... and I'm... well... here. But I can't change that. I can only go visit.

And so, readers, this is life now. Working. Relationships. I'm ACTUALLY an adult. It's a bit terrifying, so hold off on it as long as you can, ok?

Growing Pains

And so, after weeks of contemplation, nightmares, angry emails, and one long lunch date with a therapist (who is a friend of Mom's, I didn't actually seek therapy for this)... the decision has been made.

I stay.

Here. In St. Louis.

Things are going well at work. Things are going well at home. I'm settled, and happy. I'm ready to take on the next phase of my life... and it's going to happen right here, in the Gateway City.

I couldn't leave, and feel comfortable. I don't feel as though my time is "up" here. Plus, the money didn't come through, and that's a huge factor for me. I HATE feeling as though I'm not financially secure.

I'm excited to stay. A little sad, as well, because I feel as though I've let some people down... I can hear my Dad's response now. He's going to compare this to the wedding. And the full-ride scholarship. He's going to say that I bail on everything, because I'm lazy, or afraid, or whatever adjective he wants to use. If he doesn't realize by now that I'm neither of those things, it's his loss... right?

I have lazy tendencies, and I'm cautious, but I'm also hard-working and brave in most aspects of my life. Fuck anyone who thinks differently.

I am not giving up on grad school altogether... I'm just stopping to breathe for a second. Or a year. Whatever it takes. Why rush things? I tried to rush everything in my life, before I even turned 21. Why keep doing it at 24?

I also kind of have something-- or someone-- to stick around for. I haven't been in this position for awhile... but I'm enjoying it. I haven't truly dated anyone since... I don't even want to think about it. I've been on dates, yes, definitely. Most of them ended badly, or strangely, and nothing really came out of them. Most of the time, the guy seemed interested, but wouldn't continue to put forth the effort to actually make me his girlfriend. This one, though... this one is different. There is definite effort involved.

My summer is going to be amazing, because I'm going to make it so. I'm spending as much time with friends as possible. I'm taking road trips to visit those that live a little out of the way (here's looking at you two, Meg and Sab!). I'm enjoying a budding romance. I'm watching good friends get married, and start their lives. I'm revisiting old hobbies and talents. I'm shooting more than ever. I'm learning. I'm teaching. I guess that's growing up, right?

This will be the summer of romance, true friendships, and new beginnings. And I don't even have to leave the state.

Fears, rational and irrational.

Graduate. Degree-holding citizen. These words actually APPLY to me now. Yes, really. I didn't think the day would ever come either. It's been an incredibly long journey, one that I'm happy to have completed. I'm also really glad that I didn't stress myself out and try to do it in 4 years. As a good friend of mine says... graduating from college after 4 years is like leaving the party at 10 pm. And well, it's kind of true. If I'd done it in 4, I never would have met the awesome people I have over the past year or so (I'm lookin' at you, ladies, Meg and Kat!). Things have honestly never been better for me, and I'm ready to move on to the next step.

But I'm afraid.

I get bouts of fear, usually at night, when lying in bed, thinkin' about stuff. Or, when I'm driving around in the Central West End, windows open, the weather perfect. Or, when I'm wandering around Plowsharing Crafts, searching for finger puppets made of free trade materials.

Will I find people like you in Tallahassee? Will I find places like these? Will I adjust accordingly, the way I adjusted so well to St. Louis?

Having my father here for 3 days opened my eyes a little bit. I had to play tour guide for someone from my home town. Where did I take him?

Delmar. Central West End. Oishi. My favorite places to get a good drink. My favorite places to hear live music. My favorite places to people watch. My favorite places to get great food.

I'm scared to leave these places, scared to leave these people. I hit my stride here... am I really ready to leave?

Hell Hath No Fury...

Although I'm generally trying to avoid making this a spot for my every day complaints and bitch sessions, this one needs to be written out.

Gentlemen, please, take this as a guide.

Women are simple creatures, really. Tell me I'm right, tell me I'm pretty, and give me a hug. Then, I will stroke your ego as much as you want. I promise.

Do NOT use me to stroke your ego without giving me anything in return. I'm not that girl. If you flirt, I will flirt back, but I WILL expect that at some point this will go somewhere.

When it doesn't, I will be upset. I will be pissed. And I will probably slap you. You've been warned.

What Nerds Do Over Spring Break

We all know I'm not your typical spring break girl. I'm not a big drinker, I go to bed early, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to be 84 this year.

What does a girl like me do over Spring Break?

Crochet.

Mmmhmm. I said it. Crochet. Look, there's proof!

He's going up for sale in my Etsy shop whenever I get around to taking real photos of him.

I didn't do much else, really. I worked.

I'm beginning to think I'm not cut out for retail. It frustrates me more and more every day. It makes me realize that I do want higher education. I don't want to be my boss in 5 years: married, a store manager, never able to leave town on a holiday. Ew.

That's it folks. We return to regularly scheduled programming next week: Class, work, class. Rinse, repeat, for another 5 weeks. Graduation is quickly approaching, and I could not be more excited.

Self Actualizations

I'm learning some... stuff... this week.

As you may know, my dating life is a blooper reel.

I'm currently stringing along men I'm not interested in, because they keep popping up, even when I ignore them. I have one woman who wants to "hook up" and then see what happens. And then I've got one who is confusing the hell out of me with the witty banter and playfulness.

Anyway. I digress.

What I'm learning, by observing the dating rituals of those around me, is that I'm a settler. I give in to other people. I give them what they want to hear, because I'm not honest enough to just say "no," for fear it hurts their feelings. If I'm tired and want to go home, I can't just say so without feeling guilty. If I don't want to date you, I can't just say so without feeling guilty. It doesn't matter WHAT it is, everything I ever say in opposition gives me a guilt trip.

So, what does this mean?

Honestly, I don't know. I wish I knew what to do with it. I've tried meditating for some clarity, and sadly, I just keep falling asleep because I've been so exhausted lately.

I'm trying to tap into my inner sex goddess, as awkward as that may be for some of you to learn. She and I used to have a great relationship, but over time we've become fair weather friends. She gained a couple of pounds and some laugh lines and now she's in hiding. I'm trying to coax her out with lots of fanfiction (if you don't get this, please don't worry, you're probably better off). I'm trying to re-establish our bonds, because we had a great time together. I don't know, maybe she needs a break from me.

I've also learned that distance not only makes the heart grow fonder, but truly tests the threads of relationships. I'm watching it in the relationships of my friends, and I'm watching it in my own relationships. How many people are excited for my return to Florida? Let me just sum it up by saying "a lot." How many of those people have come here to see me? Have emailed me? Have seen me when I've visited Florida? The response is a sad but true "a few."

Now, please, don't take this harshly. I understand the complications of work, money, school, partners, and children. I do. But, I am reachable by phone, email, text, chat platforms, skype... you name it, you can reach me on it.

I'm terrified that this will happen again when I go to Tallahassee. It's far enough away from both of my homes that I may be truly isolated. I may be completely and utterly alone for a few months until I find some poor soul to eat lunch with me.

Maybe my paranoia and nerves are getting the best of me at this point. I'm really, truly, terrified to do this by myself.

Little Announcements

Forgive me, because this is going to be completely self-serving:

I GOT INTO FSU!!!

Okay. Done. I promise. No more exclamation points.

I was terrified that NO ONE would take me, that I would be stuck at Old Navy for another year, waiting for my life to start.

Today, my life started. Today, I got into graduate school. Today, I officially became a "PhD Seeking" student, as so named by Florida State University.

I have until March 31st to give a response, so I'm going to wait about two more weeks to see if anyone else wants me as well.

Where ever I end up, I will be proud of myself. And, where ever I end up... I will be terrified. I will be broke. I will be alone. But, I will be making something of myself, and THAT I'm okay with.

Jasper Johns Did What Now?

Jasper Johns was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom.

To the Art History nerd inside of me, this sounds like the beginning of a bad joke, along the lines of "a rabbi walks into a bar..."

It's no joke, friends. The American artist who has been challenging accepted notions of American identity since the early 50s was awarded the highest civilian honor by Barack Obama himself. The last studio artist to get this was I think Willem de Kooning. Maybe Georgia O'Keefe? I know they both received it, at some point, but I don't recall if it was post-humously or not, as it was with Alexander Calder.

Anyway, I guess what I'm trying to say is... What the fuck? Honestly. I love Johns, please don't misunderstand me. I have a lot of respect for the work of Johns. But, it's no secret that the man has made a mockery of American symbolism. He has taken classic American icons, like the flag, the map, the colors... and has given them a Warholian approach. He has turned them into commodities.

I guess next... it will be Kerouac and Ginsberg winning Medals of Freedom.

Go, Jasper Johns. I salute you, but in the only way appropriate: a totally un-American one.

Adventures in Dating

My dating experience thus far has been just that: an experience. I've tried a lot of different things, a lot of different types. I've tried traditional and a-typical dating, and everything in between.

I think it's about time I started to record these things. Because, honestly, these stories are just too crazy to exist only in my memories.

Like the guy that wanted me to toss his salad. The one that wanted to feed me BBQ chicken while I wore a diaper. The guy that cried far more than I did at chick flicks. How about the one that wanted to talk about laundry detergent, and nothing else?

These things are real, people. And they happen to me. Of course, me. Because I attract the weirdest types.

A truly funny lady once called it my "harem," and sadly, the moniker is not stretching the truth by much.

What do we think? How interesting do we find the plight of a serial dater?

The Art Kid in Me Just Peed Herself in Excitement...

Okay, so Google and I are buddies. No, seriously. We're BFF's. Google handles my email, my calendar, my text messages, my phone calls, my money, my blogs, my pictures, my documents, my GPS. If Google ever goes under, I'm pretty much screwed. I believe in Google so much, though, that I'm willing to take the chance.

That being said, most of you know that I'm an art history nerd, an artist, and a Google freak.

This latest undertaking by Google just blew my mind: http://www.googleartproject.com/

Basically, Google has adapted their technology from Maps, and applied it to art museums. No kidding. I toured the MoMA yesterday. You can search galleries, zoom in on works, get information about the work, the artist, the date, etc. The digitization is high quality. Short of actually being in the museum, this is the BEST possible way to view art.

I'm probably never going to get to most of the museums listed. It's just fact. Money is tight, and art historians, sadly, don't make much of it. This is a great substitute.

So, excuse me for a few days while I take a whirlwind world tour of the masterpieces =)

Ragin' Palin Street Art

Ha. Haha. Hahahaha. I can't tell you how much I hate this woman. I've seen so much parody art over the past few weeks, it just tickles me pink.

Trustworthiness...ish.

I don't know why I trust some people. I would like to believe that they are "friends." Friends are... hard for me. I don't make many. I'm reserved, and I'm busy. I don't slow down for very many people, and when I do, they'd better be worth it.

I've learned that most people are bipolar in how much they like me. Some days, we laugh. We have fun. We get along swimmingly. Then, on other days, like this one, they completely flip out when I stand up for myself and say "no."

I'm easily bullied and pushed around. I guilt myself into saying "yes" to anything and everything. I'm too nice to say "no," to say when enough is enough, and to have a spine. Most people take advantage of that. I can name on just a few fingers the people that have NOT done that to me in my life.

Sadly, most of them are recent additions to my friend pool. Don't misunderstand, the noobs are great. They are some of the best. But, it shows that I've been, thus far, sadly unable to tell the difference between a real friend and an asshole.

I used to believe that saying "yes" all the time would get me somewhere. It would make me more friends, it would make me more likable, it would get me promoted. Instead, all it has done is make me tired. I tend to overbook myself, and then turn into a giant flake when push comes to shove. I make plans and say "yes," and then I cancel so I can crash on my couch and be a potato. Then, commence with profuse apologizing. It's not the best way to make or keep good relationships alive, but it's the only way I've learned to do it so far. Now, more often than not, I just feel guilty. And tired. Exhaustively guilty.

This journey to self discovery has been difficult, but it means that I'm going to need to straighten out my back bone, and use it every once in awhile. Welcome to real life, Kate. Time to be a big girl.

A New Year, A New Beginning... Of Sorts

Let the anxiety attacks begin. Seriously.

All of my grad school apps are submitted, and now all I can do is wait.

But, instead of freaking out, I'm focusing my energy on a few things:

1) This damn t-shirt rug I never finished. I need to work out the kinks so I can sell the damn things.

2) Tarot cards. I have a few sketches, and some shots lined up, but nothing is solid yet.

3) The gym. Yes, this sounds like a horrible resolution, but I actually enjoy exercise. I like the elliptical. I like the sauna. If it wasn't so cold out, I would go running. I need to find more things to do inside, that don't involve re-runs of Invader Zim and YouTube.

4) Writing consistently. Daily, even. I did a lot of personal journaling for a long time, hand written. It was the most therapeutic thing I've done for myself, and I need to continue it.

More than that, I need to start doing some creative writing, to get the juices flowing. I'm tired of reading books where some angsty girl has a shitty life until some man with no personality shows up to save her, and their personalities combine to make one big mass of "boring!" I'm tired of the most interesting thing about these boys being the fact that they are vampires, werewolves, immortals, fallen angels, incubi, or some other totally-hot-but-unrealistic supernatural being. Yes, I get it, vampires are sexy. Werewolves bring out that animalistic side of you. But there has to be something other than fangs that turns you on, right? How about humor, sarcasm, honesty, smarts, optimism? These are qualities we fall for in real life. I'm all about young adult literature, because I thinks it's a huge turning point in a reader's life. You don't want boring academic stuff yet, but you don't want The Babysitter's Club, either. You don't want teens with shoe fetishes, and you don't want stupid things about shopping and the Jersey Shore. The people I know that read Young Adult Fiction are incredibly intelligent, worldly, creative, and ever-changing. They are versatile, and curious. Shouldn't their literature be, too? Shouldn't we respect the minds of the 20-somethings like myself? Yes, I can handle reading literary criticism and the like. Sometimes, I even enjoy it. But, more often than not, reading for me is an escape. It's getting lost in world that may be unlike mine, but is still relatable. I want to find something in my literature that reflects myself, my peers, my struggles. My struggles to BE a 20-something. My struggles to be independent, but scared. My struggles to have an adult relationship with my parents, and most of all, with myself. My struggle to find myself, trust myself, and be self-reliant. My struggles to have standards in dating, and in friendships. To say no, when I have to, but may not want to. My struggles to learn about life-after-undergrad. Surely, someone else out there wants to read these things? With a little lust, a little sex, a little mystery, and a little supernatural, otherworldly element?

I don't know, friends, maybe I'm asking for too much of writers. But, literature like this is the reason I respect Charlaine Harris far more than I respect Stephanie Meyer. They both wrote series about vampires, and werewolves, and one girl caught in the middle. But Sookie Stackhouse is a strong southern woman with a shotgun and a woman who won't stop fighting for anything she wants or believes in. Bella Swan, however, is free to let her being be overrun by a vamp and a wolf. I don't know. Maybe I just want to be Sookie far more than I want to be Bella. Her life seems more fun, and less... angsty.

Other than this rant, there is nothing much to report. Strange things are happening in the world. God is working in mysterious ways these days, especially in my world. The Republicans have a majority, which frightens me, but not the way it used to. Don't Ask, Don't Tell was lifted, which is strange considering the Republican majority. It gives me faith in humanity again. I lost it, for so long. I made bad friend decisions, and was stuck in a loop of gloom and doom, where everything was a struggle, and everything was something to fight against. It was tiring, and I'm ready to see the world in a better light.