This is water

This morning I woke up at 10 a.m. to a soundtrack of Top 40 R&B slow jams, courtesy of a guy sitting outside my window in his car, drinking a 40 ... windows rolled down, no regard for those of us trying to enjoy a slow Sunday morning. After two hours (I'm not kidding), he walked across the street and peed on the apartment building across from mine. When I left my apartment at 1:00, he was still there; though the soundtrack had changed from Rhianna to some sort of Mexican polka.

Sometime during this whole debacle, I collected myself enough to sit down and read the NYT online ... only to discover that David Foster Wallace committed suicide on Friday.

I think this is as good a time as any to break this out: 2005 Kenyon University Commencement Speech. My mantra for the past several years. Ringing especially true these days of new and rude and dirty and uncomfortable and unfamiliar.

This is water. This is water. This is water.

R.I.P. D.F.W.

Bibliononsense

So I've been grappling with the idea of writing a book. My hesitation lies in the fact that I feel that just by saying "I'm thinking of writing a book," I've catapulted myself into a very special circle of hell reserved for self-indulgent know-it-all assholes. But I do really want to write one. At some point.

What, at nearly 25, do I have to contribute to the world, save for a knapsack full of crude jokes and some optimism and a subpar vocabulary (according to the GRE)? Well, that's very much TBD, but I'm going to use the next year to start recording some blah blah blahs and whathaveyous. I'm envisioning something about education (shocking!) ... maybe some sort of memoir about going from a three year old who sat in my bedroom teaching my Teddy Ruxpin how to read; through an iffy public school system in which Mr. Stamp laughed at my 16 year old self when I told him I wanted to go to Harvard; to a Jesuit University; to, finally an Ivy League school where I'm going to study ways in which I can make education more accessible and equal and just plan exciting for kids back in the communities in which I grew up.

People seem to think it's funny that I'm a bleeding hearted liberal athiest borne from a conservative Christian family (my family doesn't know what to think of it) ... I wouldn't have it any other way, but in large part, I have my education and the incredible folks I've met along my academic way to thank for Katie ver. 2008. I'm a nerd to the core, always have been, and I love it and I want to write about it.

So, anyways, here's to spouting off some big words that I hope to live up to this year ...

Eureka!

You know, sometimes writing is a special kind of torture.  Those times when you can actually visualize the roadblock in your thought process but can't manage to get it out of the way?  When you start editing your words before they've even hit the page?  When everything you write makes you sound like you've the charisma of a friggin' piece of toast?  Those are the best times.

I've been entrenched in the world's worst (and most inconvenient) case of writer's block this past week.  Every time I sat down to answer the question "Why are you applying for this degree?" I was paralyzed with indecision.  I know why I want to do what I want to do, but I couldn't draw a connection between my past and my future.  

And then, all of the sudden, fifteen minutes ago, the clouds parted etc. etc. and it became completely simple.  Sublimely simple.  Now I can't stop writing.  It's GOOD.  I sound like, you know, a serious candidate!  Sweet relief!  

More to come.

HALLELUJAH. 

my head is a box full of everything

So, two major updates: 1) I'M GOING TO NEW ZEALAND IN 15 DAYS to celebrate the wonder that is our favorite Kiwi, Mr. Cameron Death, before he leaves us for, um, Los Angeles. It is just now sinking in that we will be Cammy-less in a month which for me means a) there will no longer be Perez Hilton interludes in the Microsoft dinner conversations (I may not survive) b) I might actually start having to, like, hang out with my boyfriend and stuff c) no more night eating stories d) Seattle will be that much less tidy and scented-candled. In fact, Seattle might actually smell completely different without Cameron and his artillery of scented candles. God, it's going to be miserable. 2) My wonderful and financially irresponsible boyfriend bought me a PIANO for my birthday. A friggin piano! It's electric, which I had always kind of wondered about ... but friends, let me tell you, I am in love. She is beautiful. She SOUNDS beautiful. She also has a headphone jack (important when you live in a small apartment and your boyfriend is tired of hearing Chopin). The problem is, I CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT IT. I'm at work and all I think about is this piano. I just want to go home and play it. It was strange, the first night I got it I couldn't do a thing, and then the other night, all of the sudden, my fingers just REMEMBERED how to do it. And now I'm Pathetique-ing all over the place. I forgot how much I miss playing music! I did it for so many years and then didn't do it for so many years. It's very therapeutic. Oh yeah, there is also a 3) Keep your eye out for my fight with a fellow Seattlest writer about why Portland > Seattle. Should be up today or tomorrow. And then all of you Portland peeps best be chiming in. Support the homeland.

writing for real

i've been running around like crazy the past few days. i spent yesterday morning interviewing a reporter from the times. fantastic guy. anyways, i wrote a profile of him this morning. here i like constructive criticism! edit: link is fixed!

writing

last night adam reminded me how much i used to write. at one point i was writing two, three times a day. we're not talking hemingway here: just writing. over the past year i've really fallen out of that habit. which has turned out to be a bad move. blogs have the tendency to be a bunch of self-indulgent twaddle. but there's something to be said about putting down your thoughts and inviting others to read. it's a small sort of risk, but a risk still. and risk is what i'm craving right now. it's been a rough couple of months. so much so my body has completely rejected me this week. i'm drained. my kitten olive goes in to be spayed tomorrow. she is lying on my chest right now pawing at my face. totally unaware. i am overcome with guilt. like i'm about to turn her over to the mob. i can't look her in the eye. if she comes home tomorrow with one of those cones on her head, my heart might just fall out of my chest. it is a good thing i don't have children at this point, because they would all be wearing lojacks.