Happy New Years Eve Everyone!
This morning I crawled out of bed after a wonderfully sound sleep following our 12 hour car trek from Atlanta to Cleveland. As I snuggled into my warm sheets and checked the time, I little brown dot caught my eye. And there it was. A bed bug. And one of his (hopefully few) friends.
AND SO ENDS 2013.
But really.
How does this happen to one person, two times, IN TWO DIFFERENT STATES NO LESS, 3 months apart?
So my New Years Eve Day will be spent with my mom and a laundromat. *bells, whistles.*
I'm ringing in the new year with a distinct sense that I am actually breeding bedbugs in my body somewhere and the worst buzz cut imaginable for my face shape. From a "first word problems" perspective, this is looking pretty bleak. But luckily for me, the bugs are only from our suitcases (damn you hotel) and I look bomb ass hot in beanies. I refuse to take this as any indication of how the following year will progress.
In an effort to make 2014 as bug free and stylish as possible, I've made some New Years resolutions that I'd like to share with you. But because it's only the 31st, you'll have to wait for tomorrow for those. Today, I will check in with my 2012 self's resolutions to see what marvelous progress I have made. Here we go.
1. Be able to do at least 1 pull up.
Nope. Let's not talk about it.
2. Actually vomit from drinking.
What was I thinking? I think its an achievement that this never happened...save for that one night with Pearl... you know what, let's not talk about this one either.
3. Volunteer.
Pass. Clearly I've made great strides this year.
4. Food.
SUCCESS! Its a work in progress, but I haven't weighed myself since Easter 2013 and I've only had like 3 meltdowns over cookies! And I'm not dieting. At all. Ahhh gold stars and self congratulatory praises!
5. Speak Up.
This year I realized that conversations are a 2 way street. I think it made a difference.
6. Do Work.
I did a clean quadruple pirouette at Hot Mikado auditions. It will never happen again. My work here is done.
6.5 Do not beat yourself up because you are not the most slender, graceful, powerful, flexible, stunning dancer in the world. Work with what you've got. Boom.
Yep. Backfired in me telling my ballet teacher that I don't like ballet. So I'm trying to resolve that. Doing well on that front though.
7. Work as a Barista at some point.
Nope. Though I did apply for several barista positions they value promptness and experience over my CPR and CPI certifications.
8. Write a play.
Aint nobody got time for that.
9. Date.
Yep. I now have more super cool gay friends and a separate collection of horror stories. I'm going to prematurely deem this successful. And ongoing. So hit me up.
10. Follow my gut.
I described this as "being less type A." And if that's the case, its a mixed bag. But overall, not too shabby.
So there ya go. My accomplishments and failures splayed out for the internet.
I gotta go do all my laundry. Literally. All my laundry.
Kaitlyn.
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
Spanish Dos No Es Divertido.
I considered doing a rapid fire tweet approach to studying for my Spanish test tomorrow, but I hate when people post like maniacs all over the feed. So I'm condensing all my Spanish bitching into a blog. If you're looking for my blog about a window, scroll down. Man, the quality of this thing has taken a dive. It's ok. Finals are coming. All I want to do is blog during finals. But here's this. Enjoy.
12:19
What the hell kind of textbook doesn't have a table of contents? I'm gonna need so many post-its.
..haha post-its sounds like post tits. I'm 14. It's fine.
12:25
Shits so hot motha fuckas gonna fiiiind me, that shit cray FOCUS. Are those even the right wordsFOCUS.
12:44
"Ningun/o/a/os/as/ (a)" why you gotta be so tricky? There are too many rules with you. I don't like it.
12:48
Balls, I never texted my mom back. She texted at like 8am. Crappers. Sorry mom.
12:50
Either my Spanish books smells like weed or I'm losing my mind.
"O mi libro de Espanol...smells... que weed o yo soy... losing my mind." Almost. Almost but not really.
1:00
Found my directors notebook instructions in my Spanish book. Too much stress in one place at one time. My shoulder blades are going to be stuck to my ears.
1:05
"dir" "har" Stupid.
1:10
I'm going to sleep like a rock on Grayhound tomorrow.
1:24
This summer I told my boss, "No I totally get shlepping, I'm a theatre major, I do a lot of weird stuff for money." It didn't occur to me until now why that's weird. I was thinking more along the lines of dressing up in full cat unitard to belt Memory at a college arts fest. Maybe I did that a few summers ago.
1:27
Showers are like fuel for studying.
1:47
And like magic for remembering the Italian in the aria you're singing tomorrow.
2:02
The wall has been hit. Good night all.
Kait
12:19
What the hell kind of textbook doesn't have a table of contents? I'm gonna need so many post-its.
..haha post-its sounds like post tits. I'm 14. It's fine.
12:25
Shits so hot motha fuckas gonna fiiiind me, that shit cray FOCUS. Are those even the right wordsFOCUS.
12:44
"Ningun/o/a/os/as/ (a)" why you gotta be so tricky? There are too many rules with you. I don't like it.
12:48
Balls, I never texted my mom back. She texted at like 8am. Crappers. Sorry mom.
12:50
Either my Spanish books smells like weed or I'm losing my mind.
"O mi libro de Espanol...smells... que weed o yo soy... losing my mind." Almost. Almost but not really.
1:00
Found my directors notebook instructions in my Spanish book. Too much stress in one place at one time. My shoulder blades are going to be stuck to my ears.
1:05
"dir" "har" Stupid.
1:10
I'm going to sleep like a rock on Grayhound tomorrow.
1:24
This summer I told my boss, "No I totally get shlepping, I'm a theatre major, I do a lot of weird stuff for money." It didn't occur to me until now why that's weird. I was thinking more along the lines of dressing up in full cat unitard to belt Memory at a college arts fest. Maybe I did that a few summers ago.
1:27
Showers are like fuel for studying.
1:47
And like magic for remembering the Italian in the aria you're singing tomorrow.
2:02
The wall has been hit. Good night all.
Kait
Saturday, November 23, 2013
Bay Window
Quote of the Day: "We've reached wigvana" -The lovely Kari and I on the perfection of Olivia's wig.
Quote of the Day II: "Is it a problem that I'm more attracted to mac and cheese than I am to human beings?" -The Queer Council on gay dating.
I think I may have mentioned this previously, but I do all my writing (also eating, homeworking, movie watching, visiting, etc.) from the same chair at our table in front of this lovely bay window that overlooks the street. I like to open all the windows because the view is very "Romantic Manhattan." We've got a clear shot down an ally, phone lines connecting rows of brownstone apartments, tree limbs that dangle in front of the glass, property fences, chain link fences, street signs, and the occasional arrest or drunk college student. Sometimes all in one unlucky person. I like being in this room because it's like being in a submarine or Star Trek spaceship. The ultimate fly on the wall position. Which I love. At least until I realize that windows are windows and as much as I enjoy the view, anyone can see in. Literally the neighborhood can see me live out 50% of my home life. The other 50% is spent sleeping. Usually with the window open so really it's not an improvement.
One day this summer I had just biked home from work on a blazing hot day. I have very little tolerance for shifts in temperature. I am happy as a clam from upper 50s to mid 70s. Chicago gets this for like, a week and a half every year. Maybe. I come from a long line of sweaty ladies, so this whole physical activity in the sun in the heat in my Orthodox Jewish garb absolutely necessitates stripping down to a bra and shorts within seconds of entering my apartment. I made myself a bite to eat and sat in my spot to wind down and have dinner. I didn't realize until about a half hour in. Made direct eye contact with a woman walking her dog. To that, I was wearing a pink bra with a bow on it. Because when your chest measures smaller than it did in 5th grade, you buy your bras in the children's section of target. Pink is inevitable. And they all have bows. If you try to cut off the bows, sometimes the bra breaks in half. So you cut your losses. You can counter act this by making a point to not wear any pink on the outside of your body ever.
Tonight the bay window is looking pretty damn handsome. I've developed an obsessive love of candles and have some fancy holiday ones in clear display. To add ambiance, I plugged in my roommate's strings of colored lights. It looks like I'm on a date, with myself, in the red light district. I dig it. It's freezing so I've busted out my favorite waffle shirt. It was my brothers and it has a yellow anarchy symbol spray painted on the front. And it doesn't smell like sweaty dude. So that's nice. And anyone who might be stalkerishly watching me has seen me down two bottles of tea in the past hour. Because there's nothing wrong with being really hydrated.
And we have bloody hands on our window pane. The end.
This is how to not write your directors notebook. Because when you put your mind to it, (not when you're gushing about your favorite window) you're a much better writer than you are a director.
Good night friends,
Kait
Quote of the Day II: "Is it a problem that I'm more attracted to mac and cheese than I am to human beings?" -The Queer Council on gay dating.
I think I may have mentioned this previously, but I do all my writing (also eating, homeworking, movie watching, visiting, etc.) from the same chair at our table in front of this lovely bay window that overlooks the street. I like to open all the windows because the view is very "Romantic Manhattan." We've got a clear shot down an ally, phone lines connecting rows of brownstone apartments, tree limbs that dangle in front of the glass, property fences, chain link fences, street signs, and the occasional arrest or drunk college student. Sometimes all in one unlucky person. I like being in this room because it's like being in a submarine or Star Trek spaceship. The ultimate fly on the wall position. Which I love. At least until I realize that windows are windows and as much as I enjoy the view, anyone can see in. Literally the neighborhood can see me live out 50% of my home life. The other 50% is spent sleeping. Usually with the window open so really it's not an improvement.
One day this summer I had just biked home from work on a blazing hot day. I have very little tolerance for shifts in temperature. I am happy as a clam from upper 50s to mid 70s. Chicago gets this for like, a week and a half every year. Maybe. I come from a long line of sweaty ladies, so this whole physical activity in the sun in the heat in my Orthodox Jewish garb absolutely necessitates stripping down to a bra and shorts within seconds of entering my apartment. I made myself a bite to eat and sat in my spot to wind down and have dinner. I didn't realize until about a half hour in. Made direct eye contact with a woman walking her dog. To that, I was wearing a pink bra with a bow on it. Because when your chest measures smaller than it did in 5th grade, you buy your bras in the children's section of target. Pink is inevitable. And they all have bows. If you try to cut off the bows, sometimes the bra breaks in half. So you cut your losses. You can counter act this by making a point to not wear any pink on the outside of your body ever.
Tonight the bay window is looking pretty damn handsome. I've developed an obsessive love of candles and have some fancy holiday ones in clear display. To add ambiance, I plugged in my roommate's strings of colored lights. It looks like I'm on a date, with myself, in the red light district. I dig it. It's freezing so I've busted out my favorite waffle shirt. It was my brothers and it has a yellow anarchy symbol spray painted on the front. And it doesn't smell like sweaty dude. So that's nice. And anyone who might be stalkerishly watching me has seen me down two bottles of tea in the past hour. Because there's nothing wrong with being really hydrated.
And we have bloody hands on our window pane. The end.
This is how to not write your directors notebook. Because when you put your mind to it, (not when you're gushing about your favorite window) you're a much better writer than you are a director.
Good night friends,
Kait
Monday, November 18, 2013
Tattoos.
Aye.
I have too much work to be writing this blog. Yolo. (oof, I have no intent of bringing that back. so you know.)
But I have been writing academic stuff all night and it's starting to get real scatterbrained. So I'm switching to this.
I think I want to get a tattoo for my brother. It's super cliche and stuff, but there's something appealing about having a symbol or phrase permanently etched into my skin that reminds me of him. It's like keeping his spirit alive. Sort of. Also it's bad ass and he would support it a hundred percent I think.
Problem is, I'm not quite as impulsively ballsy as Nick was and I definitely have a better understanding of consequences than he did. Like what if I hate it in like 10 years. I'm kinda stuck. Also I pass out nearly every time I give blood because, despite my expert covering of the anxiety needles give me, needles cutting my skin really freaks my shit.
Despite that, I've had several ideas in the past 3 years. And here they are.
1) "Those you love and lost still walk behind you" etched into my foot.
I have too much work to be writing this blog. Yolo. (oof, I have no intent of bringing that back. so you know.)
But I have been writing academic stuff all night and it's starting to get real scatterbrained. So I'm switching to this.
I think I want to get a tattoo for my brother. It's super cliche and stuff, but there's something appealing about having a symbol or phrase permanently etched into my skin that reminds me of him. It's like keeping his spirit alive. Sort of. Also it's bad ass and he would support it a hundred percent I think.
Problem is, I'm not quite as impulsively ballsy as Nick was and I definitely have a better understanding of consequences than he did. Like what if I hate it in like 10 years. I'm kinda stuck. Also I pass out nearly every time I give blood because, despite my expert covering of the anxiety needles give me, needles cutting my skin really freaks my shit.
Despite that, I've had several ideas in the past 3 years. And here they are.
1) "Those you love and lost still walk behind you" etched into my foot.
- Self explanatory. And it's on my foot and it's about walking, get it? And it's from my favorite musical. Problems: Is it creepy if I ever get cast in said musical and just happen to have a really heavy, personal show from the quote permanently inked into my foot? Also Nick didn't like musicals. So there's that. Also the question of font choice.
2) "Life is what happens to you when you're out making other plans" painfully scarred into my shoulder blade.
- Because if I were a little more relaxed, it would be my motto. Actually, this one is mostly just for me. But it is a quote from the Beatles. And Nick liked the Beatles. They weren't his favorite band, but I am definitely not getting something written by a death metal band. Nope. Nope. Side note, I really don't like the song "Beautiful Boy" (where the quote is from) so the regret potential is like, a 7 or 8. Out of 10.
3) A small autumn maple leaf on the underside of my forearm.
- Location: There's a lot to be said for having something beautiful and red on my arm. I like that there's no words, symbols seems better to explain. Fall is my favorite season. Nick died in October and I remember coming home for the funeral and loving how bright the leaves were. I associate fall leaves with the woods between the high school and Nick's elementary school. Also with marching band. Nick was a very talented musician and we were in marching band together for a year. Some of my favorite memories of him are from band and I really like the idea of incorporating music into this. but I don't want to do a musical symbol. My only concerns are that from far away it will look like a scrape or something. So I was thinking about going for a more brownish color? I dunno. This is the front runner so far.
Also, just in general, it might be problematic to get a dead brother tattoo of any sort. I mean, it might be a bit of a bummer. If not for me, for anyone who knows who it symbolizes. Mulling it over. Please feel free to give suggestions, advice, ideas? Yep yep. Ugh. I should maybe get back to my directing notebook.
Yeah no, I can't leave you on that heavy a note. That's just not responsible. So I gave myself a haircut yesterday. Not like my typical scissors to bangs, I buzzed it. Not bald, mom you can relax now. Mostly I have myself a shattily done fade. But I'm diggin it. I just need to fix the top. Cause I have literally one curl that is just popping out of my head. And, while I love this, it's a tad out of place.
Kait
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
Gettin' Festive
Happy 30 degrees Chicago!
This happens every year. And I bitch about it every year. Maybe if I pretend that I'm happy about it online, it will translate to my actual life.
Haven't done this in a while, but I have TWO fantastic quotes of the day. Yesterday my lovely friend Elaine and I went to We Will Rock You at the Palace. During intermission I went to the bathroom. Now if you've ever tried to take a wiz during intermission at one of the big houses downtown you've experienced the bathroom ushers. Their sole mission is to make peeing the most anxiety provoking experience of your life. The woman in the stall next to me would shout "I'm still peeing, please wait... I'm still peeing, please wait" every five seconds or so. Amen girl. As if the quote gods hadn't smiled on me enough, there was more. In the second act of the musical the romantic leads start making out and then the stage blacks out. In the moment before the applause the gentleman behind me explains to his wife, "that means they had sex." Day, made.
So my battle cry of the past few weeks has been GETTIN' FESTIVE. And I think of it in all caps every time I say it. This is one of my favorite times of the year. I love being outside in the autumn. It feels like the world is getting ready for bed. Autumn is a 30 minute before bed shower where no one runs the dishwasher or takes a shit while your basking in the warmth.
And that's worth celebrating. Get festive with me.
Nay, GET FESTIVE with me.
I understand if you're having trouble motivating your one man festivity train. It's no easy task. I'm in college, I have classes and work and homework after that. But fear not fellow students. Allow me to share some of my favorite fall daily festivities with you. I could write for Better Homes and Gardens with this wording. Get ready.
1. Festive Candles. You know what makes a room instantly fancier? A lit candle. I write this from my cluttered little bedroom with a scented candle that is making the room smell like nostalgia itself. Like little house on the prairie. Only I have the internet and they had scarlet fever.
2. Festive Tea. You know what I really love about fall? Pumpkin Spice Lattes. But those puppies are 5 bucks a pop. And I work part time. Solution: Festive tea. Don't feel like waking up for that 8:30am Spanish class? Me neither. Like ever. But it's way better if you walk there clutching to a mug of home steeped "apple spice" tea.
3. Festive Music. My pandora recommendations are Mumford and Sons, Lumineers, Time for Three, Blackbird, Iron and Wine, and anything that has "Rocky Mountains" or "Portland" in the title. Basically as long as the musicians are exceptionally hairy, barefoot, and/or playing their music under a tree, it's a safe bet.
4. Festive Bakery. I shop at Aldi. Aldi is good at getting festive. Every week when I go to do my grocery shopping I am confronted with so much festive bakery on sale. Last week I made pumpkin spice cookies, tonight they were selling maple leaf cookies and pumpkin spice bread mixes. Having lots of yummy bakery in the apartment makes me anxious, so I bring it to work or give it as a spontaneous gift. Really everyone wins here.
5. Festive Food. Now that I'm done with Yonkers, I have time to cook. This is glorious. I haven't yet, but I have plans in the works for gourd based meals. Squash, pumpkin, raisins, apples, brown sugar. Cannot wait.
6. Festive Flannel. If I had my druthers I would wear flannel all the time. I've always been drawn to flannel, and then I found out it was about the gayest article of clothing one can own. Que lots of thrift store trips. And for the next few months, everyone else will be on board with my fashion statement. It would be a crime to let this opportunity pass.
So instead of (or in addition to) crabbing about how f*cking cold it is outside, enjoy the self propelled festivity.
Kaitlyn
This happens every year. And I bitch about it every year. Maybe if I pretend that I'm happy about it online, it will translate to my actual life.
Haven't done this in a while, but I have TWO fantastic quotes of the day. Yesterday my lovely friend Elaine and I went to We Will Rock You at the Palace. During intermission I went to the bathroom. Now if you've ever tried to take a wiz during intermission at one of the big houses downtown you've experienced the bathroom ushers. Their sole mission is to make peeing the most anxiety provoking experience of your life. The woman in the stall next to me would shout "I'm still peeing, please wait... I'm still peeing, please wait" every five seconds or so. Amen girl. As if the quote gods hadn't smiled on me enough, there was more. In the second act of the musical the romantic leads start making out and then the stage blacks out. In the moment before the applause the gentleman behind me explains to his wife, "that means they had sex." Day, made.
So my battle cry of the past few weeks has been GETTIN' FESTIVE. And I think of it in all caps every time I say it. This is one of my favorite times of the year. I love being outside in the autumn. It feels like the world is getting ready for bed. Autumn is a 30 minute before bed shower where no one runs the dishwasher or takes a shit while your basking in the warmth.
And that's worth celebrating. Get festive with me.
Nay, GET FESTIVE with me.
I understand if you're having trouble motivating your one man festivity train. It's no easy task. I'm in college, I have classes and work and homework after that. But fear not fellow students. Allow me to share some of my favorite fall daily festivities with you. I could write for Better Homes and Gardens with this wording. Get ready.
1. Festive Candles. You know what makes a room instantly fancier? A lit candle. I write this from my cluttered little bedroom with a scented candle that is making the room smell like nostalgia itself. Like little house on the prairie. Only I have the internet and they had scarlet fever.
2. Festive Tea. You know what I really love about fall? Pumpkin Spice Lattes. But those puppies are 5 bucks a pop. And I work part time. Solution: Festive tea. Don't feel like waking up for that 8:30am Spanish class? Me neither. Like ever. But it's way better if you walk there clutching to a mug of home steeped "apple spice" tea.
3. Festive Music. My pandora recommendations are Mumford and Sons, Lumineers, Time for Three, Blackbird, Iron and Wine, and anything that has "Rocky Mountains" or "Portland" in the title. Basically as long as the musicians are exceptionally hairy, barefoot, and/or playing their music under a tree, it's a safe bet.
4. Festive Bakery. I shop at Aldi. Aldi is good at getting festive. Every week when I go to do my grocery shopping I am confronted with so much festive bakery on sale. Last week I made pumpkin spice cookies, tonight they were selling maple leaf cookies and pumpkin spice bread mixes. Having lots of yummy bakery in the apartment makes me anxious, so I bring it to work or give it as a spontaneous gift. Really everyone wins here.
5. Festive Food. Now that I'm done with Yonkers, I have time to cook. This is glorious. I haven't yet, but I have plans in the works for gourd based meals. Squash, pumpkin, raisins, apples, brown sugar. Cannot wait.
6. Festive Flannel. If I had my druthers I would wear flannel all the time. I've always been drawn to flannel, and then I found out it was about the gayest article of clothing one can own. Que lots of thrift store trips. And for the next few months, everyone else will be on board with my fashion statement. It would be a crime to let this opportunity pass.
So instead of (or in addition to) crabbing about how f*cking cold it is outside, enjoy the self propelled festivity.
Kaitlyn
Friday, October 18, 2013
Funny Brother Stories
Ello Chapsticks,
So yesterday marked my little brother Nick's 3 year deathiversary (for details, see my posts from late spring of this year). I'm not particularly good at timing sadness to strike me on a particular date, so I had a relatively painless week. Plus my friends have been checking in with me because they're lovely. But I have been thinking about him a lot the past couple weeks, and in celebration of his life I am going to tell you some laughable stories from our childhood.
And in honor of the season of pumpkin, they are all food themed! So enjoy that!
Our parents have been on a health kick since whole wheat bread was invented, so Nick and I grew up with a lot of stir fried veggies for dinner and granola bars for dessert. Mind you, now I would KILL for a meal that isn't eaten on my way to class or from a microwavable bag, but at the time I just wanted some Mac and Cheese. So when junk food was in the house, you had to act fast or suffer in whole wheat agony until the next holiday. One incident I remember in particular was when my dad brought home a carton of Malted Milk Balls. Nick and I waged a literal game of capture the flag complete with decoy messages, loud music to thwart any attempts at sneaking, and beating each other to ground to get a hold of them.
My dad went on this crazy fiber diet circa 2005, right around the time that protein bars and health shakes were getting popular. One day my mom found these delicious Fiber One bars at Sams Club and bought them in bulk. Now there hadn't been chocolate in the house in weeks and these things had chocolate chips in them. Neither of us paid much attention to the text proudly boasting that this one little chocolate bar contained 40% of your daily recommended fiber. We were so used to our parents buying boring food, we were just jazzed about the chocolate component. In a moment of weakness brought on by weeks of deprivation, Nick at five of them. In one sitting. Hours later he emerged from the bathroom looking pretty haggard. He never did it again.
I don't have a great transition into this little anecdote, but it's too memorable for me to not mention. Nick and I had a mutual love of white bread because all my parents bought was this dry Brownberry Whole Wheat bread. (Super delicious, but again, we were 10). So for every birthday and Christmas we would take our $5 a week allowance and buy each other a loaf of white bread. I considered leaving a loaf on his grave, but then I pictured it all moldy and rain soaked.
Speaking of Birthdays and Christmas, every Easter my family bakes these pound cakes in the shape of a bunny and a lamb. Because we're Polish as Perogies. Anyhow, the bunny was sufficiently cuter and since Nick was a baby and wined about it, he always got to decorate the bunny. When we were little we got to frost them, dye some coconut, and sprinkle it on there so your lamb or bunny had a nice pastel hue to it. I am a square, so my lamb was always baby blue with black jelly bean eyes and a kindhearted, holiday oriented, smile. When Nick was in middle school he made the bunny blood red with fangs and some sort of skin condition.
That same year he drew dicks and pagan symbols in white crayon on all our eater eggs before we dyed them. Mom was none too pleased.
One of my favorite Nick stories is how every time we went out to eat at a restaurant if there was a cute waitress, he would try to order alcohol. Now Nick is three years younger than me and he checked out before 17, so he was never anywhere near legal drinking age. Usually the waitress laughed it off he got a Coke, but this one time we were at Applebees I think and the waitress actually wrote down his order and started to walk off. I don't know how this girl thought he was serious because he ordered the Bond drink every time, "I'll have a martini, shaken. Not stirred." She finally decided that maybe this little asshat is in middle school and, much to his chagrin, didn't bring him the drink.
Here's to you kid. I miss you, and love you. Remember, you posted this picture to facebook. Not me. And let's be frank, you knew there was no way you were getting a classy memorial blog from me. You're welcome.
Well that's all for today. But expect more. Obviously not all food themed, but we did plenty of suburban kid shenanigans that I will definitely be writing about on here at some point. Enjoy the chilly weekend! Get some pumpkin stuff, bust out your scarves, do fall!
Kait
So yesterday marked my little brother Nick's 3 year deathiversary (for details, see my posts from late spring of this year). I'm not particularly good at timing sadness to strike me on a particular date, so I had a relatively painless week. Plus my friends have been checking in with me because they're lovely. But I have been thinking about him a lot the past couple weeks, and in celebration of his life I am going to tell you some laughable stories from our childhood.
And in honor of the season of pumpkin, they are all food themed! So enjoy that!
Our parents have been on a health kick since whole wheat bread was invented, so Nick and I grew up with a lot of stir fried veggies for dinner and granola bars for dessert. Mind you, now I would KILL for a meal that isn't eaten on my way to class or from a microwavable bag, but at the time I just wanted some Mac and Cheese. So when junk food was in the house, you had to act fast or suffer in whole wheat agony until the next holiday. One incident I remember in particular was when my dad brought home a carton of Malted Milk Balls. Nick and I waged a literal game of capture the flag complete with decoy messages, loud music to thwart any attempts at sneaking, and beating each other to ground to get a hold of them.
My dad went on this crazy fiber diet circa 2005, right around the time that protein bars and health shakes were getting popular. One day my mom found these delicious Fiber One bars at Sams Club and bought them in bulk. Now there hadn't been chocolate in the house in weeks and these things had chocolate chips in them. Neither of us paid much attention to the text proudly boasting that this one little chocolate bar contained 40% of your daily recommended fiber. We were so used to our parents buying boring food, we were just jazzed about the chocolate component. In a moment of weakness brought on by weeks of deprivation, Nick at five of them. In one sitting. Hours later he emerged from the bathroom looking pretty haggard. He never did it again.
I don't have a great transition into this little anecdote, but it's too memorable for me to not mention. Nick and I had a mutual love of white bread because all my parents bought was this dry Brownberry Whole Wheat bread. (Super delicious, but again, we were 10). So for every birthday and Christmas we would take our $5 a week allowance and buy each other a loaf of white bread. I considered leaving a loaf on his grave, but then I pictured it all moldy and rain soaked.
Speaking of Birthdays and Christmas, every Easter my family bakes these pound cakes in the shape of a bunny and a lamb. Because we're Polish as Perogies. Anyhow, the bunny was sufficiently cuter and since Nick was a baby and wined about it, he always got to decorate the bunny. When we were little we got to frost them, dye some coconut, and sprinkle it on there so your lamb or bunny had a nice pastel hue to it. I am a square, so my lamb was always baby blue with black jelly bean eyes and a kindhearted, holiday oriented, smile. When Nick was in middle school he made the bunny blood red with fangs and some sort of skin condition.
That same year he drew dicks and pagan symbols in white crayon on all our eater eggs before we dyed them. Mom was none too pleased.
One of my favorite Nick stories is how every time we went out to eat at a restaurant if there was a cute waitress, he would try to order alcohol. Now Nick is three years younger than me and he checked out before 17, so he was never anywhere near legal drinking age. Usually the waitress laughed it off he got a Coke, but this one time we were at Applebees I think and the waitress actually wrote down his order and started to walk off. I don't know how this girl thought he was serious because he ordered the Bond drink every time, "I'll have a martini, shaken. Not stirred." She finally decided that maybe this little asshat is in middle school and, much to his chagrin, didn't bring him the drink.
Here's to you kid. I miss you, and love you. Remember, you posted this picture to facebook. Not me. And let's be frank, you knew there was no way you were getting a classy memorial blog from me. You're welcome.
Well that's all for today. But expect more. Obviously not all food themed, but we did plenty of suburban kid shenanigans that I will definitely be writing about on here at some point. Enjoy the chilly weekend! Get some pumpkin stuff, bust out your scarves, do fall!
Kait
Monday, September 30, 2013
Bed Bugs
Also known as the worst creatures on this planet.
Actual hell on earth.
I'm about to use all the four letter words. And delve too far into my personal life. Immaturity at it's finest. You've been warned.
Last Monday night I was chilling in my bed reading a book for a few hours before bed. Noticed that I had an unusual number of little red bug bites on my one leg. Thought, "huh, that's weird, maybe you should check your sheets to see if there's a spider or something." Found a bed bug. Didn't realize it was a bed bug till I googled in the next morning and found a picture of that little fucker. World collapsed promptly.
In case you don't know much about bedbugs, allow me to scare the piss out of you. They are everywhere all the time. You're exposed to them everyday, especially if you live in a city. Then sometimes you just happen to track in a baby or an egg somewhere on your clothes. It feeds on you for a while then burrows into your mattress, bed frame, pillows, wood floors, and carpet to spawn and ruin your life. They are nocturnal, so you're safe during the day. But once the sun goes down, they smell your body sleeping, find you, and eat you.
Oh, and most people don't even know they have um, cause they're nocturnal.
To get rid of them, you have to call an exterminator. To prep for said exterminator, you wash every piece of fabric in your house (clothes, sheets, pillows, coats, curtains, bags, etc), double bag um in garbage bags, and finally pile all your shit into the middle of your living room to clear the perimeter of every room.
Quite seriously a living nightmare. And Sam and I were in tech for Yonkers that week. Fan-fucking-tastic timing.
However, there is a silver lining to everything. In retrospect, I recount Highlights of The Great Bedbug "Infestation" of 2013.
1. When I first called my building supervisor to tell him I had bedbugs, he asked who slept over to give them to me. Upon telling him that no one has been over, he asked where I've been sleeping. Answer: In my own bed. So thanks Dwayne for reminding me that I'm not getting laid, I'm in tech, AND I HAVE BEDBUGS. Ew, sorry that was too personal for the internet. But it's too good a saying to not share. You're welcome.
2. Emily and I not realizing that we had to bag our laundry so we hung it all over the infested house. Aaaaaand repeat.
3. Emily and I sharing the futon for two nights. She's an excellent bed buddy.
4. Our family picture of our infested stuffed animals. They got hell'a fluffy in the dryer. It was adorable.
5. Sam and I tag teamed our laundry together at a laundromat six blocks away from our apartment. We carried it there in like 4 trips total. We looked like homeless vagabonds wandering through the allies of Chicago.
6. On said laundry trip, I wore basketball shorts, a sports T, and sandals. I named my outfit: "Gay Aunt Barbra goes to the beach."
7. Sam stress drank half a gallon of lemon aid. Jack was added later.
8. My neurotic tendencies flourished. I was convinced I had thousands of them in my hair, on ALL my clothes, in my shoes, probably burrowed into my skin ready to attack and spread to everyone at any moment. This made it kind of hard to do laundry and actually believe that I'd cleaned it. I would compare this to my high school logic of why huffing Lysol (never happened, no worries) to prevent getting a cold would probably work really well and be totally healthy.
9. Getting an average of 3 hours of sleep a night for a week. I was so tired today that my eyes couldn't focus enough to spot a pirouette. But the one night I got 7 hours of sleep I was literally euphoric.
10. My outfits for the past few days have involved only 2 shirts that I just keep washing. And my gayest sandals. Hot.
Which brings us to today. 3 Days bug free. I unpacked my laundry and am keeping it in the living room for a few days. But at least I know where my clothes are. Literally the best feeling in the world.
Also HUGE THANK YOU to Gillian McGhee for being our bedbug point woman/expert/moral support. I sent her countless frantic texts (some in the middle of the night) which she promptly responded to and cried to her on the phone for like half an hour. Life saver.
Also HUGE THANK YOU to Gillian McGhee for being our bedbug point woman/expert/moral support. I sent her countless frantic texts (some in the middle of the night) which she promptly responded to and cried to her on the phone for like half an hour. Life saver.
Hope you were able to get some enjoyment from the week of hell my roommates and I just went through. Before I sign off I have to at least mention Lost in Yonkers. Cause that's happening this weekend. It's hysterical. Everyone go see it. That's all.
Good night, sleep tight, don't let the bedbugs bite.
Kaitlyn
Thursday, September 19, 2013
Quick Life Update.
Hey there.
It's been a while.
I have little quality thought to add to the internet tonight, but I did want to post SOMETHING, so here's a quick little update about what I've been up to the past month or so.
1. Lost in Yonkers! I'm the oldest female student in the cast and I'm playing the youngest boy in the show. Loving the show. It's a marathon, but in a good way. Plus the cast is just swell and I love them all. After this closes, my blog will get more interesting. But that's not for a few weeks.
2. Genderception all the time. I don't know if it's Artie or a lack of women's/gender studies class in my schedule this semester, but I've spent a whole lot of time thinking about gender without the limits (read: guidance) of someone who has a degree. Naturally I took off sprinting down the path that leads to conspiracy theories to develop a theory that gender doesn't exist. Don't get up in arms. I definitely am not claiming to have the all knowing, absolute answer. But I have thoughts. Clever thoughts. So I'm gonna tell ya'll about them soon. Post Yonkers.
3. On my (now only) bi-weekly trot to Evanston (fitness) in the rain, fall happened. In celebration, I lit a fall smelling candle. But the Newhart is so facking cold, it has given me what I can only assume is a temporary cold. But for all intensive purposes, fall is here. Even if it hits 90 again this week. There's no going back.
4. On my way into Munduleixqujkn (my backup for when I can't spell complex building names and don't feel like googling them), I passed like 10 kids smoking cigarettes and thought to myself, "shit, I would be a great smoker. I love putting stuff in my mouth, it makes you look bad ass, and it's relaxing. I need this in my life." Then I was like, "You are a singer and a runner and a dancer. And you're really poor. Don't be dumb." Later this evening my roommate and I had literally the same discussion. Worth noting.
5. I found out at 11:30 that today (now yesterday?) is (...was) Tegan and Sara Quin's birthday. Really this was just an excuse to look at gifs of them. Not ashamed.
6. I have this familiar urge to cut my hair really really really short. It's already really really short, so I don't know how much further I can go.
7. I'm now absolutely out of worthy things to blog about. I was about to start complaining about acne, so I'm going to spare you and cap it here. Just know that I am alive and will continue to update this post tech week.
The end.
Enjoy the fall happenings.
Kaitlyn
It's been a while.
I have little quality thought to add to the internet tonight, but I did want to post SOMETHING, so here's a quick little update about what I've been up to the past month or so.
1. Lost in Yonkers! I'm the oldest female student in the cast and I'm playing the youngest boy in the show. Loving the show. It's a marathon, but in a good way. Plus the cast is just swell and I love them all. After this closes, my blog will get more interesting. But that's not for a few weeks.
2. Genderception all the time. I don't know if it's Artie or a lack of women's/gender studies class in my schedule this semester, but I've spent a whole lot of time thinking about gender without the limits (read: guidance) of someone who has a degree. Naturally I took off sprinting down the path that leads to conspiracy theories to develop a theory that gender doesn't exist. Don't get up in arms. I definitely am not claiming to have the all knowing, absolute answer. But I have thoughts. Clever thoughts. So I'm gonna tell ya'll about them soon. Post Yonkers.
3. On my (now only) bi-weekly trot to Evanston (fitness) in the rain, fall happened. In celebration, I lit a fall smelling candle. But the Newhart is so facking cold, it has given me what I can only assume is a temporary cold. But for all intensive purposes, fall is here. Even if it hits 90 again this week. There's no going back.
4. On my way into Munduleixqujkn (my backup for when I can't spell complex building names and don't feel like googling them), I passed like 10 kids smoking cigarettes and thought to myself, "shit, I would be a great smoker. I love putting stuff in my mouth, it makes you look bad ass, and it's relaxing. I need this in my life." Then I was like, "You are a singer and a runner and a dancer. And you're really poor. Don't be dumb." Later this evening my roommate and I had literally the same discussion. Worth noting.
5. I found out at 11:30 that today (now yesterday?) is (...was) Tegan and Sara Quin's birthday. Really this was just an excuse to look at gifs of them. Not ashamed.
6. I have this familiar urge to cut my hair really really really short. It's already really really short, so I don't know how much further I can go.
7. I'm now absolutely out of worthy things to blog about. I was about to start complaining about acne, so I'm going to spare you and cap it here. Just know that I am alive and will continue to update this post tech week.
The end.
Enjoy the fall happenings.
Kaitlyn
Sunday, September 8, 2013
WOOF. Summer's over. Sub: Jew stuff.
I have so many things I want to write about but haven't had time until this moment. And now that I have time, none of the well organized, thoughtful entries want to be written. And I've already started personifying my writing, so it can really only go downhill from here.
But ok. I can do this. I'm gonna write a catch up blog that might end up being three half ass versions of the full length entries I've been planning in my head. Or inspiration will strike (preferably in the form of lighting) and I will end up writing a fucking novel tonight. Then maybe I'll break that into separate blogs. Jesus.
Jesus is actually the perfect segue.
So I worked as an office intern this summer at a small Orthodox Jewish school juuuuust west of my neighborhood in Chicago. Best summer job ever.
I was skeptical of this at first. I wore the wrong clothes to the interview and had to buy a long skirt. I don't wear skirts often much less long ones. Especially while doing manual labor. It was a treat let me tell you. Also, I only bought one skirt and wore it every single day. No one commented until the end of the summer when I pointed it out to them. I appreciate them for holding off till then.
More significantly, I was worried because I know NOTHING about Orthodox Judaism. So I turned to my autonomic schemas and determined that as a gay, Catholish intern, it would probably be best of keep a low profile. Rest assured, I did not go into this expecting homophobia and religious intolerance, but the irony of my situation was too good to not raise a few red flags.
In retrospect, I am ashamed that I went in with that mindset. Obviously I had zero problems. Plus it gave me a chance to meet so many new friends! I never realized how close knit the Jewish community is. Growing up Catholish and attending a Jesuit university, I have always been surrounded by people who shared my religious views. But I have never seen a group of people meld their religious and personal lives so seamlessly. I'm trying so hard not to sound like a cultural bigot but I learned so much this summer! Growing up in a suburb of Cleveland, the only cultural group that I can think of is Ukrainian. And I never went to a Ukrainian event. So this is new to me. I asked an obnoxious amount of questions about Jewish things. I hope I didn't make anyone uncomfortable, because I so appreciate everyone bearing with me and filling me in.
Given that this was a work environment, my sexuality never came up. But I did keep a rainbow pin that read "Girl on Girl Radio" on my bag. The button is actually an advertisement for a feminist radio show wishing everyone a happy pride, but I could see where it could get easily misconstrued for something not so school appropriate. No one commented. And I wore enough "political" t-shirts that I'm sure someone figured it out. But the people I worked with talked openly about their gay friends, relatives, coworkers, etc. Safe zone.
Lesson learned: I'm going to work really hard in the future to not pass judgement about groups of people before actually getting to know them. Also, it was just great to socialize with some people outside of the Loyola bubble. A lot of my coworkers had families and were out of school. Thank goodness life keeps happening after college.
Also, I can do just about any task in a calf length skirt now. That's one for the resume.
Kaitlyn
But ok. I can do this. I'm gonna write a catch up blog that might end up being three half ass versions of the full length entries I've been planning in my head. Or inspiration will strike (preferably in the form of lighting) and I will end up writing a fucking novel tonight. Then maybe I'll break that into separate blogs. Jesus.
Jesus is actually the perfect segue.
So I worked as an office intern this summer at a small Orthodox Jewish school juuuuust west of my neighborhood in Chicago. Best summer job ever.
I was skeptical of this at first. I wore the wrong clothes to the interview and had to buy a long skirt. I don't wear skirts often much less long ones. Especially while doing manual labor. It was a treat let me tell you. Also, I only bought one skirt and wore it every single day. No one commented until the end of the summer when I pointed it out to them. I appreciate them for holding off till then.
More significantly, I was worried because I know NOTHING about Orthodox Judaism. So I turned to my autonomic schemas and determined that as a gay, Catholish intern, it would probably be best of keep a low profile. Rest assured, I did not go into this expecting homophobia and religious intolerance, but the irony of my situation was too good to not raise a few red flags.
In retrospect, I am ashamed that I went in with that mindset. Obviously I had zero problems. Plus it gave me a chance to meet so many new friends! I never realized how close knit the Jewish community is. Growing up Catholish and attending a Jesuit university, I have always been surrounded by people who shared my religious views. But I have never seen a group of people meld their religious and personal lives so seamlessly. I'm trying so hard not to sound like a cultural bigot but I learned so much this summer! Growing up in a suburb of Cleveland, the only cultural group that I can think of is Ukrainian. And I never went to a Ukrainian event. So this is new to me. I asked an obnoxious amount of questions about Jewish things. I hope I didn't make anyone uncomfortable, because I so appreciate everyone bearing with me and filling me in.
Given that this was a work environment, my sexuality never came up. But I did keep a rainbow pin that read "Girl on Girl Radio" on my bag. The button is actually an advertisement for a feminist radio show wishing everyone a happy pride, but I could see where it could get easily misconstrued for something not so school appropriate. No one commented. And I wore enough "political" t-shirts that I'm sure someone figured it out. But the people I worked with talked openly about their gay friends, relatives, coworkers, etc. Safe zone.
Lesson learned: I'm going to work really hard in the future to not pass judgement about groups of people before actually getting to know them. Also, it was just great to socialize with some people outside of the Loyola bubble. A lot of my coworkers had families and were out of school. Thank goodness life keeps happening after college.
Also, I can do just about any task in a calf length skirt now. That's one for the resume.
Kaitlyn
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Musical Theatre Gents I'd go Straight For.
Allo.
You know that day after you've been sick for a few days where you feel invincible? That was yesterday for me. This past weekend has been spent in a fevery daze complete with headaches, blazing tonsils, and acid reflux to rival a night of tequila. The latter was brought on by an incredibly stupid decision on my part to take about 30 times the normal dose of vitamin C on an empty stomach. In case you were wondering, it turns your innards to flames. Actual flames. Like self-induced vomiting on the lake shore trail in clear view of Navy Pier, flames. It was a rough night.
But now I feel awesome.
That has nothing to do with my actual blog. I just needed an intro. So I dumped some unwarranted personal medical information on you. Anytime.
So today at work, I was whistling "Why Should I Wake Up" from Cabaret (a welcome change from "Tomorrow Belongs to Me," which is a touch problematic when you work at a Jewish school). Anyway, it reminded me of a conversation I had with my dear roommate Sam about our favorite musical theatre songs. We watched her favorite, "Younger Than Springtime," sung by a shirtless Matthew Morrison.
So. Hot.
Now, to clarify, I'm supa gay. But there's something about musical theatre gents singing love songs that makes me completely heterosexual for approximately three and a half minutes. Perhaps its that I'm usually 99% sure that the guy on stage is gay, so there's no actual threat of me having to see a guy with his pants off. We could totally just sing at each other, drink some wine, and then dance off into the curtain call and our respective partners.
Anyway, these guys deserve some recognition. Or at least the songs. No offence gentlemen, but you're interchangeable at this point. As long as you've got a deep voice and a strong vibrato, we're good to go. So come at me benevolent sexism, woo me with your hegemonic masculinity.
1. "Some Enchanted Evening" from Rodgers and Hammerstein's South Pacific. Performed by: Brian Stokes Mitchel.
Holy bass Batman. I think my stomach just fell onto the floor. In a good way.
2. "Love to Me" from Adam Guettel's Light in the Piazza. Performed by: Matthew Morrison.
If you're not swooning right now, I don't know what to tell you. But seriously Matt, I appreciate you. For kicks (and for Sam) I'm gonna throw this gem up there as well.
Look at his pecks. Just. Ugh. Sam and I have probably given this video half it's views. You're welcome youtuber.
3. Why Should I Wake Up? from Kander and Ebb's, "Cabaret." Performed by: Nic Rouleau
Ok, so I couldn't find the OCR but you get the idea right? Yeah. I wouldn't want to wake up either. Not ever.
4. "On The Street Where You Live" from Lerner and Lowe's My Fair Lady. Performed by: Bill Shirley
So damn classy. If I can't get a dude to stand outside my window, I'm taking matters into my own hands. Don't think I won't abuse my job at the costume shop to obtain this ensemble. I've done worse things in public. Singing in the middle of the night is pretty run of the mill for me.
And there you have it. The magical spell that gay men singing show tunes cast over me, now shared via youtube videos. But no joke, when I was first coming out this phenomenon was rather confusing. Then I saw Catherine Zeta Jones in Chicago. Conflicts: resolved.
By the way, I've had several conversations with several of my gay friends who cite Jones' performance in Chicago as one of their earliest crushes. There's something to that. just sayin'.
Have a good night =]
Kait
You know that day after you've been sick for a few days where you feel invincible? That was yesterday for me. This past weekend has been spent in a fevery daze complete with headaches, blazing tonsils, and acid reflux to rival a night of tequila. The latter was brought on by an incredibly stupid decision on my part to take about 30 times the normal dose of vitamin C on an empty stomach. In case you were wondering, it turns your innards to flames. Actual flames. Like self-induced vomiting on the lake shore trail in clear view of Navy Pier, flames. It was a rough night.
But now I feel awesome.
That has nothing to do with my actual blog. I just needed an intro. So I dumped some unwarranted personal medical information on you. Anytime.
So today at work, I was whistling "Why Should I Wake Up" from Cabaret (a welcome change from "Tomorrow Belongs to Me," which is a touch problematic when you work at a Jewish school). Anyway, it reminded me of a conversation I had with my dear roommate Sam about our favorite musical theatre songs. We watched her favorite, "Younger Than Springtime," sung by a shirtless Matthew Morrison.
So. Hot.
Now, to clarify, I'm supa gay. But there's something about musical theatre gents singing love songs that makes me completely heterosexual for approximately three and a half minutes. Perhaps its that I'm usually 99% sure that the guy on stage is gay, so there's no actual threat of me having to see a guy with his pants off. We could totally just sing at each other, drink some wine, and then dance off into the curtain call and our respective partners.
Anyway, these guys deserve some recognition. Or at least the songs. No offence gentlemen, but you're interchangeable at this point. As long as you've got a deep voice and a strong vibrato, we're good to go. So come at me benevolent sexism, woo me with your hegemonic masculinity.
1. "Some Enchanted Evening" from Rodgers and Hammerstein's South Pacific. Performed by: Brian Stokes Mitchel.
Holy bass Batman. I think my stomach just fell onto the floor. In a good way.
2. "Love to Me" from Adam Guettel's Light in the Piazza. Performed by: Matthew Morrison.
If you're not swooning right now, I don't know what to tell you. But seriously Matt, I appreciate you. For kicks (and for Sam) I'm gonna throw this gem up there as well.
Look at his pecks. Just. Ugh. Sam and I have probably given this video half it's views. You're welcome youtuber.
3. Why Should I Wake Up? from Kander and Ebb's, "Cabaret." Performed by: Nic Rouleau
Ok, so I couldn't find the OCR but you get the idea right? Yeah. I wouldn't want to wake up either. Not ever.
4. "On The Street Where You Live" from Lerner and Lowe's My Fair Lady. Performed by: Bill Shirley
So damn classy. If I can't get a dude to stand outside my window, I'm taking matters into my own hands. Don't think I won't abuse my job at the costume shop to obtain this ensemble. I've done worse things in public. Singing in the middle of the night is pretty run of the mill for me.
And there you have it. The magical spell that gay men singing show tunes cast over me, now shared via youtube videos. But no joke, when I was first coming out this phenomenon was rather confusing. Then I saw Catherine Zeta Jones in Chicago. Conflicts: resolved.
By the way, I've had several conversations with several of my gay friends who cite Jones' performance in Chicago as one of their earliest crushes. There's something to that. just sayin'.
Have a good night =]
Kait
Sunday, July 21, 2013
Biking. The Kaitlyn Dessoffy Story.
Allo.
As if my previous posts haven't made this abundantly clear, I have developed an emotional connection to my bike akin to that of a couple celebrating 50 years of marriage. Never mind that I have referred to myself as "emotionally stunted," and "totally comfortable with being totally uncomfortable in all situations ever." I have a bike that I love. And who probably would love me back if ze had a functioning nervous system.
Yes, I did just address my bike with a gender neutral pronoun.
Now I have fancied myself a cyclist since fetus-hood, and my love of biking has only increased with age. When I was a youngin, my family went on annual trips to Kelly's Island to bike the whole thing all day and drink wine. I didn't drink wine, cause I was 5. Throughout middle and high school I would bike to school, the pool, work, BW. And one summer my friend and I biked the metroparks like twice a week at what felt like 20mph. He was in much better shape than I. But I liked hanging out with him, so I developed quads of steel and kept up.
This summer took my already unnatural love of biking to terrifying new levels. Specifically, May 8th. The day my CTA pass expired. That very day I was working at the Court Theatre on the south side of Chicago. Biked it. Took me 2 hours. While this was a tad ambitious, I loved it. What a better morning commute than a brisk buzz down the Lake Shore Trail? Since then, I have begun biking everywhere. Literally everywhere all the time. I arrive sweaty, exhausted, happy as a clam, and depending on the time of day, covered in dead bugs. (You know those swarms of gnats you walk through? Try it at 15mph.)
Really I just want to nerd out about biking. So enjoy the easy to follow titles and geek out with me.
Embarrassing Places I've Biked To This Summer:
1. Dates. Sometimes downtown. Sometimes when it's 90 degrees outside. I like to give people a realistic first impression.
2. Rehearsal in the rain. Specifically tonight. Nothing screams "professional actress" like showing up soaked to the skin and having your sports bra soak through the sweat-shirt you thankfully thought to bring.
3. Bars. Biking TO the bar is not the problem.
4. My fingerprinting for my summer job. Only because I didn't realize they were located in the swankiest building downtown. I trudged in wearing shorts that can best be described as "swampy" and a real grody t-shirt. We've had a humid summer. And I have very little shame.
Though this kind of sounds nightmareish, I absolutely love biking everywhere. It's so much faster than CTA, it's great exercise, and it's free. And it's bad ass.
So bad ass that it has elevated my aggression levels dramatically. I think it's a cyclist thing, but I do whatever the hell I want. When you're biking somewhere, your job to get yourself there as fast as humanly possible. Bikes are faster than pedestrians and smaller than cars. In my mind, this gives me clearance to zip around traffic as I please. As long as I get my butt there in one piece, I'm good to go. Stopping at every stop sign and actually waiting at the light, HA. No. Yep, I'm that guy. A rolling lawsuit with no regard for vehicle laws or personal safety.
That must be frustrating for you and your air conditioned car. But you know what else is frustrating, literally everything and anything that stands in the way of my high speed tour de force.
Things that Piss me off about Biking Chicago:
1. Cars that Don't Signal. If I am about to go through an intersection and you decide to casually turn right without signaling, ya run me into a curb. Not only do you kill my momentum, but you might kill my body as well.
2. Cars that Hesitate. Yo, I know where I'm going. And if you are at an intersection, I will resentfully stop for you. And if you hesitate in taking your right of way, I will stare you down. If this causes you to hesitate further, I will cut you off.
3. CTA Busses. You know exactly what I'm talking about here. You pass the bus while it's at a stop. Then it passes you and stops 30 yards ahead of you. You pass the buss again. It passes you again. You try to lose it by buzzing through a red light but that mother trucker catches up with you. Or you go so fast that you catch up to the next one. And you thought having a car wiz by ya was bad? Try a bus whose main goal is to bottleneck you into a corner of bus, curb, and little old lady waiting with her fare. It's awful.
4. Ohio Street Beach. Yo downtown "exercisers," why must you walk 6 abreast on the downtown section of the Lake Shore Trail? It's an exercise trail! It's not a sidewalk, it's not a place for you to make out, it's NOT a place you should ever let go of your child's hand ever. It's a personal hell that I have to bike through (usually at something like 5mph). Make everyone's day a little easier, stay to the right, TAKE OUT YOUR HEADPHONES, and treat that thing like a highway.
5. Cars parked in the bike lane. One day I will just ram into your f*cking car. Mark my words.
6. Delivery trucks parked in the bike lane. This might do more damage to me than it does to the truck and I am absolutely sure that it will be worth it.
7. Construction IN THE BIKE LANE. Can we not just clear the bike lane? Because by the time I swerve around my 9th obstruction, I am filled with actual rage.
But this video makes it all ok. Mostly because I almost peed with laughter. Just skip to 1 minute. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bzE-IMaegzQ
8. Potholes. My bike doesn't have suspension. And my lady bits are not pleased with the road conditions. Here's lookin' at you Magnolia and Sheridan.
9. Car Doors. If you're not watching when you exit your vehicle, you will not only get run over by a bike, but you will send said cyclist flying through the air. It's a lose lose.
10. The Lack of Parking. I know no one can park cars in Chicago. But when you have no bike racks, I will tie my bike to a tree or a sign or a fence. And I will not pay whatever ticket you slap on my bike. Because ya know what's great about having a bike? No identifying information.
Other Chicago Bikers, do you feel me? Yeah. Yeah ya do.
But on a serious note, bikers, do your part here. My little manifesto is exaggerated. For the love of all things good in this world, don't listen to your ipod, bike in the street, have control of your bike before blowing through an intersection, and wear a helmet. Mine looks like a bright yellow pith helmet. What I'm saying here is that under no circumstance will you look worse than me :) Be Safe.
Uhmm I'm going to wrap this puppy up by highlighting 2 cycling events that I want everyone to know about.
1. Critical Mass. Thousands of bikers take over Chicago streets. 1st Friday of every month. And I always miss it. But I went once and it was my favorite ride ever.
2. Chicago World Naked Bike Ride. Critical Mass, naked. I was going to go this year but no one would go with me! While I totally understand the hesitation, let it be known that I am looking for a group of committed people who want to bike Chicago in very little clothing. Because this is not an opportunity one can just let pass by.
Well, short of writing a bike haiku, I'm pretty much done here.
On second thought, I really want to write a bike haiku:
My dear Diamondback,
Giver of ecstatic joy,
You make my heart smile.
Ok. This needs to stop. I have a pretty high threshold for embarrassment, but the haiku might have crossed a line. Enjoy your week friends. Go ride a bike.
Kait.
As if my previous posts haven't made this abundantly clear, I have developed an emotional connection to my bike akin to that of a couple celebrating 50 years of marriage. Never mind that I have referred to myself as "emotionally stunted," and "totally comfortable with being totally uncomfortable in all situations ever." I have a bike that I love. And who probably would love me back if ze had a functioning nervous system.
Yes, I did just address my bike with a gender neutral pronoun.
Now I have fancied myself a cyclist since fetus-hood, and my love of biking has only increased with age. When I was a youngin, my family went on annual trips to Kelly's Island to bike the whole thing all day and drink wine. I didn't drink wine, cause I was 5. Throughout middle and high school I would bike to school, the pool, work, BW. And one summer my friend and I biked the metroparks like twice a week at what felt like 20mph. He was in much better shape than I. But I liked hanging out with him, so I developed quads of steel and kept up.
This summer took my already unnatural love of biking to terrifying new levels. Specifically, May 8th. The day my CTA pass expired. That very day I was working at the Court Theatre on the south side of Chicago. Biked it. Took me 2 hours. While this was a tad ambitious, I loved it. What a better morning commute than a brisk buzz down the Lake Shore Trail? Since then, I have begun biking everywhere. Literally everywhere all the time. I arrive sweaty, exhausted, happy as a clam, and depending on the time of day, covered in dead bugs. (You know those swarms of gnats you walk through? Try it at 15mph.)
Really I just want to nerd out about biking. So enjoy the easy to follow titles and geek out with me.
Embarrassing Places I've Biked To This Summer:
1. Dates. Sometimes downtown. Sometimes when it's 90 degrees outside. I like to give people a realistic first impression.
2. Rehearsal in the rain. Specifically tonight. Nothing screams "professional actress" like showing up soaked to the skin and having your sports bra soak through the sweat-shirt you thankfully thought to bring.
3. Bars. Biking TO the bar is not the problem.
4. My fingerprinting for my summer job. Only because I didn't realize they were located in the swankiest building downtown. I trudged in wearing shorts that can best be described as "swampy" and a real grody t-shirt. We've had a humid summer. And I have very little shame.
Though this kind of sounds nightmareish, I absolutely love biking everywhere. It's so much faster than CTA, it's great exercise, and it's free. And it's bad ass.
So bad ass that it has elevated my aggression levels dramatically. I think it's a cyclist thing, but I do whatever the hell I want. When you're biking somewhere, your job to get yourself there as fast as humanly possible. Bikes are faster than pedestrians and smaller than cars. In my mind, this gives me clearance to zip around traffic as I please. As long as I get my butt there in one piece, I'm good to go. Stopping at every stop sign and actually waiting at the light, HA. No. Yep, I'm that guy. A rolling lawsuit with no regard for vehicle laws or personal safety.
That must be frustrating for you and your air conditioned car. But you know what else is frustrating, literally everything and anything that stands in the way of my high speed tour de force.
Things that Piss me off about Biking Chicago:
1. Cars that Don't Signal. If I am about to go through an intersection and you decide to casually turn right without signaling, ya run me into a curb. Not only do you kill my momentum, but you might kill my body as well.
2. Cars that Hesitate. Yo, I know where I'm going. And if you are at an intersection, I will resentfully stop for you. And if you hesitate in taking your right of way, I will stare you down. If this causes you to hesitate further, I will cut you off.
3. CTA Busses. You know exactly what I'm talking about here. You pass the bus while it's at a stop. Then it passes you and stops 30 yards ahead of you. You pass the buss again. It passes you again. You try to lose it by buzzing through a red light but that mother trucker catches up with you. Or you go so fast that you catch up to the next one. And you thought having a car wiz by ya was bad? Try a bus whose main goal is to bottleneck you into a corner of bus, curb, and little old lady waiting with her fare. It's awful.
4. Ohio Street Beach. Yo downtown "exercisers," why must you walk 6 abreast on the downtown section of the Lake Shore Trail? It's an exercise trail! It's not a sidewalk, it's not a place for you to make out, it's NOT a place you should ever let go of your child's hand ever. It's a personal hell that I have to bike through (usually at something like 5mph). Make everyone's day a little easier, stay to the right, TAKE OUT YOUR HEADPHONES, and treat that thing like a highway.
5. Cars parked in the bike lane. One day I will just ram into your f*cking car. Mark my words.
6. Delivery trucks parked in the bike lane. This might do more damage to me than it does to the truck and I am absolutely sure that it will be worth it.
7. Construction IN THE BIKE LANE. Can we not just clear the bike lane? Because by the time I swerve around my 9th obstruction, I am filled with actual rage.
But this video makes it all ok. Mostly because I almost peed with laughter. Just skip to 1 minute. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bzE-IMaegzQ
8. Potholes. My bike doesn't have suspension. And my lady bits are not pleased with the road conditions. Here's lookin' at you Magnolia and Sheridan.
9. Car Doors. If you're not watching when you exit your vehicle, you will not only get run over by a bike, but you will send said cyclist flying through the air. It's a lose lose.
10. The Lack of Parking. I know no one can park cars in Chicago. But when you have no bike racks, I will tie my bike to a tree or a sign or a fence. And I will not pay whatever ticket you slap on my bike. Because ya know what's great about having a bike? No identifying information.
Other Chicago Bikers, do you feel me? Yeah. Yeah ya do.
But on a serious note, bikers, do your part here. My little manifesto is exaggerated. For the love of all things good in this world, don't listen to your ipod, bike in the street, have control of your bike before blowing through an intersection, and wear a helmet. Mine looks like a bright yellow pith helmet. What I'm saying here is that under no circumstance will you look worse than me :) Be Safe.
Uhmm I'm going to wrap this puppy up by highlighting 2 cycling events that I want everyone to know about.
1. Critical Mass. Thousands of bikers take over Chicago streets. 1st Friday of every month. And I always miss it. But I went once and it was my favorite ride ever.
2. Chicago World Naked Bike Ride. Critical Mass, naked. I was going to go this year but no one would go with me! While I totally understand the hesitation, let it be known that I am looking for a group of committed people who want to bike Chicago in very little clothing. Because this is not an opportunity one can just let pass by.
Well, short of writing a bike haiku, I'm pretty much done here.
On second thought, I really want to write a bike haiku:
My dear Diamondback,
Giver of ecstatic joy,
You make my heart smile.
Ok. This needs to stop. I have a pretty high threshold for embarrassment, but the haiku might have crossed a line. Enjoy your week friends. Go ride a bike.
Kait.
Saturday, July 13, 2013
Acne.
Yo.
I'm going to complain about acne. And it's going to be gross. Not witty, not entertaining, Not even worth reading.
You've been warned.
So you know how every "normal" human starts getting zits around 13 or 14 and the developmental science literature tells you that they're gone by your "late teens?" Yeah, so I have pimples in my third grade school picture, I turn 22 this week and I am still covered in zits.
Nay, craters.
Except that I'm not joking. I had to excavate a cyst and it literally left a bruise, YES a bruise, the size of my thumbprint on my face. I have 4 more massive zits to wash, scrape, boil, and sanitize. I will look like I got in a bar fight by the time this whole process is done. And you know what? They. Will. Come. Back.
Make all the assumptions you want lovely skinned people. I wash my face 3 to 4 times a day, I don't touch my face, I ALWAYS have some sort of chemical on it. Yes, I've tried toothpaste, peroxide, Benzol peroxide, alcohol, every face wash ever invented ever, and as of three days ago, Proactive.
What I'm saying here is that I need to get my shit together and see a dermatologist. The typical visit involves me sitting in their room for a half hour while they look at my face. Then they tell me that I have acne.
WAIT WHAT? That's what that is? MIND IS BLOWN.
Then they tell me that I have lots of scars.
Really? Haven't noticed.
Then they tell me that half the zits on my face will leave scars.
Good. Great. Love it.
Now I can eat my words a little and admit that generally whatever concoction of goo they tell me to smear all over my face usually works pretty well.
But I'm still complaining tonight. Because my face hurts and looks like it got hit by a truck. Literally.
You're welcome.
Kait
I'm going to complain about acne. And it's going to be gross. Not witty, not entertaining, Not even worth reading.
You've been warned.
So you know how every "normal" human starts getting zits around 13 or 14 and the developmental science literature tells you that they're gone by your "late teens?" Yeah, so I have pimples in my third grade school picture, I turn 22 this week and I am still covered in zits.
Nay, craters.
Except that I'm not joking. I had to excavate a cyst and it literally left a bruise, YES a bruise, the size of my thumbprint on my face. I have 4 more massive zits to wash, scrape, boil, and sanitize. I will look like I got in a bar fight by the time this whole process is done. And you know what? They. Will. Come. Back.
Make all the assumptions you want lovely skinned people. I wash my face 3 to 4 times a day, I don't touch my face, I ALWAYS have some sort of chemical on it. Yes, I've tried toothpaste, peroxide, Benzol peroxide, alcohol, every face wash ever invented ever, and as of three days ago, Proactive.
What I'm saying here is that I need to get my shit together and see a dermatologist. The typical visit involves me sitting in their room for a half hour while they look at my face. Then they tell me that I have acne.
WAIT WHAT? That's what that is? MIND IS BLOWN.
Then they tell me that I have lots of scars.
Really? Haven't noticed.
Then they tell me that half the zits on my face will leave scars.
Good. Great. Love it.
Now I can eat my words a little and admit that generally whatever concoction of goo they tell me to smear all over my face usually works pretty well.
But I'm still complaining tonight. Because my face hurts and looks like it got hit by a truck. Literally.
You're welcome.
Kait
Saturday, July 6, 2013
Pride! The Parade, The Cookout, The Finale
Hello!
Before we get into the nitty gritty of Pride, I'm gonna make a quick note up here. I'm talking a whole lot about the LGBTQIA community in this blog. And LGBTQIA is a whole lotta alphabet soup to write over and over. So I'm going to define it once for you and then refer to it using the umbrella term, “gay.” Bisexuals, Pansexuals, *Trans folks I see you! And I'm talking to you! But for the sake of word economics, I'm gonna call ya gay.
L-Lesbian
G-Gay
B-Bisexual/Pansexual (why is there no P in this thing yet? Come on now)
T- Transgender
Q-Queer
I-Intersex
A-Asexual/Alli
Welcome to: Pride, Post Mortem Subtitle: The Last of the Pride Month Blogs
This weekend I attended my first Chicago Pride Parade, and let me tell you, it did not disappoint. I started the day off at 10 am with jello shots. Because cereal, toothpaste, and vodka is the breakfast of (day drinking) champions. Then, slowly but surely, the gay powerhouse of friends began to assemble in our living room to head down to the parade together. I always feel squeamish about putting people's names on my blog without asking permission, So I'm going to give everyone super-hero alter ego names and actual descriptions just so you get a sense of the lovely people I was surrounded by all day. By super-hero I most nearly mean, mythical creature names.
1. Wonder Woman: My lovely roommate whose knowledge of lesbian pop culture rivals the writers for afterellen. Not to mention her puns and endless “wit” (*sarcasm). Also, she can drink us all under the table. And she did.
2. Batman and Robin: My dear friend from home and her girlfriend stayed with us this weekend! I loved having them over and kind of maybe think they need to move to Chicago so we could hang out all the time. Hint. Hint.
3. Captain America: He's political, he's Catholic, he's a super gay activist, and he's in love with Austria. The whole. Damn. Country. Also, he looked sexy in his tank top. Very sexy.
4. Cat Woman: Because I only know so many super-hero's. So it's gonna get dicey. But she's awesome! Seriously delightfully happy human to spend the parade with. And she's from P-town! Represent!
5. Harry Potter and Company: Half the Loyola Quidditch team, wrangled skillfully by Wonder Woman, joined us. Super fun group of friends, allies, gays, and the like.
6. Tinkerbell: She's super tiny and super cute and super crafty with her DIY Pride t-shirt. And I dragged her to an overwhelming number of events. Really delighted that I got to spend Pride with her.
7. The Flash: Girl's a champ. Found us at Pride after a crazy night out on the town. Then went on a run the next day. One of my favorite people ever.
So there's the crew. The parade was so much fun. It lasted nearly 4 hours and I enjoyed every minute of it. Pride gets some backlash within the gay community for being commercialized, not properly representing the gay community and giving people who are not good allies a platform to play activist for an afternoon. That's all true. But, like any event with millions of diverse people, Pride is what you make it. I surrounded myself with people that are out and active on a day to day basis to increase visibility and combat homophobia. Not to mention, they are so fun and cool that they deserve super-hero names. Doesn't get much better than that.
But Pride is significant as an event in and of itself. Sure, it's not a grassroots movement, but it is so empowering to be around that many people celebrating the gay community. Also, not to downplay the significance of our allies, but it's super cool to have that many gay people at one event. Every other day of the year we are the minority in most workplaces, classrooms, social settings, what have you. To be at an event with thousands of people who share a piece of your story really makes you feel accepted.
It's something I didn't fully realize until I came out more, but it takes a tough skin to live openly. Sometimes I have days when I'm feeling super insecure and I feel like everyone knows this super private, potentially dangerous, sometimes controversial fact about me. I live in Chicago, one of the gay-friendliest cities on the map, so I don't actually have much to worry about, but if I can feel insecure in a huge metropolitan hub, I can't imagine how the gay people in more conservative or rural areas must feel. Events like Pride create miles of safe space where gay people can express their gender regardless of their sex, be openly affectionate with someone of the same sex, and not have to worry about getting sideways glances. Even if your town doesn't have a big gay scene, I hope that you can celebrate with us in spirit and that you feel a little more accepted.
Regardless of your opinions towards same sex relationships and non-normative gender identities, we exist. And we are not going away. We need events like Pride and designated gay places like bars and community centers to create a safe space for us to be comfortable live openly.
*And that concludes our “feelings parade” section of this blog.
Speaking of acceptance, pride is the perfect place to just unleash all of your gay on the world with no shame. I mean, people show up to this thing in tutus, underpants, fishnets, rainbows everywhere, you name it. I took this as an opportunity to fulfill every gay stereotype on the planet. By the end of the night my outfit was down to rainbow earrings, a rainbow ring, Converse, flannel, beads, and a rainbow tie. I had actual clothes on as well, don't think I went naked...it was too cold this year... Anyway. It got to the point where Captain America reined me in before leaving for my friend's Pride BBQ. Lost the tie. But still looked flaming, fear not.
Literally, everyone can get something out of pride. Get ready for some stereotypes up in here.
Straight ladies: My “men with rock hard abs dancing around in their underwear” quota was filled for the next ten years in one day. And none of them will hit on you. Also, glitter and rainbows.
Straight men: Beer and Lesbians.
Lesbians: Beer and Lesbians.
Gay Men: Brittany Spears. Every other song. The other songs were Beyonce.
I hope I've offended everyone. I personally don't care for beer and I really enjoyed the glitter and rainbows. And Beyonce. You do you.
Well I think that about wraps it up for me. Pride was followed by one of the most fun cookouts I've been to in a while. I would write about it but this post it already hella long, so I'm gonna hold off. But gentlemen, you know who you are, if you're reading this, well done. Best cooking I've had in a loooong time.
SHIT I forgot to talk about Girl on Girl Feminist Radio! Balls. Ok. Next time. This was way too good to go unwritten about. They have a segment called Clam Jams. I mean, come on now. Literally the greatest thing ever.
Hope ya'll had a wonderful pride weekend. And a relatively painless hungover Monday.
Kait
Thursday, June 27, 2013
The Evolution of my Undying Love for Tegan and Sara
HEY!
Guys. There are TWO BLOGS today. I'm freakin out. Two of them. This is mostly due to the fact that my project at work this week has been to alphabetize and organize files. So I've had a whole lot of time to think up interesting things to write about!
Here's something we haven't done lately
Quote Of The Day! (obviously from the depths of my filing) "D...da..still aaaa...more a's..Da OH De...good de de de de de de de DI! diiiii. i. iiiiiii. dib. dic...dick...DICK lolololololololol I'm a fourteen year old boy...dick"
I may or may not have lost my mind.
Anyway, filing was super great. No joke, I love organizing stuff and it wasn't bad to work alone for a few days. Another perk of filing is that I got to listen to music all day long! You can probably guess by the title where this is going.
The Evolution of my Undying Love for Tegan and Sara.
Part I: Humble Beginnings.
Early sophomore year of college, I was just starting to face up to the fact that maybe I was sort of kind of into girls. My roommate introduced me to afterellen.com, a wonderful pop culture site for gay ladies. As a was perusing the various articles and conversation threads I kept coming across the band Tegan and Sara. So I googled them and found this:
Guys. There are TWO BLOGS today. I'm freakin out. Two of them. This is mostly due to the fact that my project at work this week has been to alphabetize and organize files. So I've had a whole lot of time to think up interesting things to write about!
Here's something we haven't done lately
Quote Of The Day! (obviously from the depths of my filing) "D...da..still aaaa...more a's..Da OH De...good de de de de de de de DI! diiiii. i. iiiiiii. dib. dic...dick...DICK lolololololololol I'm a fourteen year old boy...dick"
I may or may not have lost my mind.
Anyway, filing was super great. No joke, I love organizing stuff and it wasn't bad to work alone for a few days. Another perk of filing is that I got to listen to music all day long! You can probably guess by the title where this is going.
The Evolution of my Undying Love for Tegan and Sara.
Part I: Humble Beginnings.
Early sophomore year of college, I was just starting to face up to the fact that maybe I was sort of kind of into girls. My roommate introduced me to afterellen.com, a wonderful pop culture site for gay ladies. As a was perusing the various articles and conversation threads I kept coming across the band Tegan and Sara. So I googled them and found this:
Inner monologue: "Well...I'm definitely gay."
Part 2: Youtube Stalking
Lesbihonest. You can't look at that picture and then not look them up on youtube. What I found did not disappoint. When they started giving concerts, they didn't have enough material to fill a set. So they incorporated adorable witty banter. And it stuck. Let me tell you, it's a treat. They are so smart, and witty, and funny. Sara does book reviews. I mean come on. What began as an innocent google pretty quickly grew to the initial flames of fan-girl-dom.
Part 3: Music.
I'm not going to lie to you. This is kindof hard for me to write. But when I first listened to their music, I was like, "what is this? Their voices sound like dying puppies." But God, I just really love them. This put me in a real moral pickle of trying to rationalize how to be a Tegan and Sara fan without actually liking their music. But fear not. I resolved it.
Part 4: Acoustic 19.
I grappled for weeks with the fact that I was pseudo objectifying these artists by crushing so hard on them but dismissing their music. As an artist myself I felt particularly guilty. Then it happened. One of my friends posted the following link to facebook:
I was neck deep into my Mumford phase at the time and this just struck a chord (pun) with me. I love this song and I totally connected to it and I may or may not have had like a super happy cry in my bed whilst listening to it.
Anyway.
This lead to my googling acoustic versions of all their songs. I fell in love with the lyrics and artistry of everything I listened to. With time, their regular, un-acoustic sound became more appealing.
The obsession was justified. And this is where things get good.
Part 5: Things Get Good.
As previously mentioned, my dear friend Sara has all of Tegan and Sara's music. And she is the greatest person ever because she shared it with me. The library helped out here too. There was a tiny moment of bad feelings for not actually paying for their music, but I am college poor. When I have money, I will actually see them in concert, purchase their albums, and support their art.
Part 6: Running.
So this summer I was jobless for like a month. Which if you read my previous blogs, mostly consisted of me running and biking. Guess what became my new running song? The Con. The whole album. In love. I could relate to all of their songs and never got tired of listening to them. I listened to it today. While filing. Rocked out pretty hard.
Part 7: The Con.
So take a tiny hop backwards chronologically. When I got The Con album from the library it came with an extra disk. A disk containing "The Con, The Documentary." Hold. The. Phone. This has combined so many of my favorite things into one shiny dvd.
Documentary, Check
Music, Check
Witty Banter, Check
Trivia, Check
Their adorableness for 2 hours. Check
Need I say more?
Part 8: The Soon to be Viewed Documentary "Get Along."
That's right. They made another documentary. And I will find it. And I will watch it. Probably ten to fifteen times. Maybe within the same 24 hours. Whose to say.
The Moment I Chose to Be Gay
Hi All.
So this whole gay rights thing. What? DOMA and prop8? I mean, all those homos choose to be gay just to get attention right?
Oops! You got us!
Here's all the reasons I chose to be gay:
1) I wasn't having much luck finding a dude to date. I mean they only make up 50% of the population. So instead I thought to myself, lets go for the 1% of women who identify as lesbians. Challenge accepted.
2) As a socially anxious, introverted person, the lesbian dating pool is perfect for me. Culturally, in heterosexual pairings the men do all the initiating. Not here! I have to learn how to make moves! How great! I'm super good at it to... it's not even the most uncomfortable thing I've ever put myself and another human through. Definitely not.
3) Having kids the natural way is too simple. And inexpensive. I would much rather throw down thousands of dollars to have sperm shot up my lady bits than just take a romp in the sack.
4) Did I mention paperwork? Adoption social services? Love that shit.
5) Did you know that 90% of what girls talk about is boys? (85% of what boys talk about is girls in case anyone was wondering) Well I love having little to nothing to contribute to 90% of conversations. It's nice just to sit alone with my thoughts.
6) Did you realize how many religions absolutely hate the homosexuals? It's nuts! Well trust me, it pleases me so much to anger and terrify billions of otherwise friendly, peace loving church goers. I feel so special when they scream slurs at me through their megaphones. Truly touching.
7) If you know me at all, you know how much I love to tell everyone my private business. I also love being the center of attention and dropping potentially huge news bombs on people. You know the perfect way to grab the attention of a room? Tell um your gay. It's so great.
8) It's really exhilarating knowing that I held jobs in states where I could actually be fired for being gay. Feels like a high stakes spy movie.
9) I'm really non-conformist. So I chopped off all my hair and started wearing more flannel. Now I fit the stereotypes of every other gay lady on the planet. Mission accomplished.
10) Hundreds of gay teens get kicked out of their parents houses when they come out. They are rejected by their families, friends, sometimes whole communities. Can you think of a better way to just start over! Literally being homeless for a few months. That sounds great. Unfortunately, my parents and most of my friends were totally supportive. What a drag.
Well, there you have it. Convinced? If you want to give it a try, just fake it till ya make it. Never mind that you're not in love and don't have feelings for the people you're with and are basically going into their private squares with no motivation. That's not unfair to them at all. And think of all the attention you'll garner. Definitely worth it.
Kait
*DISCLAIMER*
I hate disclaimers because they stomp all over the sarcasm that is absolutely oozing from this post. But I want to be very very clear. You know how you didn't choose to be straight? No one chooses to be gay. Also, I realize that this might present a grim view of the gay community. Or maybe it looks like I am having a hell of a time dealing with it. It's a joke guys. I'm actually super happy in LGBTQA culture. And while I still feel like a fish out of water when it comes to dating, I have had nothing but good experiences, understanding women, and super fun dates. Winning.
So this whole gay rights thing. What? DOMA and prop8? I mean, all those homos choose to be gay just to get attention right?
Oops! You got us!
Here's all the reasons I chose to be gay:
1) I wasn't having much luck finding a dude to date. I mean they only make up 50% of the population. So instead I thought to myself, lets go for the 1% of women who identify as lesbians. Challenge accepted.
2) As a socially anxious, introverted person, the lesbian dating pool is perfect for me. Culturally, in heterosexual pairings the men do all the initiating. Not here! I have to learn how to make moves! How great! I'm super good at it to... it's not even the most uncomfortable thing I've ever put myself and another human through. Definitely not.
3) Having kids the natural way is too simple. And inexpensive. I would much rather throw down thousands of dollars to have sperm shot up my lady bits than just take a romp in the sack.
4) Did I mention paperwork? Adoption social services? Love that shit.
5) Did you know that 90% of what girls talk about is boys? (85% of what boys talk about is girls in case anyone was wondering) Well I love having little to nothing to contribute to 90% of conversations. It's nice just to sit alone with my thoughts.
6) Did you realize how many religions absolutely hate the homosexuals? It's nuts! Well trust me, it pleases me so much to anger and terrify billions of otherwise friendly, peace loving church goers. I feel so special when they scream slurs at me through their megaphones. Truly touching.
7) If you know me at all, you know how much I love to tell everyone my private business. I also love being the center of attention and dropping potentially huge news bombs on people. You know the perfect way to grab the attention of a room? Tell um your gay. It's so great.
8) It's really exhilarating knowing that I held jobs in states where I could actually be fired for being gay. Feels like a high stakes spy movie.
9) I'm really non-conformist. So I chopped off all my hair and started wearing more flannel. Now I fit the stereotypes of every other gay lady on the planet. Mission accomplished.
10) Hundreds of gay teens get kicked out of their parents houses when they come out. They are rejected by their families, friends, sometimes whole communities. Can you think of a better way to just start over! Literally being homeless for a few months. That sounds great. Unfortunately, my parents and most of my friends were totally supportive. What a drag.
Well, there you have it. Convinced? If you want to give it a try, just fake it till ya make it. Never mind that you're not in love and don't have feelings for the people you're with and are basically going into their private squares with no motivation. That's not unfair to them at all. And think of all the attention you'll garner. Definitely worth it.
Kait
*DISCLAIMER*
I hate disclaimers because they stomp all over the sarcasm that is absolutely oozing from this post. But I want to be very very clear. You know how you didn't choose to be straight? No one chooses to be gay. Also, I realize that this might present a grim view of the gay community. Or maybe it looks like I am having a hell of a time dealing with it. It's a joke guys. I'm actually super happy in LGBTQA culture. And while I still feel like a fish out of water when it comes to dating, I have had nothing but good experiences, understanding women, and super fun dates. Winning.
Sunday, June 23, 2013
Intro to Homosexuality
Alright then.
So every time I log onto my computer, I have these little pings of guilt for not writing any pride blogs. I see that I am one day closer to the end of pride month and my blog has yet to reflect the insane amount of gay stuff I have done in the past few weeks.
To name a few:
1) I have nearly all of Tegan and Sara's albums and have listened to them top to bottom. It's been my running soundtrack. Thus my runs have been extra angsty this month. Thank you Sara Augustinas for facilitating this.
2) Went to Pride Fest. Saw some great drag. Enjoyed myself immensely.
3) Priced out rainbow suspenders.
4) Watched the first 3 episodes of "The Fosters" and then read the recaps on afterellen.
5) Realized that I have rehearsal during the parade. Wept. Quickly formulated a plan to haul ass from Willmette to Boystown decked out in said suspenders in under an hour to catch the tail end of the parade. Or at least the after party.
So writing this blog kinda feels like I'm beating a dead horse. Not to mention, there are so many LGBTQIA (it's a mouthful, I know, but I'm gonna keep using it.) resources out there that basically share my perspective. Really I'm trying to debate how best to blog about this without repeating what you can read by simply googling "LGBTQIA."
So I'm going to take the personal angle on this first one. I say first because I want to write more about LGBTQIA specific issues, but I feel like I should get everyone on the same page first. I think the best way to do this is to tell some silly coming out stories. With a more serious wrap up. So if nothing more, skip the funny stuff and read my last paragraph. Cool? Cool.
Leggo.
Kaitlyn Stumbles Out of the Closet and Tells You all the Faux Pas that Followed.
1. Come on Already. This is definitely my preferred method of alerting people that I'm into girls. The key to this one was to drop as many hints as you possible can without actually coming out and saying you're gay. For example, I made it a habit of selecting the gayest looking outfits, hairstyles, conversation topics, etc to bring to every family function. I have like a 6 for 7 stereotype ratio that must be filled. If a Christmas spent in combat boots, flannel, spiked hair, impractically short nails doesn't scream "RAINBOW" I don't know what does.
2. Kay Byeeeeeeeee. Another wimpy way to come out of the closet. Did this one with my parents. I was in town for a weekend. Told um Sunday night 4 hours before my bus left. They, of course, were totally fine with it. Nothing says, "I'm comfortable with my sexuality" like throwing it at someone and running five hours away :)
3. Party Foul. This is my second favorite story. I was at a party with some coworkers last summer, most of whom I was not out to. One particularly attractive gentleman was pretty drunk and started hitting on me. I had just closed a run of CATS and was in no mood to flirt so when asked if he could kiss me instead of saying, "Nope" or "don't feel like it" or "too tired" I went for "I'm gay." Shouted it nice and loud above the music. As luck would have it, mili-seconds before the words left my mouth the song ended and it got nice and quiet. Really this should not have been as embarrassing as it was for me, but the coincidence was just too much.
4. The Greatest Moment of My Life. This is my actual favorite story. Came out to one of my closest college friends literally seconds after she came out to me. I think time actually slowed down. We spent the next two hours discussing crushes, coming out stories, and how thrilled we were that we had someone else going through the same stuff.
5. YOU'RE WHAT? I hate this so much. And I'm sure I've done this to other people. And I apologize. But when someone comes out to you and you look at them like they've suddenly sprouted another head, it's really awkward.
6. 20 Questions. I get that gay stuff is sometimes unfamiliar to people. I was completely uninformed until I started doing some research a few years ago. So it's normal to have questions. It's not normal to ask personal questions. Questions are great when appropriate. I love answering questions about gender, orientation, community, sex stuff, whatever. But for the love of God don't ask me about my personal sexual experiences if you just met me. I mean, come on now. When is that ever appropriate. Literally never.
Ok here's The Takeaway. In my experience, the best people to come out to (also the best allies) are people who have gay friends. Close. Gay. Friends. (did you pick up the emphasis there?) Both men and women. It's 2013, you will not be publicly stoned for being a straight person in a gay establishment. You don't know everything about the gay community if you ate lunch last week with that lesbian in your office or you went shopping with your gay best friend (I'm sorry, I almost gagged on the stereotype but I'm trying to prove a point). If we're going to stop gay bullying, transphobia, marriage inequality, etc, everyone needs to get more informed. I know it's asking a lot, but acceptance and tolerance are not enough. Not enough to make actual change anyway. I think friendship is the way in here. Make some gay friends. *Note, not token gay friends, actual friends.
Pride is this weekend guys. Wink wink nudge nudge.
With that, Happy Pride! Wish me luck in my biking like 15 miles at top speed to catch the parade! I hope you all celebrate too.
Kait
So every time I log onto my computer, I have these little pings of guilt for not writing any pride blogs. I see that I am one day closer to the end of pride month and my blog has yet to reflect the insane amount of gay stuff I have done in the past few weeks.
To name a few:
1) I have nearly all of Tegan and Sara's albums and have listened to them top to bottom. It's been my running soundtrack. Thus my runs have been extra angsty this month. Thank you Sara Augustinas for facilitating this.
2) Went to Pride Fest. Saw some great drag. Enjoyed myself immensely.
3) Priced out rainbow suspenders.
4) Watched the first 3 episodes of "The Fosters" and then read the recaps on afterellen.
5) Realized that I have rehearsal during the parade. Wept. Quickly formulated a plan to haul ass from Willmette to Boystown decked out in said suspenders in under an hour to catch the tail end of the parade. Or at least the after party.
So writing this blog kinda feels like I'm beating a dead horse. Not to mention, there are so many LGBTQIA (it's a mouthful, I know, but I'm gonna keep using it.) resources out there that basically share my perspective. Really I'm trying to debate how best to blog about this without repeating what you can read by simply googling "LGBTQIA."
So I'm going to take the personal angle on this first one. I say first because I want to write more about LGBTQIA specific issues, but I feel like I should get everyone on the same page first. I think the best way to do this is to tell some silly coming out stories. With a more serious wrap up. So if nothing more, skip the funny stuff and read my last paragraph. Cool? Cool.
Leggo.
Kaitlyn Stumbles Out of the Closet and Tells You all the Faux Pas that Followed.
1. Come on Already. This is definitely my preferred method of alerting people that I'm into girls. The key to this one was to drop as many hints as you possible can without actually coming out and saying you're gay. For example, I made it a habit of selecting the gayest looking outfits, hairstyles, conversation topics, etc to bring to every family function. I have like a 6 for 7 stereotype ratio that must be filled. If a Christmas spent in combat boots, flannel, spiked hair, impractically short nails doesn't scream "RAINBOW" I don't know what does.
2. Kay Byeeeeeeeee. Another wimpy way to come out of the closet. Did this one with my parents. I was in town for a weekend. Told um Sunday night 4 hours before my bus left. They, of course, were totally fine with it. Nothing says, "I'm comfortable with my sexuality" like throwing it at someone and running five hours away :)
3. Party Foul. This is my second favorite story. I was at a party with some coworkers last summer, most of whom I was not out to. One particularly attractive gentleman was pretty drunk and started hitting on me. I had just closed a run of CATS and was in no mood to flirt so when asked if he could kiss me instead of saying, "Nope" or "don't feel like it" or "too tired" I went for "I'm gay." Shouted it nice and loud above the music. As luck would have it, mili-seconds before the words left my mouth the song ended and it got nice and quiet. Really this should not have been as embarrassing as it was for me, but the coincidence was just too much.
4. The Greatest Moment of My Life. This is my actual favorite story. Came out to one of my closest college friends literally seconds after she came out to me. I think time actually slowed down. We spent the next two hours discussing crushes, coming out stories, and how thrilled we were that we had someone else going through the same stuff.
5. YOU'RE WHAT? I hate this so much. And I'm sure I've done this to other people. And I apologize. But when someone comes out to you and you look at them like they've suddenly sprouted another head, it's really awkward.
6. 20 Questions. I get that gay stuff is sometimes unfamiliar to people. I was completely uninformed until I started doing some research a few years ago. So it's normal to have questions. It's not normal to ask personal questions. Questions are great when appropriate. I love answering questions about gender, orientation, community, sex stuff, whatever. But for the love of God don't ask me about my personal sexual experiences if you just met me. I mean, come on now. When is that ever appropriate. Literally never.
Ok here's The Takeaway. In my experience, the best people to come out to (also the best allies) are people who have gay friends. Close. Gay. Friends. (did you pick up the emphasis there?) Both men and women. It's 2013, you will not be publicly stoned for being a straight person in a gay establishment. You don't know everything about the gay community if you ate lunch last week with that lesbian in your office or you went shopping with your gay best friend (I'm sorry, I almost gagged on the stereotype but I'm trying to prove a point). If we're going to stop gay bullying, transphobia, marriage inequality, etc, everyone needs to get more informed. I know it's asking a lot, but acceptance and tolerance are not enough. Not enough to make actual change anyway. I think friendship is the way in here. Make some gay friends. *Note, not token gay friends, actual friends.
Pride is this weekend guys. Wink wink nudge nudge.
With that, Happy Pride! Wish me luck in my biking like 15 miles at top speed to catch the parade! I hope you all celebrate too.
Kait
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Not. Sleeping.
Hello. Kaitlyn reporting for duty from a delusional 12:59 in the am of tomorrow.
Quote of the day: "This is a stupid idea, Mt. Dew at 10pm... gonna drink it anyway."
AND HERE WE ARE. Hello 1am. I would really love to sleep. But I am way too awake for that. So instead, I'm writing. Actually, this one is really your loss because I'm not a "well rested" awake, I'm a chemically awake. So my brain isn't actually functioning high enough to compose anything worth reading, but it's way too strung out to sleep.
Ugh. I shouldn't even publish this, but I think it's going to happen.
So. Here is a list of my activities and musings I've had whilst trying to get my brain to chill out long enough for me to slip into unconsciousness.
Butter. Actually, this was a pre "I should go to bed" activity. My roommate and I watched this movie called "Butter." And it is awesome. It's literally a parody comedy about a butter carving contest. Also Olivia Wilde plays a hooker. So there's that.
Hunger Games. I never have time to read. Now I do. So I've been reading the Hunger Games series. I recommend it. On the second book. So good. Read that for an hour or so.
Sexual Intelligence. The title of an awful sexumentary I "watched" on hulu. By "watched" I mean skipped around because it was uncomfortable and hosted by someone who was apparently on Sex and the City. Never liked the show. That's a lie, never watched the show. But watched the movies. And hated them passionately. And vocally.
Evangelism. This is a non-sequitor after my Hunger Games reading. I went into my purse to get something to spit my gum into and came across what I can only describe as a bible spark note that I received from an angry man with a mean sign on Halstead a few weeks ago. This got me thinking about Evangelical Christianity. As someone who has not been saved, I have lots of questions on the matter. Like how can you be so sure? And why would God only save the western Christians? What about the Native Americans? So many of my ideas about spirituality come from Native American stories my parents read to me when I was little. This doesn't make me wrong. or right. But it does make me angry that this notion of being saved is not accessible to everyone. Like why would God try to save the entire world, but leave off a whole continent that no one knew existed? Also, are there any people who have been "Saved" and then...un-saved? Is that a thing? Do they just stop "feelin' it?" Are there people who try really really really hard to be saved but it just never happens for them? Or do they fake it? I could see someone faking it or convincing themselves they'd been saved when God was really just like, "nope, haven't figured it out yet..try harder." Is the nature of being saved an actual thing or is it just a psychological state? Are certain people pre-disposed to being saved? Does it run in families? Is it genetic? Or is it more of a "nurture" thing? Is it appropriate to ask people about this very personal, profound spiritual experience? I don't want to offend anyone but I'm so curious as to what it's all about.
I don't want that paragraph to attach any connotations to Christians. And I'm sorry if this is reading one way or another. It just blows my mind that there's a group of people who have all shared this religious experience. I just want to know way more about it. Like I want to know everything there is to know about Christianity.
Maybe I should read the bible. I just felt entire congregations of people's eye's roll. Don't judge me till you've read my book of Native American creation stories. Then we can talk.
Gay Stuff. Mostly because this is generally where my brain goes after mulling over Christianity. Also because the guy that gave me the sparknotes bible was hot and bothered about the gays on Halstead. Most of this concerns what I want to blog about for pride month. Here's my ideas:
A) The exclusivity of (as I've deemed it) the "Queer Vocabulary." Why I love it and hate it.
B) The "Second Puberty" phenomenon.
C) Feminism. Whatever that means.
D) How angry I am at gay people when they hate Christians, and how angry I get at Christians when they hate gay people. Or don't support gay marriage in the legal sense. Legal sense. Separation of church and state. I can't make a coherent argument for it now, but sometime this month I will.
The Pride!!! Cause I'm seeing it tomorrow. And I've heard it's really intense. And I love really intense theatre.
How psyched I am to go home this weekend. Cause I haven't seen my extended fam in a few months. And it's due time. Also, to run with my dad and recap the Tony's with my mom. And to see my friends. Cause I miss them.
Nervous. This is just what happens when I know I should be asleep but I can't sleep.
Blogging! "I am super bored, and super want to be tired, and feel like writing. But nothing of actual substance, just thoughts." - Kaitlyn at approx 12:57am.
And here we are. I have produced possibly the most worthless blog entry in the history of the world? And that's really saying something because this is the internet, and there is some awful stuff out there.
uh alright. I'm sorry about the shoddy quality of my recent blogs. I'm 99% sure that my next entry will be my queer vocab blog. And that will be good. And worth reading. Bare with me. Or is it Bear with me? No, bear with me would be like telling someone to be a bear and be with me. Nope, just googled it, it's bear with me. Bare with me would be an invitation to take your clothes off.
I mean, we could do that too.
Good God. If this shows up when people google me, I will be really sad.
Ok. I should try to sleep. Better blog soon. I promise. I'm organizing my thoughts on the queer vocab. Stay tuned.
Kait.
Quote of the day: "This is a stupid idea, Mt. Dew at 10pm... gonna drink it anyway."
AND HERE WE ARE. Hello 1am. I would really love to sleep. But I am way too awake for that. So instead, I'm writing. Actually, this one is really your loss because I'm not a "well rested" awake, I'm a chemically awake. So my brain isn't actually functioning high enough to compose anything worth reading, but it's way too strung out to sleep.
Ugh. I shouldn't even publish this, but I think it's going to happen.
So. Here is a list of my activities and musings I've had whilst trying to get my brain to chill out long enough for me to slip into unconsciousness.
Butter. Actually, this was a pre "I should go to bed" activity. My roommate and I watched this movie called "Butter." And it is awesome. It's literally a parody comedy about a butter carving contest. Also Olivia Wilde plays a hooker. So there's that.
Hunger Games. I never have time to read. Now I do. So I've been reading the Hunger Games series. I recommend it. On the second book. So good. Read that for an hour or so.
Sexual Intelligence. The title of an awful sexumentary I "watched" on hulu. By "watched" I mean skipped around because it was uncomfortable and hosted by someone who was apparently on Sex and the City. Never liked the show. That's a lie, never watched the show. But watched the movies. And hated them passionately. And vocally.
Evangelism. This is a non-sequitor after my Hunger Games reading. I went into my purse to get something to spit my gum into and came across what I can only describe as a bible spark note that I received from an angry man with a mean sign on Halstead a few weeks ago. This got me thinking about Evangelical Christianity. As someone who has not been saved, I have lots of questions on the matter. Like how can you be so sure? And why would God only save the western Christians? What about the Native Americans? So many of my ideas about spirituality come from Native American stories my parents read to me when I was little. This doesn't make me wrong. or right. But it does make me angry that this notion of being saved is not accessible to everyone. Like why would God try to save the entire world, but leave off a whole continent that no one knew existed? Also, are there any people who have been "Saved" and then...un-saved? Is that a thing? Do they just stop "feelin' it?" Are there people who try really really really hard to be saved but it just never happens for them? Or do they fake it? I could see someone faking it or convincing themselves they'd been saved when God was really just like, "nope, haven't figured it out yet..try harder." Is the nature of being saved an actual thing or is it just a psychological state? Are certain people pre-disposed to being saved? Does it run in families? Is it genetic? Or is it more of a "nurture" thing? Is it appropriate to ask people about this very personal, profound spiritual experience? I don't want to offend anyone but I'm so curious as to what it's all about.
I don't want that paragraph to attach any connotations to Christians. And I'm sorry if this is reading one way or another. It just blows my mind that there's a group of people who have all shared this religious experience. I just want to know way more about it. Like I want to know everything there is to know about Christianity.
Maybe I should read the bible. I just felt entire congregations of people's eye's roll. Don't judge me till you've read my book of Native American creation stories. Then we can talk.
Gay Stuff. Mostly because this is generally where my brain goes after mulling over Christianity. Also because the guy that gave me the sparknotes bible was hot and bothered about the gays on Halstead. Most of this concerns what I want to blog about for pride month. Here's my ideas:
A) The exclusivity of (as I've deemed it) the "Queer Vocabulary." Why I love it and hate it.
B) The "Second Puberty" phenomenon.
C) Feminism. Whatever that means.
D) How angry I am at gay people when they hate Christians, and how angry I get at Christians when they hate gay people. Or don't support gay marriage in the legal sense. Legal sense. Separation of church and state. I can't make a coherent argument for it now, but sometime this month I will.
The Pride!!! Cause I'm seeing it tomorrow. And I've heard it's really intense. And I love really intense theatre.
How psyched I am to go home this weekend. Cause I haven't seen my extended fam in a few months. And it's due time. Also, to run with my dad and recap the Tony's with my mom. And to see my friends. Cause I miss them.
Nervous. This is just what happens when I know I should be asleep but I can't sleep.
Blogging! "I am super bored, and super want to be tired, and feel like writing. But nothing of actual substance, just thoughts." - Kaitlyn at approx 12:57am.
And here we are. I have produced possibly the most worthless blog entry in the history of the world? And that's really saying something because this is the internet, and there is some awful stuff out there.
uh alright. I'm sorry about the shoddy quality of my recent blogs. I'm 99% sure that my next entry will be my queer vocab blog. And that will be good. And worth reading. Bare with me. Or is it Bear with me? No, bear with me would be like telling someone to be a bear and be with me. Nope, just googled it, it's bear with me. Bare with me would be an invitation to take your clothes off.
I mean, we could do that too.
Good God. If this shows up when people google me, I will be really sad.
Ok. I should try to sleep. Better blog soon. I promise. I'm organizing my thoughts on the queer vocab. Stay tuned.
Kait.
Not a Gay Blog.
It's June.
June is pride month.
For my confused (pun) readers, "pride" as in "gay pride". month.
Soooo I have to write a gay blog.
I mean I don't have to, but I'm going to.
But THIS is not that blog.
THIS (I'm diggin the caps) is a reminder to myself to actually write a gay blog.
I have lots of ideas.
From the personal to the political.
Or I could go all Carol Hanisch (No parenthetical explanation here, google her) on you.
Chicago Pride Festival is the 22-23. Expect something around then.
Or maybe I'll just do a whole series of queer blogs leading up to it.
It's gonna be good.
And far less fragmented than this post.
The End.
Kaitlyn
June is pride month.
For my confused (pun) readers, "pride" as in "gay pride". month.
Soooo I have to write a gay blog.
I mean I don't have to, but I'm going to.
But THIS is not that blog.
THIS (I'm diggin the caps) is a reminder to myself to actually write a gay blog.
I have lots of ideas.
From the personal to the political.
Or I could go all Carol Hanisch (No parenthetical explanation here, google her) on you.
Chicago Pride Festival is the 22-23. Expect something around then.
Or maybe I'll just do a whole series of queer blogs leading up to it.
It's gonna be good.
And far less fragmented than this post.
The End.
Kaitlyn
Monday, June 3, 2013
So I haven't started my summer job quite yet
And I'm bored out of my mind. If you haven't gathered from knowing me as a human outside of online, I'm really awful at relaxing and enjoying indeterminably long spans of time without scheduled activities. Like this one. 2 weeks at the most. Antsy.
So antsy that I nearly started to pen my ongoing love/appreciation letter to Sara Quin. Hopefully blogging will keep me from fangirl-ing out, at least for a few days. Not making any promises. Oh but sweet Jesus it feels like there is nothing to blog about! I like to focus my blogs on whatever specific topic is occupying most of my brain synapses, but right now I don't have a unified topic. That said, there's been plenty of interesting things happening in my neck of the woods, so I guess I can sum that up for ya.
I don't want this to bore you though, SO I have just now decided that it would be fun to write this in storybook form. With clever titles to guide you through the events of the past month. :)
Ch. The First: No Pants!
So my job this summer, aside from whatever stitching jobs I can pick up (wink wink nudge nudge any Chicago theatre professionals who find themselves reading this) I'm going to be cleaning lockers and helping organize classrooms at an Orthodox Jewish school nearby.
Funny story. I went in for my interview with the tried and true "wear what you would wear on the job to the interview." For me, this was a nice t-shirt and my bright orange cords. However, as soon as I walked into the school, I knew something was up. I couldn't find the office and everyone I asked gave me a funny look up and down. Now, when you look at me, the words "orthodox" or "Jewish" don't really come to mind, but I didn't think I stuck out too bad. Then I figured it out. Everyone was in skirts that covered their knees. Literally all the women were in skirts. Even the staff. My choice of lower body coverage was not only a pair of pants, but a bright ass pair of pants. Might have stuck out a tad. They were very polite about explaining their dress code to me at the end of the interview though.
Not as Funny, Story #2. I own 1 skirt and it is super short. When I went thrifting to buy my "work skirt" as I have affectionately nicknamed it, I found so many adorable, cheap flannels. Took me 5 hours to find a skirt I deemed acceptable to wear out of a costume party. For the most part every skirt I tried on I was like, "well this doesn't look right." Probably because I haven't worn long skirts since a brief period in 6th grade when I though I would try to pull off the 1950s look.
More funny than the previous, Story #3. I did have one extended period of dress wearing. All I would wear from ages 4 to 5 were dresses. They provided SO much more leg mobility than jeans! I could climb trees, fences, probably buildings if given the opportunity, with the flexibility afforded to me by my dresses! Coincidentally my dresses phase coincided with my commando phase. I distinctly remember the preschool calling my mother...more than once. Needless to say, as soon as she introduced me to leggings there was no going back. Much to the chagrin of my mother, the dress phase was over.
Chapter Numero Dos: Ate it in front of Campus Police.
This summer has brought so many fun things to Chicago. Temperatures above zero is one of them. However, it has stripped me of one of my prized possessions: my upass. No free transit for this lady. My solution has been to bike everywhere. Literally everywhere. I biked to U of C on the south side. One time. Almost died.
Today I biked out to Wilmette to pick up my materials for Cabaret (plugplugplugplugpluglightoperaworks). Yesterday my dad helped me mount my new seat onto my bike, it's very nice and springy I might add. As I was riding, on a sidewalk for a few meters thank God, I noticed that the seat was a bit off center. Naturally I took my hand off the handlebar to smack the seat into adjustment. Unfortunately the springs in my seat reacted rather poorly. I lost control of the front handlebars, really fought for it, and then crash landed on cobblestone and flower bed. In front of campus police. To make matters worse, I was wearing my attention grabbing sunshine yellow bucket helmet. I probably looked like an uncoordinated escapee from some Chicagoland rock climbing expedition.
When I face plant, which is pretty frequently, I spring right back up and keep going (it's a dancer thing, you'll know it when you see it. It's pretty spectacular in performance) as if it didn't happen. This usually elicits a few weird looks from concerned passerby. Basically the same thing here. "My arm's not bleeding, I'm just biking, you saw nothing, I'm laughing at myself, EVERYTHING'S FINE!"
Anyway. Super embarrassing.
Third Chapter: Moving Day.
This blog is pretty special because it's the inaugural blog of our new apartment! Herein deemed....we don't have a name yet. BUT as of 1 hour ago we have a bathroom sink! Small victories. Basically we moved like 6 apartments down the street from where we live now. It was a relatively smooth move and we're settling in quite nicely.
So far, this nameless baby apartment has won my affection over the stomping ground (our previous pad) in so many ways. Here's the list:
1. No rodent feces
2. Hot water on our first night
3. It doesn't smell like cat piss
4. The floors don't slant
5. We have doors
In summary, we now have basic living conditions. But probably the best thing about this apartment is the string of excellent quotes from our building supervisor as he was trying to unclog our sink:
"Don't worry, you gotta do whatcha gotta do"
"Put that in the toilet"
"Why don't you finish your sentences and then shut the f*ck up" (to his phone)
And last, but not least: "Well it was hard going in and hard coming out"
Chapter 4: Friends.
Well, one friend. And her name is Nicole. She came to visit! And we tore it up, let me tell you. I dragged her all over Chicago (read, no upass) and we walked all over the place. Miles. To Hamburger Mary's and back totally inebriated. We peed illegally in a Subway (calm down, not the train. That's reserved for emergencies only) and crossed many streets away from the corner. Think about that the next time you call one of us square. We hunted down a bottle of root beer liquor and went to the aquarium. Super fun visit.
Chapter 5: I have been to 7-11 everyday this week
That's less of a story and more of a sad fact. I'm now on a friendly basis with the cashiers there.
Chapter 6: Recreational Reading
Just finished The Hunger Games. Loved it. Can't wait to bike my ass downtown to get the next one. I love just having time to read before bed. It's so great. Started "Good People" this morning. So far so good.
Chapter 7: Pride is in a few weeks...or all month long
Cleveland's pride was...meh... 10 dollars and looked kinda lame. Sorry Cleveland. You're cool in other ways. But I have high hopes for Chicago. If nothing else because I had a chat with an angry evangelical gentleman about how gay Halstead is. Should make for a good festival. I'm considering buying a rainbow tie and suspenders...I could pull that off.
Well I think that's a good place to stop. Mostly because I'm meeting my dear friend Ian for dinner. And I'm pretty jazzed. And pretty hungry. I keep misspelling hungry as hungary. College. Am I right? I hope your summer's are going equally well.
Peace out home skillets.
Kaitlyn
So antsy that I nearly started to pen my ongoing love/appreciation letter to Sara Quin. Hopefully blogging will keep me from fangirl-ing out, at least for a few days. Not making any promises. Oh but sweet Jesus it feels like there is nothing to blog about! I like to focus my blogs on whatever specific topic is occupying most of my brain synapses, but right now I don't have a unified topic. That said, there's been plenty of interesting things happening in my neck of the woods, so I guess I can sum that up for ya.
I don't want this to bore you though, SO I have just now decided that it would be fun to write this in storybook form. With clever titles to guide you through the events of the past month. :)
Ch. The First: No Pants!
So my job this summer, aside from whatever stitching jobs I can pick up (wink wink nudge nudge any Chicago theatre professionals who find themselves reading this) I'm going to be cleaning lockers and helping organize classrooms at an Orthodox Jewish school nearby.
Funny story. I went in for my interview with the tried and true "wear what you would wear on the job to the interview." For me, this was a nice t-shirt and my bright orange cords. However, as soon as I walked into the school, I knew something was up. I couldn't find the office and everyone I asked gave me a funny look up and down. Now, when you look at me, the words "orthodox" or "Jewish" don't really come to mind, but I didn't think I stuck out too bad. Then I figured it out. Everyone was in skirts that covered their knees. Literally all the women were in skirts. Even the staff. My choice of lower body coverage was not only a pair of pants, but a bright ass pair of pants. Might have stuck out a tad. They were very polite about explaining their dress code to me at the end of the interview though.
Not as Funny, Story #2. I own 1 skirt and it is super short. When I went thrifting to buy my "work skirt" as I have affectionately nicknamed it, I found so many adorable, cheap flannels. Took me 5 hours to find a skirt I deemed acceptable to wear out of a costume party. For the most part every skirt I tried on I was like, "well this doesn't look right." Probably because I haven't worn long skirts since a brief period in 6th grade when I though I would try to pull off the 1950s look.
More funny than the previous, Story #3. I did have one extended period of dress wearing. All I would wear from ages 4 to 5 were dresses. They provided SO much more leg mobility than jeans! I could climb trees, fences, probably buildings if given the opportunity, with the flexibility afforded to me by my dresses! Coincidentally my dresses phase coincided with my commando phase. I distinctly remember the preschool calling my mother...more than once. Needless to say, as soon as she introduced me to leggings there was no going back. Much to the chagrin of my mother, the dress phase was over.
Chapter Numero Dos: Ate it in front of Campus Police.
This summer has brought so many fun things to Chicago. Temperatures above zero is one of them. However, it has stripped me of one of my prized possessions: my upass. No free transit for this lady. My solution has been to bike everywhere. Literally everywhere. I biked to U of C on the south side. One time. Almost died.
Today I biked out to Wilmette to pick up my materials for Cabaret (plugplugplugplugpluglightoperaworks). Yesterday my dad helped me mount my new seat onto my bike, it's very nice and springy I might add. As I was riding, on a sidewalk for a few meters thank God, I noticed that the seat was a bit off center. Naturally I took my hand off the handlebar to smack the seat into adjustment. Unfortunately the springs in my seat reacted rather poorly. I lost control of the front handlebars, really fought for it, and then crash landed on cobblestone and flower bed. In front of campus police. To make matters worse, I was wearing my attention grabbing sunshine yellow bucket helmet. I probably looked like an uncoordinated escapee from some Chicagoland rock climbing expedition.
When I face plant, which is pretty frequently, I spring right back up and keep going (it's a dancer thing, you'll know it when you see it. It's pretty spectacular in performance) as if it didn't happen. This usually elicits a few weird looks from concerned passerby. Basically the same thing here. "My arm's not bleeding, I'm just biking, you saw nothing, I'm laughing at myself, EVERYTHING'S FINE!"
Anyway. Super embarrassing.
Third Chapter: Moving Day.
This blog is pretty special because it's the inaugural blog of our new apartment! Herein deemed....we don't have a name yet. BUT as of 1 hour ago we have a bathroom sink! Small victories. Basically we moved like 6 apartments down the street from where we live now. It was a relatively smooth move and we're settling in quite nicely.
So far, this nameless baby apartment has won my affection over the stomping ground (our previous pad) in so many ways. Here's the list:
1. No rodent feces
2. Hot water on our first night
3. It doesn't smell like cat piss
4. The floors don't slant
5. We have doors
In summary, we now have basic living conditions. But probably the best thing about this apartment is the string of excellent quotes from our building supervisor as he was trying to unclog our sink:
"Don't worry, you gotta do whatcha gotta do"
"Put that in the toilet"
"Why don't you finish your sentences and then shut the f*ck up" (to his phone)
And last, but not least: "Well it was hard going in and hard coming out"
Chapter 4: Friends.
Well, one friend. And her name is Nicole. She came to visit! And we tore it up, let me tell you. I dragged her all over Chicago (read, no upass) and we walked all over the place. Miles. To Hamburger Mary's and back totally inebriated. We peed illegally in a Subway (calm down, not the train. That's reserved for emergencies only) and crossed many streets away from the corner. Think about that the next time you call one of us square. We hunted down a bottle of root beer liquor and went to the aquarium. Super fun visit.
Chapter 5: I have been to 7-11 everyday this week
That's less of a story and more of a sad fact. I'm now on a friendly basis with the cashiers there.
Chapter 6: Recreational Reading
Just finished The Hunger Games. Loved it. Can't wait to bike my ass downtown to get the next one. I love just having time to read before bed. It's so great. Started "Good People" this morning. So far so good.
Chapter 7: Pride is in a few weeks...or all month long
Cleveland's pride was...meh... 10 dollars and looked kinda lame. Sorry Cleveland. You're cool in other ways. But I have high hopes for Chicago. If nothing else because I had a chat with an angry evangelical gentleman about how gay Halstead is. Should make for a good festival. I'm considering buying a rainbow tie and suspenders...I could pull that off.
Well I think that's a good place to stop. Mostly because I'm meeting my dear friend Ian for dinner. And I'm pretty jazzed. And pretty hungry. I keep misspelling hungry as hungary. College. Am I right? I hope your summer's are going equally well.
Peace out home skillets.
Kaitlyn
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