You shouldn't fix your bike while drinking.

In the roughest of chronological order I present: 

Reflections on the week of December 8th (told in the 2nd person. because some things are better approached at arm's length)

When push comes to shove, you and your roommate do have clairvoyant powers and will most likely accurately call the end of the world on a hunch. 

Congrats Bro and Dan. :)

If you pick a shirt off your floor and it isn't stained and you vaguely remember wearing it because someone you really dig commented how it matched your shoes and all you did with the rest of that day was take a 3 hour nap followed by 3 hours of dancing to golden age musicals and songs about the universe, as long as the pits don't smell you are definitely clear to wear it to work today. 

The best remedy for the crippling frustration at your weak finger's inability to remove your bike tire from the rim without puncturing the inner tube, is to drink while you do it. This is false. You will resort to tools and your inner tube will get snagged. Fortunately you have the chutzpah to wait anxiously outside Johnny Sprockets 2 minutes before they open so they can fix your bike immediately at half an hour before your ass needs to be on it pedaling to work. Worth it. 

"I think I got 1.5 hours of sleep last night because I was infuriated at humanity's inability to get its shit together, but I'm not even tired. I'm functioning just like a normal human. Which can mean only one thing, I am definitely superman."

Later that day you cry for a few minutes because you have the best friends in the world. This is where you recognize that the sleep:santiy correlation is suffering. 

If you stretch your middle split long enough, eventually all your muscles release and your torso just kinda creeks to the floor. Like Star Wars IV when the garbage compactor nearly crushes Luke Sywalker, Han Solo, Chewbacca, and Princess Leia. When this happens for the first time, sometimes you panic because this is totally new and supposedly your psoas holds all your repressed feelings from forever and now they have been unleashed and the best thing to do in that moment is to have an audible conversation with the fuzz living under your bed. Weirder things have happened. 

Sometimes you pour a heart in someone's latte. Sometimes that heart gets a little weird and looks like a butt. Sometimes that butt looks a little like an O'Keeffe. Sometimes you get a little too enthusiastic about this development and perfect the details. Despite months of occasional practice you still can't pour appropriate latte art, but Gloria Steinem would be proud.  

You've called the police so many times that you've developed an uncanny ability to remain deceptively calm while talking to the operator. So calm that the operator begins mirroring your tone by the end of the call and you think "maybe I should start crying now just to remind them that I need them to take this situation pretty seriously."  

Sometimes your "no shave November" bleeds into your December and at this point you're like "I have hair on my arms and stuff so why get all bent out of shape about my legs?" You've always known patriarchal beauty standards were bull shit anyway. Then you buzz half your head and realize that the hair on your legs is now longer than the hair on your head and you feel like you've really accomplished something here. 

You can go 5 days straight without washing your hair. Definitely no one noticed. You looked stunning every single day.

You gave in and now own a smart phone. You dislike it even more than anticipated and this pleases you. So you leave it at home for a few days as punishment for its existence. Also because you couldn't figure out how to turn the volume down. 

My body is the perfect vessel for demonic possession.

So last night my roommates and I watched The Conjuring. Because that's what you do when you have the horror movie tolerance of the typical 5 year old and thought you'd take the night as a "rest day."

As predicted, I stayed awake until 1am rationalizing why my body is the perfect vessel for demonic possession.

1) My Catholic Standing
I hit this sweet spot in Catholicism where I'm baptized and confirmed and just Catholic enough to be on the satanic radar, but (given my current "mid-twenties-humanism" approach to spirituality) I probably don't qualify for full protective benefits from the spirit in the sky. Not to mention all this business about Pope Francis and the bishops and the gays. If this went down on October 18th I might have a shot at getting exorcised. But by the 20th the Vatican would be all:


PAPA FRAN: "Oh hey, there's this chick out in Chicago vomiting blood and killing innocent Divvy Bikers, probably Satan up to his dirty tricks again, whaddya say Bishops?"

BISHOPS: "Oh yes, deploy the exorcism commit...WAIT a hot second, she's a flaming homosexual. This could be terrible publicity after formally taking back our brief acceptance of the heathens on October 20th. Ah well."


HOWEVER, there is hope. I happen to be the granddaughter of the one and only Fran Dessoffy, (of no genetic relation to the aforementioned Papa Fran) who is probably the most holy human on the face of the planet. My family has destroyed basically every rule in Catholic doctrine and this woman loves and accepts us anyway. So I'm 90% confident that should I require an exorcism, she could hook me up with one of her many cool priest friends and save my mortal soul and whatever Divvy Bikers remain.

2) They prey on the psychologically week 
I watched a horror movie with 3 people, mostly with the lights on, and still stayed up half the night contemplating why a demonic spirit will more than likely latch on to my person.

The other day I literally shouted "NOOO" and jumped out of my seat on the train because I thought I saw a bedbug. It was a spec of dirt.

one can never be too careful about these things.

3) Nick is my brother
I mean this in the most sibling-y way possible, but this at least triples my chances.

4) I am in excellent physical health
Possessed Lili Taylor was mad strong. I like to think my chances of fighting off various priests and clairvoyants is better than hers. Again, making me the logical choice.


So we are now on night 2 of knowing that this movie exists. That's all I got.

G'night,
Kait

Pro Queer Space Argument to be thrown into the gauntlet of tumblr critique.

Ayeeeee

So I haven't updated this puppy in a while. Mostly because I've been dancing more than I've ever danced before and when I'm not working, biking to work, icing my thass, or dancing, I am sleeping. (Or binge watching Pretty Little Liars, but that's another thing entirely.) 

I'm also friending said dancers on facebook. After a few weeks of being like "please God, don't find my blog" I was like, "fuck it. They've seen me face-plant into a yoga mat in a high cut leotard, they can handle the mess of personal information I've disclosed to the internet over the past four years." 

National Coming Out day was last week and I'm on season three of Pretty Little Lairs, this is enough of an excuse for me to post something about the importance of queer spaces. 

I've seen some interesting articles popping up on my facebook about the death of gay culture. In Chicago with that slew of boystown bars closing, people are starting to question the need for queer spaces. So I'm going to throw my 2 cents to the pro-queer spaces bucket. 

To address the aforementioned (5 point word) article, Boystown has it's problems. Firstly, it's BOYstown. This would indicate that it is a space for cisgender gay dudes. Which is basically what it is. And every time I go, I've realized it's primarily a space for specifically white young cisgender gay dudes. I'm not going to bother looking up the stats, but if Chicago's biggest gayborhood is not a place for 6 out of 7 humans on the LGBTQIA spectrum, or racially inclusive, we have a problem. 

Similar arguments can be made against pride and market days. Is the best display of queerness really to get day drunk and dance around in our underwear? Nahhh. 

We do need to make our safe spaces more inclusive, but phasing out queer spaces in favor of general acceptance is not the way to go.

Living in Chicago, it's easy to forget that not every place is as gay friendly as most cities. My high school and neighborhood was not particularly gay friendly. I knew 2 dudes who were gay and out at my high school. When one of them tried to start a GSA the administration told him he couldn't. Now this is a school with a bible club and sports teams with try outs. You can have those organizations and reject the GSA. That's telling the gay kids that they don't have any allies. And if the administration doesn't accept gay kids, do you thing students will? I can acknowledge that 2009 was a different time (tumblr didn't exist, so being queer wasn't trendy). But my private Catholic College was more accepting of my gayness than my huge public high school would have been had a figured my shit out before I was 19. 

Come on now.

And my story isn't half as bad as most people's. So keep your small town queers in mind next time you try to dismantle a gay mecca. Sometimes the idea is enough to let people know they belong even if they don't actually live there.

Even in Chicago, I feel the most comfortable in the gay spaces (Taking into account that I'm a white, cis-gender, able bodied, middle class lady, but for the sake of the argument:) Everywhere outside of Halsted you're straight until proven gay. If I'm walking around holding hands with anyone but a dude, I'm in the minority. A minority that's accepted, but still someone that gets more than a casual glance from people walking by. If I'm in boystown or at pride, everyone assumes everyone is gay. I can wear cargo shorts and bro tanks without getting looks. Unless there's some huge genetic rift, this is just how it's going to be. As someone who likes to keep a low profile, I appreciate pockets where no one bats and eye.

Lastly, there's just something cool about a bunch of non-hetero's in a room together. Groups of straight girls get to bond over their lust for Leonardo DiCaprio literally anytime they want. If you're in a room with a lady human, chances are she is in love with Leonardo DiCaprio. And you can just relate till the cows come home. I don't get it. But you do you. Not that every non-straight non-cis person is exactly the same, but there's usually some common ground.

"who sells men's jeans that will accommodate my ass and thighs?" 

"of course I knew Ellen Paige was gay before Valentine's day 2014,"

"how many holidays did you have to wear combat boots and flannel before someone figured it out" 

"do you want to get coffee sometime?" 

I could go into a whole gay hallmark drama about that coffee date, but you get what I'm saying. And sometimes I wish I could put all the queers in a fishbowl so I could find dates. Don't lie. You've thought it. Unless your a dude in theatre, no sympathy. 

So yeah. Lets not do away with those gayborhoods just yet. Let's make them totally embracing of people of color, trans folks, people with disabilities, etc. That needs to happen. 

And also, could we get some low key bars up in here? Like, some place that doesn't have a smoke machine or subwoofer? Or maybe a knitting club? I would totally be down for a gay knitting club. 

Grandma out. Have a good night. 

Heyyyy White People

Let's talk about racism.

Seriously folks, it's time I addressed this.

Frankly, my blog is an excellent example of a white person being totally apathetic when it comes to taking action against racism. I pride myself in being socially conscious and politically active. Since I've started this blog, countless innocent black folks have been murdered by white folks with a shooter bias and I literally haven't said anything about it! That's really really terrible and I'm so sorry for not acknowledging this sooner.

Racism is a touchy subject for me and I think it is for a lot of white people. I grew up in a predominantly white, blue collar, suburb just south of Cleveland. I figured that since Jim Crow racism wasn't a thing anymore we were living in a post-race society. I grew up in a generation that didn't talk about race because we figured it wan't relevant. But if you acknowledge that there are still really harmful stereotypes surrounding black culture or like, watch the news, it's pretty clear that we're still living in a racist society.

I try to be a good white person. I recognize that I have privilege as a white person in this country just because of the color of my skin. I think about race constantly. I am very aware of the things I assume about people based on their race and when I catch myself making an assumption I work to undo that schema. After doing some research I came to the conclusion that reverse racism can't exist because us white folk aren't the minority group being prejudiced against. I'm not trying to sound superior. But I'll risk sounding superior to say that this should be our baseline, white people. Racism isn't about to fix itself. And we are part of the problem, so we need to be part of the solution.

It's come up more often recently, probably due to the death of Michael Brown, may he rest in peace, but so many of my friends have been talking about their experience with racism on a daily basis. White people assuming they're trying to steal a bike, making preacher jokes, shit about buying drugs. WHITE PEOPLE WHAT ARE WE DOING?! I am so angry that we consider ourselves to be a post race society but my friends are still getting racist comments on the daily?!

Okay what am I saying here. A few things:

Thing 1: Racism still exists. White people, it's time we acknowledge it.

Thing 2: More than acknowledge it, we need to actually do something about it.

Thing 3: What can we do? For starters, talk about it. I get SUPER uncomfortable talking about race because I am terrified that I will offend someone I care about, or say the wrong thing, or make an ass of myself BUT I've decided that the consequences of not having these discussions are way worse that the possible faux pas that will happen because of them. Like this post, I've re-written sentences so many times and I'm absolutely sure that a whole lot slipped though the cracks. Posting it anyway. Please call me out on things.

Thing 4: Black people, bear with me. Sometimes I am unintentionally inconsiderate. I really don't care what color your skin is, but old stereotypes die hard. Is that even a saying? I'm making it one.


So this has been the first of many blogs to come addressing racism. Mostly it's serving as a "this is a thing we're going to talk about and it could get ugly but at least we're talking." There will be more detail soon, but I was sick of putting this off so I decided to post it as it is.

Have a good rest of your Sunday,

Kaitlyn

Chicken and Juno and Netflix.

Ayeoooooo

Nothing particularly spectacular has happened to me in the past week and a half or so since I last wrote anything, but what with my night off and this unseasonably warm November day, it feels like the right time to update this.

Last weekend I auditioned for Joel Hall's second company. I can't say enough good things about this company. Usually when I go to drop ins at other studios, I'm in a room full of young, skinny, white ladies such as myself, who have been dancing since they were 5. At Joel Hall I am dancing with people of all ages, sizes, races, genders, and levels of experience. It sounds like that would create a really disorganized class, but it really works. I feel like I've learned more than I usually do from my classmates here and I'm meeting some really cool people. As far as the audition goes, I feel great about it. I bombed the petite allegro, but it didn't throw me off, so I'm taking it as a lesson in recovery. I still haven't heard, and they said we'd know within the week. So I'm not holding my breath, but the audition and classes I've taken there have made me realize that this is the kind of atmosphere I want to work in. Even if I don't make any of their companies, it's good to know that there is a studio I feel at home in.

Literal hours after the audition I hopped on the megabus and went home for a few days. It was a nice little visit. It's weird going home now after college because I don't really know when I'll be back again. Hopefully around Thanksgiving. At any rate, I managed to see a lot of my friends and family who I don't get to see very often. I have no intention of moving back to Ohio any time soon, but it is comforting to know that I have a loving home base to fall back on should I ever truly fail as a professional barista.

Speaking of which, my latte hearts still look like dicks.

Which brings us to today. Which was awesome.

After work I went to the library to get some music and THEY HAD THE JUNO SOUNDTRACK. THEY NEVER EVER HAVE THE JUNO SOUNDTRACK. FINALLY. They also had Regina Spektor, They Might Be Giants, and Ingrid Michaelson. Basically my "biking to work" playlist just got a million times better.

New jams in hand I was feeling inspired to actually cook stuff. I've been eating bagels and whatever is about to go out at work for the past week and it is no longer cutting it. So I made my usual variation on carb+veggies+protein. But, big news this time: I cooked chicken. I bought raw, potentially salmonella filled chicken and cooked it and ate it with minimal fear of death, debilitating illness, or accidentally contaminating my roommates. This is big for me. I'm so full right now.

Then I decided it was time to buzz my hair again. I'm growing the top out and it's just not cooperating. It looks sort of like that wave on the Indigo Girls album art. I can't really blame it. What with all the bleaching, product and hair dye I subject it to. At least now the sides are trimmed. Whatever.

Anyway, lastly, tonight I joined the adult world and bought my own netflix account. Because I keep mooching off people and then today I was like, "Kaitlyn, it's been a 4 star day, and you can absolutely swing $8 a month, just get your own netflix." Then I was like, shoot, I need a cool password so when someone asks to mooch off my netflix I can pay it forward without embarrassment.

So basically I can cook chicken, give myself a quick and dirty hair cut, marathon Breaking Bad, and listen to Kimya Dawson whenever I want.

Success.

Peace be with you,
Kaitlyn

Dancing and Bedbugs and Lolla oh my.

hi.

Before I get into it, I'd like to acknowledge a lot of my blogs have been incredibly self centered recently. I'm trying to figure out what I'm doing with my life and hasn't left me with much mental energy to formulate educated thoughts that are not already all over the internet about issues outside of my own life.

Also, give me one person who can explain what's happening in the Gaza strip. Like, I could try, but in 15 minutes my blog will be irrelevant. I'm not much for prayer, but if there was ever a time this is it.

I digress. Anyway, I have a hunch that the vast majority of people who read my blog are in the same boat. So I hope you can get something out this, even if it is just a sense that you're not the only who is neck deep in first world problems and post grad woes.

Thing 1:
About 3 weeks ago I decided that I wanted to make dance a priority. So I saved my tips, started taking classes at Joel Hall, and signed up for a few company auditions. I love being back in class but sweet Jesus I am out of dance shape. Not out of actual shape, I can bike from my apartment to the south loop in 35 minutes at 4am, easy (I need to brag about physical accomplishments, this is what I have going for me right now). But dance classes are this whole other animal. Firstly, all the biking has made my legs and hips really tight, so my flexibility is way under where I need it to be. Also, my abdominal wall is probably actually just a pile of jello. I've been working on it, and I'm getting stronger, but the other day in class I literally hit the floor halfway through a jackknife set. Like, full on fell over. So embarrassing. Plus, biking for an hour, being on your feet for 8 and then biking home for an hour only to run off and dance for two hours is exhausting. And this is not unusual. I knew what I was signing up for but I need to figure out how to actually, physically do all of this because I am definitely still in the adjustment period.

Thing 2:
Earlier this week I found a bedbug in my room. Now I've been down this road before, so my immediate reaction was hysterical crying for 1/2 an hour. Then I threw myself into the laundry and garbage bag routine, notified my roommates and landlord, and rationed out 40 dollars worth of quarters. After four days of prep the exterminator came, confirmed that my room has bugs, and treated the apartment. As of now we are in a ten day waiting period living out of garbage bags.

My job is to bait the bugs. Since the bugs are only in my room I have to sleep in my bed every night. The carbon dioxide emitting from my unconscious body lures the bugs out of hiding. To get to me they have to cross the exterminator's chemical barrier. But as I understand it, this doesn't kill them immediately. They nom on me for a bit, then crawl off to die. As you can imagine, this is exceptionally comforting and makes taking naps and going to bed a totally stress free time. Except that it's not, and it isn't, and I hate everything about this. Also, I've worn the same 3 outfits for the past 7 days. And I get like four hours of paranoid sleep a night. Which makes "biking working biking dancing" really hard to manage. And the icing on the cake, I react to bed bug bites with huge hives that are incredibly itchy. So I'm currently sporting some really attractive bleeding welts. It's great.

Also OCD and infestations of bloodsucking parasites. Just. Mmm.

Thing 3:
One of my nearest, dearest, closest friends Sara is leaving for Atlanta in a week. This is not a bad thing! I want to be clear that I am so so excited for her and cannot wait for her to just tear it up as a badass lady fitness professional (I'm going to refer to you as a fitness professional, Sara, just so you know.) I'll spare her the embarrassment of publishing my love note to her on my blog, but she is so important and I already miss her so very much.

Thing 4:
Lollapalooza. I just cannot. I have had it with the herds of underage youths in booty shorts, flowered headbands, and camelbaks. Can I just say, you're not hiking the fucking Sahara, I am judging you.

I hope ya'll who went had fun.

Grandma out,

Kaitlyn.

Try as They May, I Cannot be Flirted With.

So I work in a cafe. A ladygay (based on her appearance and my advanced gaydar) walks in.

 She compliments my hair.

My response is "Thanks so much, I try really really hard."

To which she says "Really?! Well it looks really, really good."

Well adorable ladygay, thank you for continuing to speak words to me. I am sorry that I channel the spirit of a overcooked chicken nugget.

Mondays man.

Monday, Monday Monday.

-Tegan and Sara. Wonder humans.

The end.

Kait

Booty Spandex and Street Harassment

HI!

So for those of you who don't know (most of you probably) I've started doing stand up at pH comedy club. Because the people are funny and I'm funny and it's a free way to perform and see a show. It's also exposed me to what a homophobic, sexist, bro-fest comedy can be. So I've begun to think of this as a platform for my feminist/gay agenda. So expect preachy, but let me know if it gets unrelatable.

Also, this is raunchy and inappropriate. So no one forward this to grandma to prove that I am working in my field. Thanks.

Enjoy.

So BIG NEWS guys. This week I got my first pair of compression shorts. My bike seat and I have never felt closer. It's really taken our relationship to the next level.

It's also thrown me into the gauntlet of street harassment my straight looking friends receive on a daily basis. I was working out on the beloved lake shore trail I passed these two white dudes sitting on a bench. As I approached them one of the guys said "Hi" so I said "Hey, cool bike." Naturally his response was, "Look at dat ass, MMmmmmm sexy, I'd lick that, got enough to go around?"

Does that ever work? Has anyone ever been like "Fuck yeah, lets do this, whip it out and show me what we're workin' with." I'm going to start doing that. Because if you think you can make me uncomfortable by bringing attention to my sexy ass in my tight pants then you have another thing coming. I'm a dancer. I spend hours every day in a leotard and I know my ass looks good. Your shouting it at me validates nothing.

With that said, I hear you bench dudes of the lake shore trail. I too appreciate the sexy ladies. Suns out, guns out, buns out, I am in favor of all of this. But I have more tact than you. For example, when I see see an attractive lady out running or at a bar or at the library, instead of harassing her I covertly stare at her until she notices me. At which point I quickly look away and we never see each other again.

(I'm making a joke about lesbian flirting. It's cool, you can laugh)

 And I am still absolutely confident that I get laid more often then those guys on the bench.

Week 2

Ayee

My blog is quickly devolving into public reflections of my life with no greater purpose. I'll work on remedying that.

But for now

This was the first week back in dance classes! My butt place and surrounding places are so sore I haven't left this chair in 2 days except to bike to the south loop and back to work an 8 hour shift at 5 am. Twice. And then I went shopping and mailed some stuff. And I have plans to run if my legs and butt places will allow it. But thrilled to pieces to be back at it.

Also, giving this whole stand up thing another go. Basically I just recap my blog entries from that time when I was witty and political. And all the guys there are all "no homo" and "bangin' pussy" (direct quote) so I have a new feminist agenda to keep me busy.

Thirdly: i finally got around to switching to an Apple iPod. i can't say i love iTunes. But iDo like their unconventional capitalization rules. The only CD I have gotten on there is a Ke$ha/Tegan and Sara mash up. Unrivaled variety.

Fourthly: I ate an entire jar of peanut butter in 12 days.

Fifthly: Soon I will write about my new found coffee snobbery and the art that is coffee culture. Or maybe an obscure movie review. Or my adventures in Andersonville. Regardless, it will be a blog worth reading. Unlike this one, which has been a general downward comparison benchmark. Congrats for making it this far.

Have a lovely, albeit cloudy, rest of your Saturday,
Kait

Anticipated Floundering.

A Story:

Yesterday my roommates and I got home from our 4th of July festivities roundabout 12am. As Brittany and I climbed upstairs we discussed the woes of waking up before 6 to get to work while trying to maintain a social life. When we reached our place, we unlocked the door, jiggled the handle, and failed to gain entry. After about 5 minutes of fussing with it, we thought maybe there is a problem and we need to call the landlord. (Meanwhile, our next door neighbors were watching porn on their big screen tv with the window wiiiiiide open) While Brit called the building super, I tried to spiderman up the front of our building to break in through my window. After a few failed trials I decided not to risk falling to my death and went around back to try to open our back door. Would have gotten in had it not been for the chain slide lock that we had secured before we left for the day. Rather than give up so easily, I decided to see if I could finagle the thing and open the door. Following no less than 5 squished biceps and angry kicking of the doorknob, I stomped out to the back yard. From there I could hear our other (not the porn ones. though I'm sure they would have been happy to help) neighbors having a 4th of July get together on their back porch. So I crashed that, quickly introduced myself, and asked if they had a screw driver so I could try to break into my apartment. They gave me one but I couldn't get enough torque behind it. So (head literally hung in shame, frustration, and exhaustion) I went back to return the philips head and asked if they had a power drill. They did not. BUT their friend had bolt cutters. And he (lord and savior) left his party for a hot second to cut the door chain and finally let us in. Then kissed us all on the cheek and continued his party. I promised to bake them something. Nice guys.

The above story is a fairly accurate representation of my post-grad experience thus far.

A Memoir: 

Three months ago when people asked me what my plans were post graduation, I would say "flounder for a bit."

And flounder I have.

Step one was punching 2 new holes in my ear and bleaching the fuck out of my hair. I regret neither.

I'm working a full time job at a coffee shop. It's fast paced, crazy early hours, great staff, and decent tips. It's in the south loop and despite the patrons of the Ohio Street Beach and Navy Pier, my hour bike commute is consistently one of my favorite times of day.

With all the biking, my legs are like fucking tree trunks. If I were the type of person who liked working out at the gym, I would all but destroy the quad pump machine. With the change-up in my types of activity, my body slowly but surely adjusted to a new, more efficient form. I don't really need all the abs I had from dance, but my bike rides get faster every day from my quad overuse. I don't regret it. If I can sleep the extra 5 minutes at 3:30am, I will.

But, as all good things do, floundering time has come to an end. I'm ready (and financially able) to do a little more than make money, drink with friends, and recover from making money and drinking with friends. I've been working for 3 weeks now, have gotten a pay check, and am ready to throw myself at auditioning/networking/killing myself for art.

First on the docket is dance. Drop-ins are pricey, but I'm making myself save enough tips to take class at least twice a week. That's like, 2 nights I can't get drinks or eat out. Fine. But after the past few semesters, I realize just how much I need to dance. So I'm going to get involved in the scene here and see what comes of it. The dream would be to dance for a contemporary/modern company, but for now I'm just itching to get back into classes. I like knowing I'm working towards something greater than keeping a roof over my head and feeding myself. The only thing I'm not looking forward to is getting all those dance muscles back. It will hurt so good.

Another exciting step towards adulthood: I have a new apartment! As my roommates and I have deemed it, it's a "big girl" apartment. The management company actually cleaned before we came and (save for the door) we haven't had any major problems! The best feature of said apartment is that it's in Andersonville. Andersonville is easily one of my top 3 Chicago neighborhoods and it's cool to get away from campus a bit. I forget that families and 30 year olds exist sometimes. Now they're back. The second best feature of said apartment is that I HAVE MY OWN ROOM. Finally. And a closet. My clothes are on hangers. And I have furniture that isn't Rubbermaid. The sense of permanence is so nice. And by nice I mean I've already thought about how I could definitely move it all myself when the time comes, but for now I'm happy to not have to lift a dresser for at least a year.

This afternoon I decorated. It primarily involved ripping Orange is the New Black adds out of this summer's edition of BUST. Because if you can have a picture of Natasha Lyonne seductively biting a screw driver taped to your door, why wouldn't you?

In other news, my mom just left town. She was a super helpful mover and also partied way harder than me. No one is surprised. So much love.

But this grandma needs to go to bed like, right meow. I've gotten a collective 6 hours of sleep over the past 2 nights and I open again tomorrow. I'm not complaining, I love this. But Also, I'm literally losing consciousness right now.

Until next,
Kaitlyn

Things I Learned From My Dad

Dearest Dads (and everyone else, but especially dads),

Happy Father's Day! I hope you all got at least an hour off and enjoyed it. I am going to take a minute or two to brag about my dad publicly because we are not terribly sentimental, but I am forever grateful for the role he played in my upbringing. So here is a non-exhaustive list of:

Things I Learned From My Dad. 

1. How to win a bar fight.
This followed a lesson called, "how to tell if you're about to get into a bar fight."

2. Do not accept the opinions of anyone, even people you admire, without first doing exhaustive research so you can form your own opinion. Then take this nuanced opinion to your close friends and family and play devil's advocate until someone asks you to leave Christmas.

3. How to MacGyver anything. My fondest memory of this is when my dad and uncle nearly burned down our house while fixing the hot water tank with a homemade blow torch. The only casualty was my First Communion slip. I'm not upset about it.

4. How to build (and thus repair) a bike. I can't even express how important this is to me.

5. If you wear it this season, it will be in next season. Or maybe next lifetime. But salmon running shorts and Hawaiian shirts will be in eventually.

6. How to cook an egg. This was my first culinary endeavor and it was a big deal.

7. Life is not fair. And sometimes it is terrible. And sometimes it is awesome. And all of that is ok and normal and you will be fine.

And last but certainly not least:

8. The secret to success. This was for Nan's DTSP class freshman year of college. When I emailed my dad the question, this is the answer I got:

"Success is when you achieve your goal. Choosing the goal is the first step. Choosing a goal. Let's take a simple example. Making breakfast. First clear your mind. Next wait for inspiration. In a moment or 2 you will begin to visualize yourself sitting at the breakfast table, or on your way to class. Next the smells and tastes of breakfast will rise up. It may be a bowl of cereal, or an egg mc muffin sandwich. As the world around you takes over your mind contradictions and urgency will present various scenarios. One of them will gain strength and the course will become apparent. As you act on it you will stand up, then move irresistibly to your goal. There may be surprising twists in this journey. The milk you visualized has vanished, a friend offers you a delicious bagel. Don't worry, breakfast will come and success will very likely visit you. Expand this concept to the broad sweep of your life. Sit quietly. Empty your mind of all thoughts. Slowly allow yourself to contemplate the arc of your existence. Allow the perfect world to present itself to you in the context of that moment. Now project what you perceive as your self into this world. From emptiness to fullness you will glimpse your place. Executing the many steps to success. Begin with emptiness. Proceed to action gradually. Check your progress by returning to nothingness at regular intervals. In short, start with mindlessness. Trust in that which is revealed. Progress to mindfulness. Repeat until you no longer live in this realm. That is the secret to success."

If I missed any lessons, I'm confident that they are in the above paragraph and I just haven't thought hard enough about it to see it.


So there you have it. Happy Father's Day dad, I hope you are not too embarrassed by this mess of a thing I call my blog. If you are, no worries, my reader base is like, half my facebook friends. And one guy in Germany. I can't explain that.

Have a good week folks, Love you dad,

Kaitlyn

The Mother Trucking Navy Pier Bike Detour.

So I have the Loveliest daily commute on the planet. Starting between 4 and 5 am, I hop on my bike and cruise downtown on the Lakeshore trail with the sunrise. Literally the only thing standing in the way of cycling nirvana is the bike detour at Navy Pier. While I can usually bypass 90% of the tourist crowd, I now have to plow through it at 2pm (peak Pier hours). The result is a gradual build up of aggression and fury that could blow at any given moment. So instead of screaming at trail patrons, I come up with ways to torture them until the are moderately to severely annoyed. Here is my list: 

If I get stuck behind one more family strung five abreast takin’ up the whole damn path, I will kick buckets of tiny pebble at them. 

If one more person feels the need to do a sunburst jazz hand motion to my face as I pass them after shouting “left,” I will eat a bean and egg sandwich and fart upwind of them.  

If one more butt-face in a bro tank sprints past me only to slow down in front of me because he can’t keep my pace for more than 100 yards, I will plague him with swarms of gnats every 20 feet until he has so many bugs up his nose and mouth that he will be snotting them out for weeks. 

If one more yippee dog on an extendable leash darts across my path, I will punt that little shart into the lake. 

If I see one more person playing on their phone LITERALLY WALKING INTO ME, I will take his phone, change the language to Russian and program it to only ring in Gregorian chants for the rest of it’s life. 

If I see one more Divvy Biker try to pass a pedestrian by cycling up their ass than shouting “MOVE” at the last second, I will switch out their deodorant for 3 day old congealed bacon grease. 

If I am behind one more Rent-A-Biker who doesn't think that she can get across the Pier Entrance Drive in 16 seconds and decides to wait it out for the next official walk signal, I will replace her Advil with laxatives.

What I’m saying is, we need a bike autobahn. Pass on the left.   

How Not to Out Someone

It's June Friends!

If you remember from last year, June is Gay Pride month and I have been in full swing celebration. Orange is the New Black came out, I went to Midsommarfest, watched the Tony Awards, and worked a discussion about lesbians in literature last night.

So I'm handing out programs and a man walks up to me. With no introduction he asks, "So are you a lesbian?" Because I was working a queer lady centered event and I'm comfortable enough with that label I gave a straightforward "yes." But for the record, there are about a hundred less weirdo ways to ask someone if they're gay.

Generally, it's not of the utmost importance that you know someone's sexuality, but we all find ourselves in situations where we want to know. Here are some way less weird ways to handle yourself in a situation when you are unsure of someone's sexuality and are just dying to find out.

1) First of all, get to know the person. Asking a total stranger about their sexual preference is super weird.
2) Caveat: if you're in a bar/club/flirting situation adopt the "everyone is gay" perspective. If the flirtee turns out to be straight, move on! People assume I'm into dudes all the time. No offence taken. Getting tastefully flirted with can be flattering, even when there's nothing to be gained.
3) Bring up some gay topics with them. Ask if they're going to pride, drop a few tv references (think Glee, Skins, Pretty Little Liars, RuPaul's Drag Race).
4) Talk about yourself first. I'm pretty out, but I am more comfortable coming out to someone if it's part of a conversation rather than a one sided questioning. That can start feeling like an interrogation. No one likes that.
5) Ask them what they think of X celebrity. This is a good option because celebrities of all genders are super attractive. So if someone doesn't want to come out to you they can say "oh I would kill for Donald Glover's abs." They can be ambiguous or they can take the opportunity to say "oh I would kill for Donald Glover's abs but I would jump down Olivia Wilde's pants." Or "I would jump down Donald Glover and Olivia Wild's pants." Limitless.
6) "You play softball?" *wink* (winking is key)
7) Gents, I need some help with stereotypes beyond "are you a theatre major?" and "did you go to an all boys Catholic school?"

Jokes aside, the point I'm trying to make is that a person's identity is their own business. There are plenty of reasons why someone might not want to come out. Asking directly is effective, but if the only escape route is lying, you've just cornered someone into an uncomfortable situation. Asking directly in public adds more pressure to an already tense situation. Don't do that. If you're going to go the direct route do it privately after you've gotten to know the person.

More importantly, consider why you need to know this person's sexuality. If it's to crack a joke or embarrass them, don't ask. Make sure you have a valid reason to ask. People will tell you if you they want you to know. Don't create an awkward situation by rushing the answer out of them.

Kaitlyn

A Quick Post Grad Update For You.

Happy June!

It's been a little while. I've been a little busy graduating, moving, putting up a show, and binge watching Orange is the New Black (more on that later because SWEET JESUS). I'm nearing the end of a 5 day break between jobs and have taken full advantage of the downtime.

As for grand scheme "plans after graduation" here they are:

1) Brunch with my parents. Accomplished.

2) Move to Andersonville (neighborhood just southwest of Roger's park where I'm currently subletting for June and have gone to school for 4 years) in July. Stay in Chicago for the foreseeable future.

3) Work at Dollop Coffee Shop in the loop on kitchen or register. Not yet a barista but I've got the basics and will hopefully get trained in coffee soon.

4) Keep auditioning for stuff. Mostly straight plays. But I still enjoy doing musicals. Though I really miss dancing and would love to get involved in the Chicago scene. So I'm looking into that, but classes cost money and I need some time to work and save up. So dance is on the back burner, but I love the performance scene in Chicago and I'm so excited to get more involved.

So there you have it. I know some of my family and friends from home read this so I figured I'd fill you in. Miss everyone in Ohio, but I'm planning on coming home in mid August and then hopefully for some holidays.

Peace out home skillets,
Kaitlyn

The UC Shootings and Social Media

I'm assuming if you're reading this, you've already heard about the UC Santa Barbara shooting this weekend. If you haven't, here's one link to the story: http://abcnews.go.com/US/killed-mass-murder-shooting-uc-santa-barbara/story?id=23853918

I heard about it two nights ago as I was scrolling through tumblr (as one does instead of sleeping). My dashboard was full of posts about how this is solely a feminist issue and how women everywhere are now terrified of getting shot because men can't handle rejection. I take issue with this.

What I don't like about social media is that people tend to present the most radical position. Then HUGE angry arguments break out over who is right and people stop listening to each other. Tumblr was divided into 3 Camps. Camp A: Feminist only. They claimed that Rodger killed those women because society trains men to believe that they are entitled to women sexually as if they are prizes for having a penis. Camp B: Psychologists only. According to them, mental illness is to blame specifically Aspergers, likely combined with a conduct disorder. Camp C (a statistically null camp) was (mostly) men who only appeared in youtube comments to express their solidarity with Rodgers. They sympathize with the pain of rejection and threaten women to not reject men. For obvious reasons, I will not be defending Camp C though they do play an important role in the discussion.

There is no way the shootings were ONLY because Rodger was a misogynist or ONLY because he may have been mentally ill. I read this transcript of Rodger's suicide video: http://www.cnn.com/2014/05/24/us/elliot-rodger-video-transcript/. Give it a look, his views of women have certainly been molded by our patriarchal society that teaches men to use women. If you're not going to read the whole thing, here's a sample: "You girls have never been attracted to me. I don't know why you girls aren't attracted to me, but I will punish you all for it. It's an injustice, a crime, because... I don't know what you don't see in me. " Obviously not the words of the respectful "gentleman" he claims to be 3 lines later. Because tumblr and google exist, I'm not going to take more time to explain why this is definitely a feminist issue that deserves attention as such.

However it is undeniably also an issue of disability and mental illness. Every man gets rejected by someone at some point in his life. Not every man shoots up a school. When someone is "mentally healthy" they do not chose to murder 7 people and then take their own life. That is not a statistically typical reaction to rejection (though it does happen frequently enough that we need to take it seriously). I'm not a psychologist and I did not know Rodger on a personal clinical level, but after reading his suicide transcript, I would venture to guess that he was not emotionally well. And not in a typical, "everyday disappointment" kind of way, but in an antisocial personality disorder kind of way. Thankfully, we are finally starting to give mental illnesses like depression and anxiety validation and understanding. Antisocial personality disorder and other conduct disorders deserve this same visibility. This is a really ugly side of psychological problems. I think we ignore them because they're less common and so uncomfortable to think about. By acknowledging that this Rodger probably suffered from a conduct disorder we are NOT justifying his actions or ignoring the other social factors (such as feminism) at play. Rather, we are looking at the whole picture instead of oversimplifying a complex situation.

Though less of a diagnostic factor, social media has overwhelmingly ignored Rodger's asperger's syndrome diagnosis. A year ago Rodger's parents reported that he was being harassed in school and was pushed off a balcony, potentially by his peers in an act of bullying. His suicide video is all about how the kids he goes to school with are cruel to him. Asperger's is more of a secondary factor, but could this not have been prevented if people  understood more about autism and other diagnosis that severely effect social functioning? I am not saying that Rodger's classmates are at fault or that their deaths are justified. But if we can place blame on the social ill that is the patriarchy, can we not also place some blame our society's ignorance of people with autism spectrum disorders?

Also, gun control. No one is talking about gun control. I'm not going to because I want to focus on the social issues and frankly I haven't researched it enough to form an educated opinion. But again, we are ignoring so many factors in this case.

It upsets me that people are so eager to pick a side and ignore the big picture. Seven people were killed, many more were injured, and one committed suicide. This is far more complex than a battle  between whether this is a feminist or ablest issue. To simplify it to a battle between politics means we are not respecting the situation seriously enough to look at the grey areas that no one is comfortable discussing.

This IS a feminist issue, this IS an issue of mental health awareness, and this IS an issue of gun control. Among countless other factors that I'm not going to go into detail about.

With that said, I would love to hear your thoughts if you disagree with my point of view on this whole thing. But please, lets make it a discussion rather than an accusation.

Kait

College Graduation!

Whooooooo!!!!!

Done with formal schooling 5ever!!!!

I'm really excited about this if you can't tell. I don't really have anything prolific to say but it feels important enough to warrant some from of blog update. I much prefer this to high school graduation. Way less of a production. Plus our gowns looked so much better than the grey sack I had to wear at Parma. The one wardrobe mistake I did make was forgetting to buy nice shoes to wear under it. So I wore pants and boots. Which I thought looked collegiate and badass, until I got there and realized that my roommate Emily and I were two of three chicks in pants. Even then I still thought it looked collegiate and badass, so actually I don't care. But again, worth noting. Unless you want to be in a very small minority, wear a dress ladies. Proceeded to take a whole bunch of pictures, I'm looking at the correct camera in maybe four of them. Maybe.

Mostly I feel like I just put a huge stamp of completion over a huge phase of my life. All I have left to do at Loyola proper is a little bit of costume shop business and them I'm wrapped up. Similar to the feeling when you finally finish all your assignments for a term and you get to go on winter break. But this time I know that I don't have to apply for classes or order books or anything. Sweet sweet relief.

Plus I just transferred most of my important emails to gmail, and figured out how to organize my gmail. I'm not going to lie, I didn't realize you could organize your email. Like I always thought it was either in your inbox or you deleted it. And since the internet is a limitless black hole, I just left everything in there. Then I heard my friends who work in administration critiquing each other's email organization and I was like, shit I need to google some things. Long story short, I feel that I have absolutely entered adulthood because my inbox is nearly empty.

That pretty much wraps it up. My parents left and were like, "alright, go party it up" and I was like, "I got up at 7 this morning. I'm going to watch netflix." Goodnight.

Kaitlyn

Date A Girl Who Dances. The Rebuttal.

Hello Friends.

I just finished my final final of college! I'm not feeling the least bit sentimental about it right now, but I'm sure there will be some mushy blogs in the month to come.

The end of the semester means that I finally have time to deconstruct this article I stumbled upon on facebook. I've been waiting for weeks. Here's a link to it: http://www.buzzfeed.com/steffirina/date-a-girl-who-dances-op3t The article, called "Date A Girl Who Dances, is written by Steffi Carter. At first read, I was embarrassed by her portrayal of dancers, but through further examination I found it littered with red flags as it relates to feminism and dance culture.

Let's jump right in, shall we?

The Title: "Date A Girl Who Dances"
YES. All about this. I am a girl. I dance. You should date me. Absolutely on board.

Well. It's downhill from here. You absolutely should read the whole thing, but I'll give you my highlights.

"Date a girl whose eyes get glassy when assaulted by new music because she can’t help choreographing, casting, living and dying in her mind."
I can't shake the image of me at my first death metal concert. This is about the only time I have every been truly assaulted by a piece of music. And by assaulted I mean it was so suddenly loud that I almost fell over. I humiliated myself in a room full of folks that looked like they could eat me alive and I've made it a goal to not repeat the incident. I personally feel like I can handle listening to music. I mean, I can do the fucking splits. Music does not make me catatonic. 

"Find a girl who dances. You’ll know that she does because she will seem to move endlessly. She will sway to the sounds of the city, fidget every few minutes, crack her knuckles and her neck, roll each wrist and cross the other leg just so she feels even. She will forget herself and where she is, the length of her skirt and the strangeness of what she’s about to do when something falls from her lovely, articulate hands to the floor. She will not bend at the knees because she does not have to, folding instead at the waist to execute the kill. That’s the dancer. When she straightens, she will laugh at herself, and her collarbone will beg you waltz with her."

Ah. The illusive, mysterious dancer creature. A rare breed. Certainly not human. Certainly not fit to navigate the city without getting lost in the bustle. Very strange. Personally, I prefer to bend my knees to pick stuff up. Unless there's a cute girl behind me and I'm having a good butt day. What I'm getting at here is that I'm interpreting most of these qualities as negative and kind of crazy. I absolutely like to roll each wrist to feel even, but for me that's a residual ocd type habit that I personally don't want to glorify. And this "finding the dancer" game has a predator/prey feel that I am NOT into when it comes to dating.

"Such proximity to a pedestrian has reawakened an awareness of her abnormality; she had nearly forgotten, again, that not everyone needs a tutu to feel alive."

Mmm. Abnormal. Flattering. 

"See if she cries when she doesn’t make the cut, and learn to anticipate what she needs before and after that audition. Remember what needs massaging, and when. Understand that it is a rare treat indeed for her to really be at rest, to have a day off from running to and from rehearsals, and to take a break from being beautiful."

Oh the patronizing! I can't! Please ladies, can we stop perpetuating this stereotype that we can't stand on our own two feet? I mean yeah, I have wept my way through many a post-callback situation, we've all been there, but give yourself some credit here! Many dancers can push their bodies very far physically and the professional performing world is full of bullshit that we just have to take. You're pretty damn strong. And this bit about taking a break from being beautiful? Please. The connection to female beauty standards doesn't bear deconstructing. 

"Technically, she was never trained to talk. She was trained to listen. Let her speak when she finds her voice. Do not ask her to make sense."

Pardon? Never trained to talk? This tells young female dancers that they should keep quiet. Women's voices have been historically undervalued if not completely ignored. There have been WAVES of feminists who worked their asses off to give women more of a voice and I REFUSE to forfeit the progress we have made because I also happen to express myself through dance. Some of the most articulate people I have met are dancers. Setting the bar this low should not be something to aspire to. 

"It’s easy to date a girl who dances. Give her ibuprofen in bulk for her birthday"

For the record, I prefer M&Ms and chewing gum. I can handle my own medical supplies thank you. 

"Look at her. Stare."

But actually, please don't. I prefer not to be objectified. Thanks. 

"Because she’s unreal. The human equivalent of a black cat, with that same mesmerizing and vaguely alarming quality in the way she slinks toward you."

Jesus. I am very real. I am not a fucking ethereal fairy thing. Side note, what about my slinky walk is alarming? The last thing I want to do when I am slinkying towards someone is alarm them. 

"Date a girl who dances because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who adores everything you do, every little thing about you...This is a woman who rehearses for weeks on end for maybe one minute onstage — do you think she does anything because it is easy?" 

That's right. Hey dancer, you thought this article would be about how great you are? Nope. It's about the other guy. He deserves you. You deserve...it's not in this article. Now go back to your slinking. This also suggests that the dancer is the one that puts all the energy into the relationship for very little payback. Do you really want that? 

"You want a girl who bites off more than she can chew because she is the most flexible, most sensitive, most ambitious, most big-hearted of the bunch." 

Well. I do happen to be pretty flexible. So if you're into that.

"You deserve a girl who doesn’t break easy, a girl who’s prepared for a bit of pain for the sake of of beauty."

Please God ladies, don't idolize pain in order to be beautiful. It's not healthy. Don't glorify pain in relationships either. 

"She’ll embody the ebb and flow of that tide between well-established vanity and soul-crushing insecurity" 

That's right, that triple pirouette makes you vain and soul-crushingly insecure. Best of both worlds really. 

The End. But Not Actually. 

Ok. That's the end of the article, but I have a few more general comments. 

Firstly, I get it. This is a buzzfeed article. It doesn't need to be politically correct. And if you read the article and identified with it or liked it, you do you. I'm not going to tell you how to feel about something (she says after finishing a very opinionated blog). But at the same time, when an article like this gets a lot of attention, we need to acknowledge what it says about dancers and women in our culture. By othering dancers as these mysterious, inarticulate, mentally unstable, non-human creatures we are creating a potentially dangerous standard if universalized. 

Also, this only addresses girls. And I understand that the title specifically implies this, but if you refer to "dancer" as only female, you're ignoring all the men and gender non-specified folks. They do exist.  For the record. 

*Before we end, I want to acknowledge that I'm throwing around words like "crazy" and "unstable" pretty casually. I want to be clear that I am not making a statement about mental illness. I have dealt with mental illness personally, with my family, and and among my friends and the topic itself needs more understanding an acceptance. But understanding and glorifying are two very different things. This article has a tone of glorifying this stigma of dancers as "crazy." And I don't like the stigma that creates for the community.

So yeah. Something to chew on. Mentally I guess. In response to this, I intend to write, "Date Me: A Dancer, The Un-universalized Take on Date A Girl Who Dances." Basically it will be the most self indulgent thing to grace the internet. 

May the 4th be with you. A day after the fact. 

Kaitlyn 

So NOTHING is getting done tonight.

I have my Women in Lit final tomorrow and I can tell you right now that there will be absolutely no studying for it. Unless you can count scrolling through the archives of the AfterEllen tumblr. I mean, gay lady stuff is sort of like feminism right? Absolutely right. 

After about an hour of that, I thought I'd throw a blog entry into the mix. This is basically me writing so I don't have to read anything. I'm realizing how much I enjoy writing as a form of expression. Now the delicate line of "how much should I really say about myself in the internet" needs to be more carefully monitored, but I think I have a good grasp on how far is too far. 

So I graduate in a week and a day.

I also nearly left my cap, gown, cords, and "you pulled off a high GPA" certificate in the Aldi packing area. This adequately demonstrates the responsibility with which I enter the adult world. 

Save for that anecdote, I have no actual idea where this blog is going. Hopefully you're reading this as some sort of study break so the lack of thoughtfulness and quality won't actually matter too much.   

Ok. So I love lists. And after a few paragraphs that all dead ended pretty quickly, lists seem like the answer. So yeah. That's what's going to happen here. 

List The First: My Plans Post Graduation. 

Because everyone asks and nobody knows. 

1. Continue paying rent, bills, grocery, and the occasional night out. All other monetary needs are negotiable. 

2. Do art. I know I said I was taking a break for the summer. And that is still the case mostly. Because a full time job is real important right now. I do not expect to get paid for art, but I sure as hell expect to keep doing it. 

3. Work full time somewhere. 

List The Second: Things I'm Scared About Post Graduation. 

1. Not seeing people. I tend to air on the side of hermit. I will actively combat this with every muscle in my body. 

2. Not dancing every week. Girl cannot afford to spend $20 a week on dance. Girl does not like that. 

              2.5 Not singing every week. Girl just got her head voice together. So. Much. Work. 

3. Not getting a full time job. I'm not going to elaborate. 

4. Having a full time job, but not being able to make time for art. 

5. Having a full time job, and artistic fulfillment, but not having time for people. 

6. Not having a upass. And never actually finding my bike pump. 

7. Global Warming. Real talk. 

8. Homelessness. Or living in Humbolt Park. The lack of public transit. Just. ahhhhhh. 

9. Contracting some incurable disease. Ok. we've crossed the line of rational fears. If left unchecked, this list could absolutely go on forever. 

MMMmmm done with the lists. And should maybe actually do some of my assigned readings. 

I also acknowledge the absolute garbageness of this entry. When I've slept more and find my feet firmly planted on the ground, I'll come up with some sentimental college years reflection type deal. But in the heat of it, this is all you're getting. 

A Long Overdue Blog About Eating

Remember that time I had that blog that I kept up with?

I feel like I've been putting off this blog just so I don't jinx it. But we are in the midst of a unit in my Women in Lit class and developmental psych class about eating disorders so I was feeling inspired to write this now. I set this goal for myself around Easter last year to take some time to undo some weird habits I have with food. For a full rundown of neurotic tendencies click the link labeled "health" on the sidebar and it'll take you to my previous (and apparently only) food blog. Summary: I felt like my mindset was on a treadmill and I was getting sick of the organization, but I didn't know how far I would fly if I just stopped running. How'd ya like that metaphor?

Here's the quick and dirty version of the goal list:

1. Stop weighing yourself every day.
2. Be accepting of how your body looks, and make any changes to it in a non-drastic, calm manner.
3. Stop counting calories
           A) Also, weight watchers points, rough guesses, categories of foods, and strict time rules are out as well. Same thing. Just don't.
4. Eat when you're hungry, don't eat when you're not hungry.

I'm sure this applies to more than just me because I've had a lot of discussions with my friends and family about exercise and nutrition. If you've been in the same boat I hope you get something out of this. If not feel free to scoff at my moderately self-congratulatory blog. I won't take offence.

Not weighing myself was easier than I thought it would be. For the first week or so I was a little freaked out because I had no way of monitoring any changes in weight (really? wow! is that how that works?). I measured my waist size every couple days just so I felt like I had something, but after a few months of that, I stopped after I had this realization about how body composition.

I'm basically a child and if I don't get to run around every couple days, I literally lose my shit (there's more swearing in this blog, just a heads up). So in the summer I run, and since I am in a loving relationship with my bike, I ride it everywhere. I lose muscle mass and slim out. During the school year my butt is confined to a desk most of the day, but I do get to take ballet class for nearly 5 hours a week. Apparently I have the muscle composition of a male gymnast (not upset about it) and bulk up immediately once I switch from cardio to strength training. This used to really wig me out because not only did I gain weight, but my ass got bigger and my clothes fit differently. I'm a small person. I'm not complaining. But anyone who gets neurotic about food knows that this matters.

Without having a concrete number, I changed my focus from how my body looked to what my body could do. And let me tell you, it made the whole pink tights black leotard ordeal easier to swallow. I can honestly say that I don't give a shit if I have a nice cushion of fluff over my abs. Because my abs can haul my legs all over the place, and since I eat before class I have SO MUCH ENERGY. It's literally the greatest I have ever felt.

Another thing, I actually started feeling "full" and "hungry" again. I don't know if this is anyone else's experience, but when I start dieting, I so carefully plan when and what I can eat that I don't really get hungry. Mostly I made myself eat at a certain point because I knew that I wasn't going to eat for the rest of the day or the next few hours or whatever. Eventually my body gave up on trying to cue me and just went along for the ride. This works well enough, but it's so much more satisfying to just eat what you want when you want to. I mean, sometimes I have to tell myself that eating half a bag (and I'm taking the giant ones) of M&Ms at midnight is not a good idea, but that's only because I know I'll feel like death after. Not because it's like 2000 calories.

This ^ pretty much negated the need to count calories. First grade taught me what healthy foods are. And I realized that when I eat a variety of foods (as opposed to all fruit all day and then pizza and chocolate at night...oh Weight Watchers...you know what I'm saying.) I feel so much better. I'm not bogged down by the digestive hell storm that is your lower intestines after a day of eating solely coffee and apples.

Secondary realization, I actually like working out. I've always loved dance, and didn't always explicitly look at it as a means to burn calories, but occasionally that's all it was. Again, by taking the focus off my perception of my thighs in a high cut leotard, I enjoyed the expression in the movement much more. Similar thing happened to running. Running releases endorphins. It's about as close to joyous childhood frolicking as I get in my day to day. It's so much easier to motivate a run when it's not just about the number of calories you're gonna burn.

Thirdly: Again, I don't want to speak for everyone, but when I'm trying to lose weight I compare myself to literally everyone. About half the time I'm confident that I'm the fattest person in the room always and forever, and the other half of the time, I'm scrutinizing the Victoria's Secret models for rolls. And like, what is that?! I mean, I'm typing it and it's ridiculous. I was so ashamed of this because it plays directly into our culture's unattainable standards of beauty. I knew rationally that bodies aren't supposed to look like the photos in magazines, but I couldn't apply it to actual humans. Fortunately, after I let myself off the hook, my external gaze shifted too. I am apprehensive to include this paragraph because I don't want my friends thinking that I was or still am or ever will look judgmentally on their figures. Because personally, I can never tell when people change weight. Like, you have to gain or lose an entire person before I'll notice.  But the above perception is real. It came up in all of the books I've been reading about body image in my women in lit class, so I'm taking that as my cue that I am not alone in this. When unhealthily rail thin is your ideal, it's easy to see how few actual bodies achieve it. And that is not a healthy way to look at yourself or other people. For obvious reasons. Yeah. Please let me know if you need clarification here. Because it's a controversial and uncomfortable point and I want to be sure I explained it clearly.

MMmmm we've already taken a turn from the light and fluffy, so might as well throw in the mis-steps here. About midway through first semester I was really stressed out and fell riiiight back into eating tons of food and then immediately trying to panic run it off, but that feels like death on wheels: End result - Very upset. Luckily I have a teacher who is very transparent about this stuff and she was incredibly helpful. Talking to her was the most honest I had ever been, and hearing that this is a legitimate issue that lots of people deal with made me feel oddly more comfortable with the whole thing. There were a couple rough weeks, but I eventually calmed down and refocused.

I'm not claiming this to be the final solution. If I've learned anything this year, it's that I personally cannot find some simple solution and be totally confident and healthy all the time. Even currently, I'm a weird eater. I still really like to measure things. On holidays that are centered around food I feel less anxious if I run in the morning. As some of it is that I like how I feel when I can eat a big meal after running, but I know that some of the motivation is coming from knowing how much I'll be eating later that day. And for now, I'm ok with that. This is progress, and I feel better thinking about an achieved goal of the process rather an a permanent victory.

So yeah. Thanks for reading my extensive self reflection. If you feel so inclined, post stuff in the comments. Or ambush me in real life, because I am pretty aware that like 99.8% of you are from facebook and I'm always down to chat about food and stuff.

Hm. Enjoy the warm weather for the foreseeable future. I mean, I wouldn't put it past Chicago to drop to a 32 degrees mid June, but as far as weather.com can alert me, we are in the clear.

Kait

On The Eve of The English Paper

Literally this is my night.

Kait (to myself, just to be clear): Ok girl, you need to write your English paper. Like right now. Shit's due tomorrow.

Ok, lets get some tunes happening *Kate Nash pandora*

KILLING IT WOMAN KILLING IT. Literally I love with all 5 stars ALL OF THESE SONGS

*In my excitement, 1/2 an hour goes by

"Ok dude. Let's refocus."

....after i check facebook.

...and read 3 buzzfeed articles of Valentines

God I'm so single. I mean perpetually... I'm going to message my single friends to eat baked goods and get boozy together

Ok well that's done. I feel better about my life.

Except that I still haven't written my paper.

Ok. Here we go. Got a paragraph done. Boom. THIS SONG. TEGAN AND SARA ACTUALLY COME UP ON THIS STATION MY LIFE IS SO HAPPY. I want to go to karaoke

*another half hour mysteriously passes

So clearly I cannot focus with majestic lady singers in the airwaves. I just need to close out of that tab

*Cue Regina's "Sampson."

*Weeping*

ugh.

Let's post a facebook status about how I'm procrastinating.

Better yet, BLOG cause it kills more time.

And that's where I'm at.

I am Graduating College

And I am super ready to go. Also super terrified, but mostly feeling like my formal education expiration date has passed. Honestly, it's not because I'm sick of going to class or doing homework or seeing my friends every day. I really like all of those things and I fully intend on continuing to read psychology textbooks for fun. I mean, the DSM updates every 10 years or so. I'm set for life.

Funny related story before this goes into vulnerable future thoughts. I've always had this weird drive to be totally self sufficient. (*Disclaimer: I'm definitely not advocating that I have the responsibility or organization necessary for any of this, my procrastination and naivete is proof enough for that) I remember thinking how cool it would be to be like a robot that could just dig inside myself and do everything needed to sustain life without help. In retrospect, this explains a lot about my perpetual state of introverted. Huh.

Funny story though! At some point between the formation of my earliest memories and my 4th birthday, I decided that I would take control of when I ate and drank. I was only toddling that that point, so getting my own food wasn't exactly an option. But I worked with what I had and decided that I would drink half my bottle of milk, and then hide it from my parents so I could go back and finish it on my own schedule. Being like 2.3 feet tall, my options were limited. So I chose to hide my milk behind the toilet in our first floor bathroom. This went on for several weeks before my mom caught be drinking curdled milk behind the toilet. Nothing says "your child might develop a control related anxiety disorder in their mid teens" quite like catching your 3 year old daughter drinking curdled toilet milk.

That was a lot of personal right there. And there's more coming, so brace yourself.

Since my toddlerhood, I have developed more practical ways of demonstrating some form of independence, but I can't shake the feeling that at 22 I'm still not doing enough. In some societies people are functioning as adults at 16. Plenty of high school graduates start contributing full time at 18. I attribute my sense of guilt to Loyola's Jesuit trickery. I spent 4 years here recognizing how extraordinarily privileged I am and how much I need to help the world, and now I have to sit in classes waiting to have enough time to do it! This whole "set the world on fire" business is starting to make sense. Metaphorically, I'm not plotting arson. Spending some 25 hours a week sitting in a classroom is making me feel like I'm just treading water. Not to mention the 4ish hours every night I'm doing homework. I'm so sick of giving employers my useless availability. I'm supporting myself on a work study job (one that I actually really love and has given me skills and connections that will help me so much after college), but I feel like I owe society so much more than I'm actually putting into it. I am incredibly grateful for the education I've been lucky enough to receive, but when I look at campaigns like Girl Rising and Teach For America I feel guilty about being 22 and still spending the majority of my time sitting in a classroom.

Then there's theatre. I've pretty much signed my soul to Dionysus, with no regrets. I believe that theatre and the arts have a communal nature that, makes us think about other people's perspectives, is an incredibly cathartic emotional outlet, and can really make a positive change in the world. Problem being, "Art" rarely reaches the people who need it most. On a broad strokes level, art only reaches those who are wealthy enough to afford it and members of the community itself. Not that I don't love a good dose of "for artists by artists" industry nights, nor do I discredit their importance to the artistic community as a whole, but it scares me that I'm spending so much money on an education to go into a field that primarily entertains upper or upper middle class affluent cultural white folks. The lack of diversity that I observe among audience members of some really great theatre leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Save for the price of tickets, so much of it ties back to arts education. Every time my district ran out of money, they cut arts funding. Not bashing sports or other extra curriculars, but can we as a society please stop taking the arts away from people who really need them? The arts have made such a difference in my life and I want to expose everyone to that same positive experience.

That was an unexpected passionate little bunny trail. And I think that's pretty much the end of what I want to say about this.

Take home point: I probably don't have my shit together enough to actually be an adult but I'm past ready to try.

Thoughts? I can't be the only senior chomping at the bit to be done right?

I'm digging this pattern of "uncomfortably real blog" followed by "funny asshole stories from my life." So if this wasn't your cup of tea, the next one might be. Hopefully you at least enjoyed the self deprecating toilet milk story. Because in a narcissistic way, I think its hysterical.

Wooooof, as you were. Personally, I am going to edit and English paper and continue reading (literally) my entire developmental psychology book.

Kaitlyn

Fake it Till ya Make it.

I've allotted myself a 20 minute break from my Ethics paper to tell you a funny story. LEGGO.

So I sing in the choir at church sometimes. Last Sunday, I was doing that and at 5 minutes till the beginning of mass the cantor still hadn't showed up. So I was all like, "I've cantored before, I can totes fill in till she shows up."

So the choir director handed me an ipad (mistake #1) with that mass's music on it and I headed to the alter. As the lights were coming up to begin mass, the choir director messaged me on the iPad instructions for the psalm if I ended up getting that far. I figured I'd shoot him a quick reply to let him know I saw the message. However, when I clicked to reply to his message, it closed me out of the mass setting.

So like any proper 80 year old woman does, I panicked and hit every button. The priest was in the sacristy waving at me to start the mass and I just kept pointing at the tablet making a hopeless face. I finally got the thing to work, jumped up to the pulpit, read the invitation to mass, and began the opening song.

This is where it gets rough.

I made it through the refrain alright, but when I looked at the verses, I realized that they were written in this weird format that I couldn't quite follow.

So I made up the words.

Basically I took chunks from each random verse and sang them out of order with no regard to sentence structure or musical line.

It sounded something like this:
"In the valley of my soul Lord / forever and ever amen / to my heart"

or

"Jesus lead the people Israel to the / forever hallelujah sing his / sheep's and shepherds in my heart"

Steve would hold a chord when I had reached the end of a line, so there were these awkward gaps in singing. Then Steve would give up trying to figure out what I was doing and I took the opportunity to riff out a longer sequence of non sequitor verse chunks.

At one point I looked out and saw this group of students trying to follow what I was singing in the hymnals.

Mostly I acted like nothing was wrong and just continued to make up stuff until the song was over. At that point the cantor had arrived, so I chucked her the pad and headed back to the choir loft.

I had a blast. Looking forward to hijacking another formalized singing situation in the future.

As you were.

Peace out.

I Graduate In 3 Months.

*Vomits everywhere*

Hey there geckos. (I think I'm just going to start using animals as gender neutral crowd addresses. Like "hey cats" or "what up dog." It'll eventually appear normal.)

So it's been a while. I've been getting back to school, settling in to my last semester of college, and trying to figure out what I'm going to do when I'm out in May. If I'm being perfectly honest (which I am because this is the internet and everything is unquestionably true) today is the first day since December that I didn't have a quarter life crisis over graduating college.

I know that every newly minted "adult" goes through this, whether its graduating high school or college or whatever form of education you manage to keep yourself in past your mid teen years. Last semester I was checked out and ready to go, but now that I'm actually getting close, I've lost all drive to do adult things and have regressed to this directionless little life form that after 3 minutes of googling job apps ends up on facebook (seemingly by default) out of fear of not having my ducks in a row.

That's over dramatic, I know. But you have to understand, I was the kid who panicked when my mom moved the green recliner (that I never sat in) to a different corner of the room. Literally "world crashing down around me" type reaction to the unexpected rearrangement of furniture. This is probably comparable to moving thousands of chairs (all different colors) all over my small three bedroom apartment.

Also I'm going into theatre. So my job is basically to emote.

BUT TODAY was a five star day and I started to figure my shit out. And I think that's worth sharing.

So I'm taking a too good for words class about feminist (read: oppressed/minorities) critique of theatre. It is glorious. Consistently the best 2 hours of my Tuesday/Thursdays. Never did I think my passion for feminist discourse and theatre would collide, but they have and I am loving every minute of it. I could seriously go for days about this class, I'm realizing more about who I am as a person and what I can contribute to theatre, and learning about all these kick ass humans making kick ass theatre that is so powerful and new and breaks down all the barriers that I have questioned my entire life and this sentence is already too long so I'm just going to cut myself off here.

There are internships available in Chicago and elsewhere that involve dramaturgical type research for queer and feminist theatre companies. I want to do that.

Also, I'm really getting into Shakespeare. I still think its the hardest stuff I've ever read, and I still need so much practice, but I'm welcoming the challenge rather than sparknoting the plays and accepting sub-par acting. Which I've totally never done, ever. Also lots of people produce shakespeare. Sometimes with all ladies. Shakespeare + gender bending = Yes.

Also, I'm taking this class about women in literature. While I have lots to say about how the class is taught, I'm so into the styles of novels we're reading Its this first person, episodic, semi autobiographical fiction. I could write that stuff. So I'm going to write that stuff.

Also, today I went to a dialogue about queer folks in religion. Again, totally my jam. I would love to work with some organizations that help the LGBT community. Any marginalized community actually, but currently I'm most involved with this one.

So this is nice. For a while there I was afraid I had lost interest in literally all things. But there are three "also's" up there, so I guess I'm not doing so bad.

I just need to breathe. I tend to schedule myself within an inch of needing to warp time. While down time generally makes me anxious, I think its a good thing right now. I want to try a lot of new things. And that takes some time. So I'm taking advantage of my good mood to update my blog and assure you that I haven't fallen off the face of the planet.

I hope this wasn't the stereotypical "recent grad freak out" blog. I tried to avoid cliches. But I'm also living some cliches right now, so its tough to avoid. If ya didn't like it, I mean, I like to think I keep this thing pretty varied. And I have some good ideas for future posts that are a little less self centered. So that's fun!

Enjoy this balmy 20 degree weather we're having and I'll probably be writing again soon,

Kait

Ringing in the New Year (Part II)

Friends, Romans, Countrymen:

So this never got posted yesterday. In part due to the whole bed bug situation, but I'm not going to lie, most of the blame goes to the fermentation process of yeast and sugar. Certainly not in regards to my choices with said substances. But really, who limps through the entire next day. I left my tolerance in 2012. Anyway. 

New Years Resolutions 2014

1. Keep up with paperwork. 

I'm the worst person when it comes to getting my stuff in on time. Be it homework, job applications, the occasional bill, I procrastinate like its my job. And I enter "the real world" in a few months, so this is probably a good time to start being responsible. 

2. Stop apologizing. 

The other day I walked into a chair and apologized to it. I really don't like conflict so I'm generally the first person to give up my position in an argument to make everyone else happy. Chronic doormat. Which leads to me being grumpy and passive aggressive. I'll just start being normal aggressive. I had a sibling, I'm well versed in "conflict resolution. 

3. Finish my sentences.

I have this tendency to start talking, quickly transition to rambling, and then just trail off the end of a thought because I'm sure no one is listening. Generally people are listening. But if I expect them to stop listening, they do. This sounds so sulky, I don't want this to sound sulky. I'm not sulking! I'm the opposite of sulking. I'm GOAL SETTING. That's mighty progressive I dare say. Mighty progressive. 

4. Fully Commit. 

I'm much more comfortable tip toeing, but I need people to know that I have more chutzpah than that.  

5. Stop walking pigeon toed

Cause my feet turn out naturally. And when I do it, it doesn't quite have that feminine effect that it does with models in shoe ads. But it does make me look like I have to take a dump. You know what I'm saying? You know what I'm saying. 

2-5 are all kindof hitting the same thing from different angles. Onward. 

6. Stop buzzing all your hair off. 

I don't know why this is even on here. I'm admitting defeat a year in advance. 

I think that's it actually. I'm going with an achievable set of goals. And there they are. 

Happy New Year!

Kaitlyn