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.
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
Sunday, February 9, 2014
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
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
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
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.
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.
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