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

Acne.

Yo.

I'm going to complain about acne. And it's going to be gross. Not witty, not entertaining, Not even worth reading.

You've been warned.

So you know how every "normal" human starts getting zits around 13 or 14 and the developmental science literature tells you that they're gone by your "late teens?" Yeah, so I have pimples in my third grade school picture, I turn 22 this week and I am still covered in zits.

Nay, craters.

Except that I'm not joking. I had to excavate a cyst and it literally left a bruise, YES a bruise, the size of my thumbprint on my face. I have 4 more massive zits to wash, scrape, boil, and sanitize. I will look like I got in a bar fight by the time this whole process is done. And you know what? They. Will. Come. Back.

Make all the assumptions you want lovely skinned people. I wash my face 3 to 4 times a day, I don't touch my face, I ALWAYS have some sort of chemical on it. Yes, I've tried toothpaste, peroxide, Benzol peroxide, alcohol, every face wash ever invented ever, and as of three days ago, Proactive.

What I'm saying here is that I need to get my shit together and see a dermatologist. The typical visit involves me sitting in their room for a half hour while they look at my face. Then they tell me that I have acne.

WAIT WHAT? That's what that is? MIND IS BLOWN.

Then they tell me that I have lots of scars.

Really? Haven't noticed.

Then they tell me that half the zits on my face will leave scars.

Good. Great. Love it.

Now I can eat my words a little and admit that generally whatever concoction of goo they tell me to smear all over my face usually works pretty well.

But I'm still complaining tonight. Because my face hurts and looks like it got hit by a truck. Literally.

You're welcome.

Kait

So do you have any Siblings?

My heart hiccuped, I opened my mouth as if to answer, I nearly launched full throttle into a blog entry right then and there

But then I thought I should probs fill everyone in and give my typical intro. Because I like it.

Intro: Quote of the Day: "If a kid poops in his locker, I'm your girl!" Said by yours truly during a summer job interview. This may be why I am temporarily unemployed.

In honor of nothing particularly sacred, I feel it is time to share some pretty personal information with you blogsphere. Give yourself a pat on the back for leveling up.

Prologue: Subtitle - The cliff-notes of events of October 17th 2010. I had a younger brother, Nick. We were really close (but that's a post for another day) and he struggled with a lot of emotional problems (again, another day). On October 17th, 2010 he choked himself to death in our basement.

For more information about choking, here's this. http://www.gaspinfo.com/en/home.html. For the record, I am not in love with this website, but it's informational. And I'm completely comfortable talking about my brother/mental/emotional health issues. So hit me up. I didn't bring it up much freshman or sophomore year because I didn't want to be "that girl with the dead brother" so don't feel bad if this is the first time you're hearing about any of this. More on this in the future.


Back to my Narrative: 

I was getting a haircut the other day (I have so little hair now, it's glorious) and I was chatting away with the stylist. School, work, dating, the typical stuff. Then she told me a story about her sister and asked me if I had any siblings. I am completely comfortable talking about Nick, and his death, but still the subject has been tripping me up for the past three years.

Generally if a classmate or someone I'll be seeing frequently asks, I'll tell them that I had a younger brother but he died a few years ago. Though I've gotten a range of reactions, most people just say "ok" or "sorry" and leave it at that. Which is fine. Other people ask what happened. Also fine, but either way I feel like people are uncomfortable with the subject.

However, with people that I'm only with for a short time, I can't figure out how to navigate the subject. I am not an only child. I still consider myself a sister even though my counterpart currently resides 2 states over and 6 feet under. Being a sister was such a huge part of my identity and I'm not willing to let that go on a technicality. I mean, I tell stories about him all the time.

There's a line though. Stories are fine if you're acknowledging that they were in the past. Even then, sometime's I'll tell a story about Nick and then someone will ask how old he is... Do I say the age he was at the time of the story? Or 16? Or that he would be 19? Or dead? Is dead even an age? Plus who wants to think about dead brothers when you're in the middle of a chat about spraying pepper spray in your eye to test it (true story)? I mean, if I'm bringing up my brother, I'm already aware of the dead part, but I don't want to bring down the whole room.

When the stylist asked me if I had any siblings, I said "Yes, I have a brother. He's 16." Then I proceeded to talk about him as if he were still alive and it was 2 years ago. I have never tried this response before and I have mixed reviews. It was simple enough because I avoided the sometimes uncomfortable conversation of his death and I didn't have to deny ever having a sibling. Seems like a win win.

Only not really though. He only made it a few months into his sophomore year. So to talk about what he would be up to now (even as a sophomore) I had to make up his reaction to finals, summer break, summer jobs, friends, music, everything. It felt fake. I don't like it.

So then what? I don't like saying that I'm an only child. Cause I'm not. And I don't want to bring up that I have a dead sibling to someone I'm never going to see again. Because, comfortable as I am talking about him, not everyone is. Plus I don't want to bring up any losses they've experienced if they don't want to focus on them. And will only work for so long. I mean, I can only have a 16 year old brother for a decade more at most. At some point math gets involved and it doesn't make sense.

I have yet to come to a conclusion. So instead I shared my innermost private thoughts with the internet. You're welcome.


Well that pretty much wraps it up. I'm sorry this (hopefully) doesn't apply to anything that's happening in your life. I wish I could find a way to make this more applicable than a personal reflection that I've just spilled to the internet. Uhmmm I guess this would be akin to getting asked about a relationship after you've broken up? Similar feelings? But way different and less permanent? Meh, do with that what you will.

I don't really know what to say about this one. I'm not sorry for writing it but I can't do my usual "hope you enjoyed" or "hope this made you laugh." Isn't exactly fitting ... I guess "Hope this didn't put too much of a damper on your Monday but thanks for reading?"

Whatever.

Silver lining: Now that this is out in the open, I have free range to blog about my crazy sibling adventures. Which were pretty excellent. Expect that soon. Also I have an opening to publishing my handbook of "How to survive what might have been the suicide of your sibling without jumping off a bridge yourself, the Kaitlyn Dessoffy story" to the blog world.

I shit you not, I've been drafting it.

There is literally nothing left to say about this but I feel compelled to keep writing.

Probably because I told myself that I'd go running when this post was finished. Yeah, I bet that's it.

Anyway.

GO RUN.

yeah. that's what's happening.

Have a good day internet world! Enjoy your new found freedom college students! High schoolers, the end is in sight! People with normal jobs (really putting off this running now) keep on truckin! People without jobs I feel your pain! Me too!

This is like finding the death of a moment in movement class when it's just not gonna happen. If you've made it this far you're a champ.

Just go for a run girl. You got this. Ok.

Peace out home skillets,

Kaitlyn

Consider this that love note I never wrote cause I'm not square. Wait, who am I kidding, love notes are not square. Well I mean, they're literally square, maybe more rectangular...

This is really just a quick thought. Mostly because it's 12:15 and I have a 9:30 class tomorrow.

I don't really buy into the concept of God putting people in people's lives for a reason. Than again, I don't really buy into the concept of God, at least not the puppet master, all knowing, personal guide to the universe version I learned in PSR. Any other PSR kids by the by? I feel like most of ya'll went to Catholic school and therefore were protected from the horror that is an additional 2 hours of Monday added onto your Monday simply so you could receive your sacraments.

First world Catholic youth problems.

Anyway

when I look around, I realize how lucky I am to have met the people I am friends with. I think my personality is just the type where I would literally do nothing until provoked. I've always used the analogy of being a fly on the wall of life. Kindof like a wallflower, only not as dainty, faster, and has bitchin' technical maneuvers.

I need to stop segwaying or this will literally never get finished. Did you know that spell check auto corrects segway" to "nosegay"? How is "segway" not a word but "nosegay" is? ohhh it's because segue is spelled differently from segway. On that subject, I need to start segwaying, it looks like a great form of non-exercise and public humiliation.

...maybe I should get tested...ADD is an actual thing...

OK. Bottom line: To the humans in my life: Thank you for being awesome. I love that you are open about things because I have a lot of walls up. Seeing you be so fearlessly honest makes me feel like the world will not crumble to the ground should I decide to crawl out of my shell. If you're not one of my super open, extroverted friends, no fear, I still love you. Quiet kid solidarity for the win. But really guys. I feel like I don't say this enough, I love and appreciate all of you. Thank you for just being [insert winning adjective that my 12:40 brain can't think of]. Does my lack of an adjective cheapen the fact that I've just complimented NO MORE TANGENTS KAITLYN, GO TO BED.

I'm not schizophrenic I swear.

Good night. Sleep well. Pat yourself on the back for being flawless.

Kaitlyn

Why Cleveland Doesn't Suck THAT Bad.

Aloha!

Wouldn't that be a cool greeting if I was blogging from Hawaii? I'm not.

Being from Cleveland is pretty solid ammunition to win almost any "my hometown sucks worse than your hometown" discussion. Our river was so polluted it caught on fire, we have a higher crime rate than New York, and our sports teams...well... anyway. And being from Parma, might be worse. Clevelander's know what I'm getting at here. If you're unfamiliar, might I suggest: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N3oTCatzz7A. (Parts of this are filmed mere blocks from my house.)

And I am proud of that shit. All of it. Cleveland's burning rivers, Parma with our lack of contraceptives,

Here's why:

1. Pierogies. It wasn't until recently that I discovered not everyone eats these. My only question: Why God why? Parma is kindof the Mecca of Pierogies. And you haven't lived until you've eaten a Prune one. Don't knock it till you try it...then find a bathroom. quick.

2. This: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oZzgAjjuqZM&NR=1&feature=endscreen Hilarity.

3. Both Cleveland and Parma have a wicked sense of self deprecating humor (see above). No one is proud of Cleveland. No one brags about their crazy weekend getting robbed at the Rock Hall to out of town relatives. And through that humble shame, we crank out hysterical youtube videos. I like a city that can laugh at itself.

4. The Boar's Head and Yule Log Festival. I did it this year (see facebook for documentation). You dress in Medieval garb and do a mystery play. There is also a sing along of the Hallelujah Chorus. They seriously hand out the score and the whole church just kinda wings it. It. is. awesome. And SO LOUD!

5. I was riding my bike down Broadview the other day and passed a car parts store that literally sings at you as you drive on by. I don't think people notice it (because they're in their cars), but it was awesome enough to distract me into almost getting caught in the death trap canyon between the sidewalk and the grass.

6. Parma is the middle of middle class. It's the only city where the mean household income per street incrementally increases from North to South.

7. We are so middle class in fact, that we set the benchmark of middle class hood. When companies need to find out what the average Joe thinks about anything, they survey Parma. We are the most average of the average. And that makes us first in something! And that, my friends, is pretty fancy.

8. Pink flamingos and chrome balls in people's yards.

9. Our constant effort to be cultural. Parma is pretty homogeneous. So why not celebrate all that light European-ness with Polish and Ukrainian Villiage? And those signs of JP2? Weird. I don't understand.

10. Driving down State Rd: Bowling, Pizza, Bar, Church, Repeat. The only street you'll ever need.

11. My family lives here. And we are a fantastic group of humans. 'nuff said.

12. Our sports teams suck more than industrial strength vacuums, and people still go to games. Maybe it's brainwashing. Maybe Jacob's field has magical powers. I'm seriously leaning towards the latter. Either way, way to go Cleveland fans. A+ for dedication.

13. Living in Cleveland means you're living in a regional inside joke. What I'm trying to get across is that Cleveland has so many gems (Trinity Cathedral, Coventry, Lake Erie) that everyone uses, but no one brags about. I know it sounds weird, but I love how humble Cleveland is. It's cool without knowing it's cool. So it's hipster.

I'm gonna leave you with that.

Aloha, (I wish all greetings were interchangeable the way "aloha" is)

Kaitlyn