Alright then.
So every time I log onto my computer, I have these little pings of guilt for not writing any pride blogs. I see that I am one day closer to the end of pride month and my blog has yet to reflect the insane amount of gay stuff I have done in the past few weeks.
To name a few:
1) I have nearly all of Tegan and Sara's albums and have listened to them top to bottom. It's been my running soundtrack. Thus my runs have been extra angsty this month. Thank you Sara Augustinas for facilitating this.
2) Went to Pride Fest. Saw some great drag. Enjoyed myself immensely.
3) Priced out rainbow suspenders.
4) Watched the first 3 episodes of "The Fosters" and then read the recaps on afterellen.
5) Realized that I have rehearsal during the parade. Wept. Quickly formulated a plan to haul ass from Willmette to Boystown decked out in said suspenders in under an hour to catch the tail end of the parade. Or at least the after party.
So writing this blog kinda feels like I'm beating a dead horse. Not to mention, there are so many LGBTQIA (it's a mouthful, I know, but I'm gonna keep using it.) resources out there that basically share my perspective. Really I'm trying to debate how best to blog about this without repeating what you can read by simply googling "LGBTQIA."
So I'm going to take the personal angle on this first one. I say first because I want to write more about LGBTQIA specific issues, but I feel like I should get everyone on the same page first. I think the best way to do this is to tell some silly coming out stories. With a more serious wrap up. So if nothing more, skip the funny stuff and read my last paragraph. Cool? Cool.
Leggo.
Kaitlyn Stumbles Out of the Closet and Tells You all the Faux Pas that Followed.
1. Come on Already. This is definitely my preferred method of alerting people that I'm into girls. The key to this one was to drop as many hints as you possible can without actually coming out and saying you're gay. For example, I made it a habit of selecting the gayest looking outfits, hairstyles, conversation topics, etc to bring to every family function. I have like a 6 for 7 stereotype ratio that must be filled. If a Christmas spent in combat boots, flannel, spiked hair, impractically short nails doesn't scream "RAINBOW" I don't know what does.
2. Kay Byeeeeeeeee. Another wimpy way to come out of the closet. Did this one with my parents. I was in town for a weekend. Told um Sunday night 4 hours before my bus left. They, of course, were totally fine with it. Nothing says, "I'm comfortable with my sexuality" like throwing it at someone and running five hours away :)
3. Party Foul. This is my second favorite story. I was at a party with some coworkers last summer, most of whom I was not out to. One particularly attractive gentleman was pretty drunk and started hitting on me. I had just closed a run of CATS and was in no mood to flirt so when asked if he could kiss me instead of saying, "Nope" or "don't feel like it" or "too tired" I went for "I'm gay." Shouted it nice and loud above the music. As luck would have it, mili-seconds before the words left my mouth the song ended and it got nice and quiet. Really this should not have been as embarrassing as it was for me, but the coincidence was just too much.
4. The Greatest Moment of My Life. This is my actual favorite story. Came out to one of my closest college friends literally seconds after she came out to me. I think time actually slowed down. We spent the next two hours discussing crushes, coming out stories, and how thrilled we were that we had someone else going through the same stuff.
5. YOU'RE WHAT? I hate this so much. And I'm sure I've done this to other people. And I apologize. But when someone comes out to you and you look at them like they've suddenly sprouted another head, it's really awkward.
6. 20 Questions. I get that gay stuff is sometimes unfamiliar to people. I was completely uninformed until I started doing some research a few years ago. So it's normal to have questions. It's not normal to ask personal questions. Questions are great when appropriate. I love answering questions about gender, orientation, community, sex stuff, whatever. But for the love of God don't ask me about my personal sexual experiences if you just met me. I mean, come on now. When is that ever appropriate. Literally never.
Ok here's The Takeaway. In my experience, the best people to come out to (also the best allies) are people who have gay friends. Close. Gay. Friends. (did you pick up the emphasis there?) Both men and women. It's 2013, you will not be publicly stoned for being a straight person in a gay establishment. You don't know everything about the gay community if you ate lunch last week with that lesbian in your office or you went shopping with your gay best friend (I'm sorry, I almost gagged on the stereotype but I'm trying to prove a point). If we're going to stop gay bullying, transphobia, marriage inequality, etc, everyone needs to get more informed. I know it's asking a lot, but acceptance and tolerance are not enough. Not enough to make actual change anyway. I think friendship is the way in here. Make some gay friends. *Note, not token gay friends, actual friends.
Pride is this weekend guys. Wink wink nudge nudge.
With that, Happy Pride! Wish me luck in my biking like 15 miles at top speed to catch the parade! I hope you all celebrate too.
Kait
Sunday, June 23, 2013
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Not. Sleeping.
Hello. Kaitlyn reporting for duty from a delusional 12:59 in the am of tomorrow.
Quote of the day: "This is a stupid idea, Mt. Dew at 10pm... gonna drink it anyway."
AND HERE WE ARE. Hello 1am. I would really love to sleep. But I am way too awake for that. So instead, I'm writing. Actually, this one is really your loss because I'm not a "well rested" awake, I'm a chemically awake. So my brain isn't actually functioning high enough to compose anything worth reading, but it's way too strung out to sleep.
Ugh. I shouldn't even publish this, but I think it's going to happen.
So. Here is a list of my activities and musings I've had whilst trying to get my brain to chill out long enough for me to slip into unconsciousness.
Butter. Actually, this was a pre "I should go to bed" activity. My roommate and I watched this movie called "Butter." And it is awesome. It's literally a parody comedy about a butter carving contest. Also Olivia Wilde plays a hooker. So there's that.
Hunger Games. I never have time to read. Now I do. So I've been reading the Hunger Games series. I recommend it. On the second book. So good. Read that for an hour or so.
Sexual Intelligence. The title of an awful sexumentary I "watched" on hulu. By "watched" I mean skipped around because it was uncomfortable and hosted by someone who was apparently on Sex and the City. Never liked the show. That's a lie, never watched the show. But watched the movies. And hated them passionately. And vocally.
Evangelism. This is a non-sequitor after my Hunger Games reading. I went into my purse to get something to spit my gum into and came across what I can only describe as a bible spark note that I received from an angry man with a mean sign on Halstead a few weeks ago. This got me thinking about Evangelical Christianity. As someone who has not been saved, I have lots of questions on the matter. Like how can you be so sure? And why would God only save the western Christians? What about the Native Americans? So many of my ideas about spirituality come from Native American stories my parents read to me when I was little. This doesn't make me wrong. or right. But it does make me angry that this notion of being saved is not accessible to everyone. Like why would God try to save the entire world, but leave off a whole continent that no one knew existed? Also, are there any people who have been "Saved" and then...un-saved? Is that a thing? Do they just stop "feelin' it?" Are there people who try really really really hard to be saved but it just never happens for them? Or do they fake it? I could see someone faking it or convincing themselves they'd been saved when God was really just like, "nope, haven't figured it out yet..try harder." Is the nature of being saved an actual thing or is it just a psychological state? Are certain people pre-disposed to being saved? Does it run in families? Is it genetic? Or is it more of a "nurture" thing? Is it appropriate to ask people about this very personal, profound spiritual experience? I don't want to offend anyone but I'm so curious as to what it's all about.
I don't want that paragraph to attach any connotations to Christians. And I'm sorry if this is reading one way or another. It just blows my mind that there's a group of people who have all shared this religious experience. I just want to know way more about it. Like I want to know everything there is to know about Christianity.
Maybe I should read the bible. I just felt entire congregations of people's eye's roll. Don't judge me till you've read my book of Native American creation stories. Then we can talk.
Gay Stuff. Mostly because this is generally where my brain goes after mulling over Christianity. Also because the guy that gave me the sparknotes bible was hot and bothered about the gays on Halstead. Most of this concerns what I want to blog about for pride month. Here's my ideas:
A) The exclusivity of (as I've deemed it) the "Queer Vocabulary." Why I love it and hate it.
B) The "Second Puberty" phenomenon.
C) Feminism. Whatever that means.
D) How angry I am at gay people when they hate Christians, and how angry I get at Christians when they hate gay people. Or don't support gay marriage in the legal sense. Legal sense. Separation of church and state. I can't make a coherent argument for it now, but sometime this month I will.
The Pride!!! Cause I'm seeing it tomorrow. And I've heard it's really intense. And I love really intense theatre.
How psyched I am to go home this weekend. Cause I haven't seen my extended fam in a few months. And it's due time. Also, to run with my dad and recap the Tony's with my mom. And to see my friends. Cause I miss them.
Nervous. This is just what happens when I know I should be asleep but I can't sleep.
Blogging! "I am super bored, and super want to be tired, and feel like writing. But nothing of actual substance, just thoughts." - Kaitlyn at approx 12:57am.
And here we are. I have produced possibly the most worthless blog entry in the history of the world? And that's really saying something because this is the internet, and there is some awful stuff out there.
uh alright. I'm sorry about the shoddy quality of my recent blogs. I'm 99% sure that my next entry will be my queer vocab blog. And that will be good. And worth reading. Bare with me. Or is it Bear with me? No, bear with me would be like telling someone to be a bear and be with me. Nope, just googled it, it's bear with me. Bare with me would be an invitation to take your clothes off.
I mean, we could do that too.
Good God. If this shows up when people google me, I will be really sad.
Ok. I should try to sleep. Better blog soon. I promise. I'm organizing my thoughts on the queer vocab. Stay tuned.
Kait.
Quote of the day: "This is a stupid idea, Mt. Dew at 10pm... gonna drink it anyway."
AND HERE WE ARE. Hello 1am. I would really love to sleep. But I am way too awake for that. So instead, I'm writing. Actually, this one is really your loss because I'm not a "well rested" awake, I'm a chemically awake. So my brain isn't actually functioning high enough to compose anything worth reading, but it's way too strung out to sleep.
Ugh. I shouldn't even publish this, but I think it's going to happen.
So. Here is a list of my activities and musings I've had whilst trying to get my brain to chill out long enough for me to slip into unconsciousness.
Butter. Actually, this was a pre "I should go to bed" activity. My roommate and I watched this movie called "Butter." And it is awesome. It's literally a parody comedy about a butter carving contest. Also Olivia Wilde plays a hooker. So there's that.
Hunger Games. I never have time to read. Now I do. So I've been reading the Hunger Games series. I recommend it. On the second book. So good. Read that for an hour or so.
Sexual Intelligence. The title of an awful sexumentary I "watched" on hulu. By "watched" I mean skipped around because it was uncomfortable and hosted by someone who was apparently on Sex and the City. Never liked the show. That's a lie, never watched the show. But watched the movies. And hated them passionately. And vocally.
Evangelism. This is a non-sequitor after my Hunger Games reading. I went into my purse to get something to spit my gum into and came across what I can only describe as a bible spark note that I received from an angry man with a mean sign on Halstead a few weeks ago. This got me thinking about Evangelical Christianity. As someone who has not been saved, I have lots of questions on the matter. Like how can you be so sure? And why would God only save the western Christians? What about the Native Americans? So many of my ideas about spirituality come from Native American stories my parents read to me when I was little. This doesn't make me wrong. or right. But it does make me angry that this notion of being saved is not accessible to everyone. Like why would God try to save the entire world, but leave off a whole continent that no one knew existed? Also, are there any people who have been "Saved" and then...un-saved? Is that a thing? Do they just stop "feelin' it?" Are there people who try really really really hard to be saved but it just never happens for them? Or do they fake it? I could see someone faking it or convincing themselves they'd been saved when God was really just like, "nope, haven't figured it out yet..try harder." Is the nature of being saved an actual thing or is it just a psychological state? Are certain people pre-disposed to being saved? Does it run in families? Is it genetic? Or is it more of a "nurture" thing? Is it appropriate to ask people about this very personal, profound spiritual experience? I don't want to offend anyone but I'm so curious as to what it's all about.
I don't want that paragraph to attach any connotations to Christians. And I'm sorry if this is reading one way or another. It just blows my mind that there's a group of people who have all shared this religious experience. I just want to know way more about it. Like I want to know everything there is to know about Christianity.
Maybe I should read the bible. I just felt entire congregations of people's eye's roll. Don't judge me till you've read my book of Native American creation stories. Then we can talk.
Gay Stuff. Mostly because this is generally where my brain goes after mulling over Christianity. Also because the guy that gave me the sparknotes bible was hot and bothered about the gays on Halstead. Most of this concerns what I want to blog about for pride month. Here's my ideas:
A) The exclusivity of (as I've deemed it) the "Queer Vocabulary." Why I love it and hate it.
B) The "Second Puberty" phenomenon.
C) Feminism. Whatever that means.
D) How angry I am at gay people when they hate Christians, and how angry I get at Christians when they hate gay people. Or don't support gay marriage in the legal sense. Legal sense. Separation of church and state. I can't make a coherent argument for it now, but sometime this month I will.
The Pride!!! Cause I'm seeing it tomorrow. And I've heard it's really intense. And I love really intense theatre.
How psyched I am to go home this weekend. Cause I haven't seen my extended fam in a few months. And it's due time. Also, to run with my dad and recap the Tony's with my mom. And to see my friends. Cause I miss them.
Nervous. This is just what happens when I know I should be asleep but I can't sleep.
Blogging! "I am super bored, and super want to be tired, and feel like writing. But nothing of actual substance, just thoughts." - Kaitlyn at approx 12:57am.
And here we are. I have produced possibly the most worthless blog entry in the history of the world? And that's really saying something because this is the internet, and there is some awful stuff out there.
uh alright. I'm sorry about the shoddy quality of my recent blogs. I'm 99% sure that my next entry will be my queer vocab blog. And that will be good. And worth reading. Bare with me. Or is it Bear with me? No, bear with me would be like telling someone to be a bear and be with me. Nope, just googled it, it's bear with me. Bare with me would be an invitation to take your clothes off.
I mean, we could do that too.
Good God. If this shows up when people google me, I will be really sad.
Ok. I should try to sleep. Better blog soon. I promise. I'm organizing my thoughts on the queer vocab. Stay tuned.
Kait.
Not a Gay Blog.
It's June.
June is pride month.
For my confused (pun) readers, "pride" as in "gay pride". month.
Soooo I have to write a gay blog.
I mean I don't have to, but I'm going to.
But THIS is not that blog.
THIS (I'm diggin the caps) is a reminder to myself to actually write a gay blog.
I have lots of ideas.
From the personal to the political.
Or I could go all Carol Hanisch (No parenthetical explanation here, google her) on you.
Chicago Pride Festival is the 22-23. Expect something around then.
Or maybe I'll just do a whole series of queer blogs leading up to it.
It's gonna be good.
And far less fragmented than this post.
The End.
Kaitlyn
June is pride month.
For my confused (pun) readers, "pride" as in "gay pride". month.
Soooo I have to write a gay blog.
I mean I don't have to, but I'm going to.
But THIS is not that blog.
THIS (I'm diggin the caps) is a reminder to myself to actually write a gay blog.
I have lots of ideas.
From the personal to the political.
Or I could go all Carol Hanisch (No parenthetical explanation here, google her) on you.
Chicago Pride Festival is the 22-23. Expect something around then.
Or maybe I'll just do a whole series of queer blogs leading up to it.
It's gonna be good.
And far less fragmented than this post.
The End.
Kaitlyn
Monday, June 3, 2013
So I haven't started my summer job quite yet
And I'm bored out of my mind. If you haven't gathered from knowing me as a human outside of online, I'm really awful at relaxing and enjoying indeterminably long spans of time without scheduled activities. Like this one. 2 weeks at the most. Antsy.
So antsy that I nearly started to pen my ongoing love/appreciation letter to Sara Quin. Hopefully blogging will keep me from fangirl-ing out, at least for a few days. Not making any promises. Oh but sweet Jesus it feels like there is nothing to blog about! I like to focus my blogs on whatever specific topic is occupying most of my brain synapses, but right now I don't have a unified topic. That said, there's been plenty of interesting things happening in my neck of the woods, so I guess I can sum that up for ya.
I don't want this to bore you though, SO I have just now decided that it would be fun to write this in storybook form. With clever titles to guide you through the events of the past month. :)
Ch. The First: No Pants!
So my job this summer, aside from whatever stitching jobs I can pick up (wink wink nudge nudge any Chicago theatre professionals who find themselves reading this) I'm going to be cleaning lockers and helping organize classrooms at an Orthodox Jewish school nearby.
Funny story. I went in for my interview with the tried and true "wear what you would wear on the job to the interview." For me, this was a nice t-shirt and my bright orange cords. However, as soon as I walked into the school, I knew something was up. I couldn't find the office and everyone I asked gave me a funny look up and down. Now, when you look at me, the words "orthodox" or "Jewish" don't really come to mind, but I didn't think I stuck out too bad. Then I figured it out. Everyone was in skirts that covered their knees. Literally all the women were in skirts. Even the staff. My choice of lower body coverage was not only a pair of pants, but a bright ass pair of pants. Might have stuck out a tad. They were very polite about explaining their dress code to me at the end of the interview though.
Not as Funny, Story #2. I own 1 skirt and it is super short. When I went thrifting to buy my "work skirt" as I have affectionately nicknamed it, I found so many adorable, cheap flannels. Took me 5 hours to find a skirt I deemed acceptable to wear out of a costume party. For the most part every skirt I tried on I was like, "well this doesn't look right." Probably because I haven't worn long skirts since a brief period in 6th grade when I though I would try to pull off the 1950s look.
More funny than the previous, Story #3. I did have one extended period of dress wearing. All I would wear from ages 4 to 5 were dresses. They provided SO much more leg mobility than jeans! I could climb trees, fences, probably buildings if given the opportunity, with the flexibility afforded to me by my dresses! Coincidentally my dresses phase coincided with my commando phase. I distinctly remember the preschool calling my mother...more than once. Needless to say, as soon as she introduced me to leggings there was no going back. Much to the chagrin of my mother, the dress phase was over.
Chapter Numero Dos: Ate it in front of Campus Police.
This summer has brought so many fun things to Chicago. Temperatures above zero is one of them. However, it has stripped me of one of my prized possessions: my upass. No free transit for this lady. My solution has been to bike everywhere. Literally everywhere. I biked to U of C on the south side. One time. Almost died.
Today I biked out to Wilmette to pick up my materials for Cabaret (plugplugplugplugpluglightoperaworks). Yesterday my dad helped me mount my new seat onto my bike, it's very nice and springy I might add. As I was riding, on a sidewalk for a few meters thank God, I noticed that the seat was a bit off center. Naturally I took my hand off the handlebar to smack the seat into adjustment. Unfortunately the springs in my seat reacted rather poorly. I lost control of the front handlebars, really fought for it, and then crash landed on cobblestone and flower bed. In front of campus police. To make matters worse, I was wearing my attention grabbing sunshine yellow bucket helmet. I probably looked like an uncoordinated escapee from some Chicagoland rock climbing expedition.
When I face plant, which is pretty frequently, I spring right back up and keep going (it's a dancer thing, you'll know it when you see it. It's pretty spectacular in performance) as if it didn't happen. This usually elicits a few weird looks from concerned passerby. Basically the same thing here. "My arm's not bleeding, I'm just biking, you saw nothing, I'm laughing at myself, EVERYTHING'S FINE!"
Anyway. Super embarrassing.
Third Chapter: Moving Day.
This blog is pretty special because it's the inaugural blog of our new apartment! Herein deemed....we don't have a name yet. BUT as of 1 hour ago we have a bathroom sink! Small victories. Basically we moved like 6 apartments down the street from where we live now. It was a relatively smooth move and we're settling in quite nicely.
So far, this nameless baby apartment has won my affection over the stomping ground (our previous pad) in so many ways. Here's the list:
1. No rodent feces
2. Hot water on our first night
3. It doesn't smell like cat piss
4. The floors don't slant
5. We have doors
In summary, we now have basic living conditions. But probably the best thing about this apartment is the string of excellent quotes from our building supervisor as he was trying to unclog our sink:
"Don't worry, you gotta do whatcha gotta do"
"Put that in the toilet"
"Why don't you finish your sentences and then shut the f*ck up" (to his phone)
And last, but not least: "Well it was hard going in and hard coming out"
Chapter 4: Friends.
Well, one friend. And her name is Nicole. She came to visit! And we tore it up, let me tell you. I dragged her all over Chicago (read, no upass) and we walked all over the place. Miles. To Hamburger Mary's and back totally inebriated. We peed illegally in a Subway (calm down, not the train. That's reserved for emergencies only) and crossed many streets away from the corner. Think about that the next time you call one of us square. We hunted down a bottle of root beer liquor and went to the aquarium. Super fun visit.
Chapter 5: I have been to 7-11 everyday this week
That's less of a story and more of a sad fact. I'm now on a friendly basis with the cashiers there.
Chapter 6: Recreational Reading
Just finished The Hunger Games. Loved it. Can't wait to bike my ass downtown to get the next one. I love just having time to read before bed. It's so great. Started "Good People" this morning. So far so good.
Chapter 7: Pride is in a few weeks...or all month long
Cleveland's pride was...meh... 10 dollars and looked kinda lame. Sorry Cleveland. You're cool in other ways. But I have high hopes for Chicago. If nothing else because I had a chat with an angry evangelical gentleman about how gay Halstead is. Should make for a good festival. I'm considering buying a rainbow tie and suspenders...I could pull that off.
Well I think that's a good place to stop. Mostly because I'm meeting my dear friend Ian for dinner. And I'm pretty jazzed. And pretty hungry. I keep misspelling hungry as hungary. College. Am I right? I hope your summer's are going equally well.
Peace out home skillets.
Kaitlyn
So antsy that I nearly started to pen my ongoing love/appreciation letter to Sara Quin. Hopefully blogging will keep me from fangirl-ing out, at least for a few days. Not making any promises. Oh but sweet Jesus it feels like there is nothing to blog about! I like to focus my blogs on whatever specific topic is occupying most of my brain synapses, but right now I don't have a unified topic. That said, there's been plenty of interesting things happening in my neck of the woods, so I guess I can sum that up for ya.
I don't want this to bore you though, SO I have just now decided that it would be fun to write this in storybook form. With clever titles to guide you through the events of the past month. :)
Ch. The First: No Pants!
So my job this summer, aside from whatever stitching jobs I can pick up (wink wink nudge nudge any Chicago theatre professionals who find themselves reading this) I'm going to be cleaning lockers and helping organize classrooms at an Orthodox Jewish school nearby.
Funny story. I went in for my interview with the tried and true "wear what you would wear on the job to the interview." For me, this was a nice t-shirt and my bright orange cords. However, as soon as I walked into the school, I knew something was up. I couldn't find the office and everyone I asked gave me a funny look up and down. Now, when you look at me, the words "orthodox" or "Jewish" don't really come to mind, but I didn't think I stuck out too bad. Then I figured it out. Everyone was in skirts that covered their knees. Literally all the women were in skirts. Even the staff. My choice of lower body coverage was not only a pair of pants, but a bright ass pair of pants. Might have stuck out a tad. They were very polite about explaining their dress code to me at the end of the interview though.
Not as Funny, Story #2. I own 1 skirt and it is super short. When I went thrifting to buy my "work skirt" as I have affectionately nicknamed it, I found so many adorable, cheap flannels. Took me 5 hours to find a skirt I deemed acceptable to wear out of a costume party. For the most part every skirt I tried on I was like, "well this doesn't look right." Probably because I haven't worn long skirts since a brief period in 6th grade when I though I would try to pull off the 1950s look.
More funny than the previous, Story #3. I did have one extended period of dress wearing. All I would wear from ages 4 to 5 were dresses. They provided SO much more leg mobility than jeans! I could climb trees, fences, probably buildings if given the opportunity, with the flexibility afforded to me by my dresses! Coincidentally my dresses phase coincided with my commando phase. I distinctly remember the preschool calling my mother...more than once. Needless to say, as soon as she introduced me to leggings there was no going back. Much to the chagrin of my mother, the dress phase was over.
Chapter Numero Dos: Ate it in front of Campus Police.
This summer has brought so many fun things to Chicago. Temperatures above zero is one of them. However, it has stripped me of one of my prized possessions: my upass. No free transit for this lady. My solution has been to bike everywhere. Literally everywhere. I biked to U of C on the south side. One time. Almost died.
Today I biked out to Wilmette to pick up my materials for Cabaret (plugplugplugplugpluglightoperaworks). Yesterday my dad helped me mount my new seat onto my bike, it's very nice and springy I might add. As I was riding, on a sidewalk for a few meters thank God, I noticed that the seat was a bit off center. Naturally I took my hand off the handlebar to smack the seat into adjustment. Unfortunately the springs in my seat reacted rather poorly. I lost control of the front handlebars, really fought for it, and then crash landed on cobblestone and flower bed. In front of campus police. To make matters worse, I was wearing my attention grabbing sunshine yellow bucket helmet. I probably looked like an uncoordinated escapee from some Chicagoland rock climbing expedition.
When I face plant, which is pretty frequently, I spring right back up and keep going (it's a dancer thing, you'll know it when you see it. It's pretty spectacular in performance) as if it didn't happen. This usually elicits a few weird looks from concerned passerby. Basically the same thing here. "My arm's not bleeding, I'm just biking, you saw nothing, I'm laughing at myself, EVERYTHING'S FINE!"
Anyway. Super embarrassing.
Third Chapter: Moving Day.
This blog is pretty special because it's the inaugural blog of our new apartment! Herein deemed....we don't have a name yet. BUT as of 1 hour ago we have a bathroom sink! Small victories. Basically we moved like 6 apartments down the street from where we live now. It was a relatively smooth move and we're settling in quite nicely.
So far, this nameless baby apartment has won my affection over the stomping ground (our previous pad) in so many ways. Here's the list:
1. No rodent feces
2. Hot water on our first night
3. It doesn't smell like cat piss
4. The floors don't slant
5. We have doors
In summary, we now have basic living conditions. But probably the best thing about this apartment is the string of excellent quotes from our building supervisor as he was trying to unclog our sink:
"Don't worry, you gotta do whatcha gotta do"
"Put that in the toilet"
"Why don't you finish your sentences and then shut the f*ck up" (to his phone)
And last, but not least: "Well it was hard going in and hard coming out"
Chapter 4: Friends.
Well, one friend. And her name is Nicole. She came to visit! And we tore it up, let me tell you. I dragged her all over Chicago (read, no upass) and we walked all over the place. Miles. To Hamburger Mary's and back totally inebriated. We peed illegally in a Subway (calm down, not the train. That's reserved for emergencies only) and crossed many streets away from the corner. Think about that the next time you call one of us square. We hunted down a bottle of root beer liquor and went to the aquarium. Super fun visit.
Chapter 5: I have been to 7-11 everyday this week
That's less of a story and more of a sad fact. I'm now on a friendly basis with the cashiers there.
Chapter 6: Recreational Reading
Just finished The Hunger Games. Loved it. Can't wait to bike my ass downtown to get the next one. I love just having time to read before bed. It's so great. Started "Good People" this morning. So far so good.
Chapter 7: Pride is in a few weeks...or all month long
Cleveland's pride was...meh... 10 dollars and looked kinda lame. Sorry Cleveland. You're cool in other ways. But I have high hopes for Chicago. If nothing else because I had a chat with an angry evangelical gentleman about how gay Halstead is. Should make for a good festival. I'm considering buying a rainbow tie and suspenders...I could pull that off.
Well I think that's a good place to stop. Mostly because I'm meeting my dear friend Ian for dinner. And I'm pretty jazzed. And pretty hungry. I keep misspelling hungry as hungary. College. Am I right? I hope your summer's are going equally well.
Peace out home skillets.
Kaitlyn
Thursday, May 23, 2013
Surviving the Suicide of a Sibling for Dummies.
What? Are you really reading this? Is Kaitlyn writing a "shit gets real" blog about something that isn't Toddlers and Tiarras or my sadistic love of finals week?
Yes. Yes I am.
I will try to keep it from getting super emotional though. Mostly because I hate when people get super emotional online. Not that the internet isn't a place to share your feelings. But it really bothers me. So if it bothers you too, I'm with you and will do my best to keep it witty. Dark and witty at best.
Ready?
Part 1: A Brief History for Confused Readers
If this is coming out of the blue, don't worry about it. I didn't talk about it much till this year. Here's what you need to know. My brother Nick died my freshman year of college. He was 16. He had a lot of emotional problems and was experimenting with some unhealthy coping mechanisms. My parent's found him in our basement on a rope on October 17th, 2010. I got the news via phone call from my dad at about 7:30pm about a half mile outside of Chicago.
Part 2: Why on Earth I Would Write Such A Heavy Downer Blog
Because no one has done it. Or at least as of October 18th, 2010 I could find nothing on the subject. And I like to have guides for things. So I turned to the internet. All the sites were geared towards parents grieving for their children. There was literally nothing for siblings. Self help books? There is one. It's called "An Empty Chair." I own it. It sucks. All the stories are from adults who lost their siblings to suicide looooong after they had been living apart for years. My brother and I were really tight. Couldn't relate to them at all. I was fortunate enough to have a wonderful human in my life who had lost her brother to suicide and she really helped me through it. For those of you who do not have any sympathizers, this is for you.
Part 3: Surviving the Death of a Sibling.
A Step by Step Guide for all the Shit that has just Hit the Fan.
Getting the News.
At this point, suicide feels like a logical next step. Suicide pacts sound even better. You're wrong. Don't do it. I distinctly remember trying to work out how I could go about offing myself in the backseat of my friend's car as they drove me back to Ohio without them noticing. Hate to create a scene ya know? Your brain isn't working correctly. Just keep yourself safe and get to your family.
Food.
I love food. And I didn't eat anything except a glass of chocolate milk and some coffee until October 20th. (Silver lining: lost 10 pounds. Fabulous). I think this is an acceptable thing. Just don't pass out. After day 2, force feed yourself some carbs. Go for bread.
Shameless.
You are super sad. This is the only time in your life when it's acceptable to be a fucking wreck. Take it in. I bawled and dry heaved my way through every other rest stop between Chicago and Cleveland. The looks I got. Horrifying. Worth it. Also, the emails I sent to my professors were basically,
Hi,
My brother just killed himself in our basement. I will not be in your class all week.
Kaitlyn.
This is the only time in your life you're allowed to be that level of ugly emotional. Go big or go home. If someone dare criticize you within 3 days of the death, fly off the handle. Justified.
The Funeral.
Go. It's hard. And depending on the method of suicide, it's less pretty than a regular funeral. Kiss um. Head's up, it's waxy. Let yourself ugly cry in front of everyone. Leave something in the coffin. Don't volunteer to speak at the service. Don't put the pressure on yourself to formulate words and get up in front of people. Your only job is to grieve. And that's hard enough. So focus on you.
Get Help
There is no shame in therapy. You probably need it.
"How Are Your Parent's Doing?"
Literally EVERYONE will ask you this this. It's as if they forget that YOU have just lost a sibling! Then you will google "help me my brother just killed himself" and all that shows up is an article about how siblings are the "forgotten grievers." And you're all like, "well yeah, I know. now what." Then you will want to die. I would see relatives, friends, teachers, people that I really needed support from and they would say something like, "Hey, I heard about Nick. Are your parents doing ok? This must be so hard for them." REALLY? REALLY. Yeah. I wanted to punch them in the face too. Try not to. Though if you do, it's totally justified. No one seems to understand this point, but I do. They don't understand that they are literally tearing out your insides and smashing them to a pulp. You deserve to hurt a whole whole lot. Just as much as your parents. Own that. Don't let people make you think you have less of a right to grieve.
Side note to anyone who comes in contact with the live sibling within a year of the death of their counterpart. Do NOT ask how their parents are. Just don't. You are there for your friend. Be there for your friend. Ask how they are doing. Everyone feels bad for the parents. People straight up forget about the sibs.
Side note two: If you have stumbled across this as a grieving sibling, feel free to contact me. I want to help you. It's basically why I posted this. Leave a comment. We'll figure it out. Hang in there.
So You're An Only Child Now?
This is rough. Everyone's situation is different, but I don't have any other siblings. If you're in this boat, losing one not only takes a person from you, but it takes a role. I loved being an older sister. I considered it part of my identity as a person. Without a younger sibling, it's rough to be an older sister. As far as time tables go, expect to feel like half of you is dead for about 4 months.
Start Spreading The News (Name that Show tune bonus prize!)
Well now you have to tell people right? I found calling people and dropping this huge bomb of hurt very therapeutic. So don't feel guilty if you're all like, "I'm so unbelievably sad, I just wanna bring every body down with me." They didn't lose a sibling. They'll be fine. Go for it.
Getting Back to Your Life.
Eventually, the super grief subsides. What you're left with is crippling depression and a weeks wroth of makeup work. But you'll be functioning. You can do it. When I came back to school, I didn't want to be known as "the girl with the suicidal brother." I kind of already earned that identity within my dorm and didn't want pity friends. I wanted people to meet Kaitlyn. Not "that girl with the dead brother". This made my transition back to school easier and harder. Easier because I didn't have to be constantly reminded of how sad I was. I could push the feelings aside if I wanted to and pretend that things were normal for a while. It was really hard though because I could see the support my parents were getting back home while I wasn't getting any of that. My freshman year friends were WONDERFUL and did so so so much to help me. I am forever grateful to them. But its very different from the situation my parents were in where they didn't have to explain anything. Everyone just knew that they were broken up.
Mixed Feelings on Home.
Being at college, I didn't have time to adjust to being in a home without Nick. I got sick every time I went home. I'd come home for three or four days at a time, a month at Christmas, and everything looked, smelled, and felt like it did the night I came home when Nick died. And I couldn't get past it. I realized at Easter that I hadn't changed my sheets at home since October. I changed um. Cleaned up my room. Felt better. If you're in college, expect it to take somewhere within a year for your house to feel anything other than tragic.
Every Time I Ride The Megabus, I Get Sick.
And I couldn't figure out why. Than I realized, the first time I road the megabus was to go home for Thanksgiving Freshman year a mere month after my brother had died. I was terrified to go home and have to deal with Nick's death again. And like any accomplished college partier knows, sense memory is real. Be prepared for these things. Deal with them accordingly. I recommend sit com DVDs.
Holidays
These are rough. You don't realize how much your siblings are a part of your holiday. Because holidays take people back to their childhood. Even when you're grown up. I combated this by giving myself tasks. Instead of watching the parade by myself, an activity I used to share with Nick, I helped cook stuff. The first ones are the worst. I honestly recommend taking a friend, cousin, boyfriend/girlfriend with you to a family dinner. Just so you have someone to pair off with. But after you've been through a few, these get easier too. I promise. You learn how to do holidays in a new way. And you appreciate them differently.
Coming Out of the Dead Sibling Closet.
I still have a rough time with this one. I talk about my brother pretty frequently. I don't think most of my friends I've made in college know that he is dead. And people react weirdly when I offhandedly remark that my brother hung himself. Well I'm sorry if you don't see that as appropriate lunchtime chat. My mistake. Needless to say, this is a truth bomb that must be dropped delicately. Usually I go with,
Friend: "Oh, do you have any siblings?"
Kaitlyn, "I had a younger brother."
In my brain, my friends catch the constant use of past tense. They usually don't. So Might I suggest, "I had a younger brother, but he passed away a few years ago." Or "...Well not any live ones..." Then just leave um hanging. (ohhhhhhh puns). To be honest, I don't really know what to do with this one. You could always blog about it :)
Activism.
This made me feel better. Get involved. When you're ready.
YOU WILL NEVER KNOW MY PAAAAAIIIIIINNNNN.
After you've survived the super pain of losing a sibling, it's real hard to take anyone else's problems seriously. You'll be all like, "oh, your girlfriend broke up with you, NO FUCKS GIVEN." It's alright. Eventually you'll be able to sympathize with problems smaller than losing your whole family in a horrific plane crash. Or if this bitterness lingers for a while, don't beat yourself up. But realize, little things hurt too. And other people deserve love and attention. You may not be able to give them that attention, but everyone is entitled to their feelings. You don't want to hear this right now, I know. Just bear with me and keep it in mind.
It Gets Easier.
Keep it up. You can do this. There are people who've survived this. You have people who understand. Find them.
*I wrote this entry sometime last year I think. I'm a little further from it now, but I remember these feelings being really really real at the time. I've gotten past most of this. For example, I will not scream at you if you talk about your boy problems to me. I'll probably jump in about my girl problems, so no worries there. But anyway, should your sibling die I hope this provides some sort of guidance. Also, I really want to help people who have lost people. Feel free to contact me if you think it would help you or someone you know.
Also, I feel the need to take care of you emotionally after dumping on you. I'm going to lighten the mood with a quick funny story. So the other day my roommate made a comment that I thought was directed towards this person we were both crushing on so I suggested that she "take off her clothes and run to Canada." Turns out she was talking about one of our mutual friends... and an awkward time was had by all.
Kaitlyn
Yes. Yes I am.
I will try to keep it from getting super emotional though. Mostly because I hate when people get super emotional online. Not that the internet isn't a place to share your feelings. But it really bothers me. So if it bothers you too, I'm with you and will do my best to keep it witty. Dark and witty at best.
Ready?
Part 1: A Brief History for Confused Readers
If this is coming out of the blue, don't worry about it. I didn't talk about it much till this year. Here's what you need to know. My brother Nick died my freshman year of college. He was 16. He had a lot of emotional problems and was experimenting with some unhealthy coping mechanisms. My parent's found him in our basement on a rope on October 17th, 2010. I got the news via phone call from my dad at about 7:30pm about a half mile outside of Chicago.
Part 2: Why on Earth I Would Write Such A Heavy Downer Blog
Because no one has done it. Or at least as of October 18th, 2010 I could find nothing on the subject. And I like to have guides for things. So I turned to the internet. All the sites were geared towards parents grieving for their children. There was literally nothing for siblings. Self help books? There is one. It's called "An Empty Chair." I own it. It sucks. All the stories are from adults who lost their siblings to suicide looooong after they had been living apart for years. My brother and I were really tight. Couldn't relate to them at all. I was fortunate enough to have a wonderful human in my life who had lost her brother to suicide and she really helped me through it. For those of you who do not have any sympathizers, this is for you.
Part 3: Surviving the Death of a Sibling.
A Step by Step Guide for all the Shit that has just Hit the Fan.
Getting the News.
At this point, suicide feels like a logical next step. Suicide pacts sound even better. You're wrong. Don't do it. I distinctly remember trying to work out how I could go about offing myself in the backseat of my friend's car as they drove me back to Ohio without them noticing. Hate to create a scene ya know? Your brain isn't working correctly. Just keep yourself safe and get to your family.
Food.
I love food. And I didn't eat anything except a glass of chocolate milk and some coffee until October 20th. (Silver lining: lost 10 pounds. Fabulous). I think this is an acceptable thing. Just don't pass out. After day 2, force feed yourself some carbs. Go for bread.
Shameless.
You are super sad. This is the only time in your life when it's acceptable to be a fucking wreck. Take it in. I bawled and dry heaved my way through every other rest stop between Chicago and Cleveland. The looks I got. Horrifying. Worth it. Also, the emails I sent to my professors were basically,
Hi,
My brother just killed himself in our basement. I will not be in your class all week.
Kaitlyn.
This is the only time in your life you're allowed to be that level of ugly emotional. Go big or go home. If someone dare criticize you within 3 days of the death, fly off the handle. Justified.
The Funeral.
Go. It's hard. And depending on the method of suicide, it's less pretty than a regular funeral. Kiss um. Head's up, it's waxy. Let yourself ugly cry in front of everyone. Leave something in the coffin. Don't volunteer to speak at the service. Don't put the pressure on yourself to formulate words and get up in front of people. Your only job is to grieve. And that's hard enough. So focus on you.
Get Help
There is no shame in therapy. You probably need it.
"How Are Your Parent's Doing?"
Literally EVERYONE will ask you this this. It's as if they forget that YOU have just lost a sibling! Then you will google "help me my brother just killed himself" and all that shows up is an article about how siblings are the "forgotten grievers." And you're all like, "well yeah, I know. now what." Then you will want to die. I would see relatives, friends, teachers, people that I really needed support from and they would say something like, "Hey, I heard about Nick. Are your parents doing ok? This must be so hard for them." REALLY? REALLY. Yeah. I wanted to punch them in the face too. Try not to. Though if you do, it's totally justified. No one seems to understand this point, but I do. They don't understand that they are literally tearing out your insides and smashing them to a pulp. You deserve to hurt a whole whole lot. Just as much as your parents. Own that. Don't let people make you think you have less of a right to grieve.
Side note to anyone who comes in contact with the live sibling within a year of the death of their counterpart. Do NOT ask how their parents are. Just don't. You are there for your friend. Be there for your friend. Ask how they are doing. Everyone feels bad for the parents. People straight up forget about the sibs.
Side note two: If you have stumbled across this as a grieving sibling, feel free to contact me. I want to help you. It's basically why I posted this. Leave a comment. We'll figure it out. Hang in there.
So You're An Only Child Now?
This is rough. Everyone's situation is different, but I don't have any other siblings. If you're in this boat, losing one not only takes a person from you, but it takes a role. I loved being an older sister. I considered it part of my identity as a person. Without a younger sibling, it's rough to be an older sister. As far as time tables go, expect to feel like half of you is dead for about 4 months.
Start Spreading The News (Name that Show tune bonus prize!)
Well now you have to tell people right? I found calling people and dropping this huge bomb of hurt very therapeutic. So don't feel guilty if you're all like, "I'm so unbelievably sad, I just wanna bring every body down with me." They didn't lose a sibling. They'll be fine. Go for it.
Getting Back to Your Life.
Eventually, the super grief subsides. What you're left with is crippling depression and a weeks wroth of makeup work. But you'll be functioning. You can do it. When I came back to school, I didn't want to be known as "the girl with the suicidal brother." I kind of already earned that identity within my dorm and didn't want pity friends. I wanted people to meet Kaitlyn. Not "that girl with the dead brother". This made my transition back to school easier and harder. Easier because I didn't have to be constantly reminded of how sad I was. I could push the feelings aside if I wanted to and pretend that things were normal for a while. It was really hard though because I could see the support my parents were getting back home while I wasn't getting any of that. My freshman year friends were WONDERFUL and did so so so much to help me. I am forever grateful to them. But its very different from the situation my parents were in where they didn't have to explain anything. Everyone just knew that they were broken up.
Mixed Feelings on Home.
Being at college, I didn't have time to adjust to being in a home without Nick. I got sick every time I went home. I'd come home for three or four days at a time, a month at Christmas, and everything looked, smelled, and felt like it did the night I came home when Nick died. And I couldn't get past it. I realized at Easter that I hadn't changed my sheets at home since October. I changed um. Cleaned up my room. Felt better. If you're in college, expect it to take somewhere within a year for your house to feel anything other than tragic.
Every Time I Ride The Megabus, I Get Sick.
And I couldn't figure out why. Than I realized, the first time I road the megabus was to go home for Thanksgiving Freshman year a mere month after my brother had died. I was terrified to go home and have to deal with Nick's death again. And like any accomplished college partier knows, sense memory is real. Be prepared for these things. Deal with them accordingly. I recommend sit com DVDs.
Holidays
These are rough. You don't realize how much your siblings are a part of your holiday. Because holidays take people back to their childhood. Even when you're grown up. I combated this by giving myself tasks. Instead of watching the parade by myself, an activity I used to share with Nick, I helped cook stuff. The first ones are the worst. I honestly recommend taking a friend, cousin, boyfriend/girlfriend with you to a family dinner. Just so you have someone to pair off with. But after you've been through a few, these get easier too. I promise. You learn how to do holidays in a new way. And you appreciate them differently.
Coming Out of the Dead Sibling Closet.
I still have a rough time with this one. I talk about my brother pretty frequently. I don't think most of my friends I've made in college know that he is dead. And people react weirdly when I offhandedly remark that my brother hung himself. Well I'm sorry if you don't see that as appropriate lunchtime chat. My mistake. Needless to say, this is a truth bomb that must be dropped delicately. Usually I go with,
Friend: "Oh, do you have any siblings?"
Kaitlyn, "I had a younger brother."
In my brain, my friends catch the constant use of past tense. They usually don't. So Might I suggest, "I had a younger brother, but he passed away a few years ago." Or "...Well not any live ones..." Then just leave um hanging. (ohhhhhhh puns). To be honest, I don't really know what to do with this one. You could always blog about it :)
Activism.
This made me feel better. Get involved. When you're ready.
YOU WILL NEVER KNOW MY PAAAAAIIIIIINNNNN.
After you've survived the super pain of losing a sibling, it's real hard to take anyone else's problems seriously. You'll be all like, "oh, your girlfriend broke up with you, NO FUCKS GIVEN." It's alright. Eventually you'll be able to sympathize with problems smaller than losing your whole family in a horrific plane crash. Or if this bitterness lingers for a while, don't beat yourself up. But realize, little things hurt too. And other people deserve love and attention. You may not be able to give them that attention, but everyone is entitled to their feelings. You don't want to hear this right now, I know. Just bear with me and keep it in mind.
It Gets Easier.
Keep it up. You can do this. There are people who've survived this. You have people who understand. Find them.
*I wrote this entry sometime last year I think. I'm a little further from it now, but I remember these feelings being really really real at the time. I've gotten past most of this. For example, I will not scream at you if you talk about your boy problems to me. I'll probably jump in about my girl problems, so no worries there. But anyway, should your sibling die I hope this provides some sort of guidance. Also, I really want to help people who have lost people. Feel free to contact me if you think it would help you or someone you know.
Also, I feel the need to take care of you emotionally after dumping on you. I'm going to lighten the mood with a quick funny story. So the other day my roommate made a comment that I thought was directed towards this person we were both crushing on so I suggested that she "take off her clothes and run to Canada." Turns out she was talking about one of our mutual friends... and an awkward time was had by all.
Kaitlyn
Monday, May 13, 2013
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
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
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Thoughts for a Thursday night.
Hey there internet.
My laundry's drying and I've got time to kill. The dryers in our basement take at least an hour and a half to dry clothes. On the upside, they take my weeks worth of laundry in one go. Convenience.
Problem is, I can't come up with a unified topic to write on tonight so this might just be a splattering of thoughts.
We've been discussing racism and prejudice in literally all but 1 of my classes this week (that one class is jazz incase you were wondering). I think our generation's challenge is to meld this post-structuralist "beyond race" ideology, with the realities of society. Also, I don't know that I personally am ready to give up race as it pertains to culture. That said, I was raised in a predominantly causation middle class suburb with my cultural ties limited to a few Polish songs, Hungarian recipes, and stories from my grandparents about the ethnic communities they grew up in. Any connection I had to my ethnicity has been absorbed into the meld of American suburbanism. But that doesn't mean I don't appreciate (and envy) other people's connection to their culture. I feel like if we actually made the societal shift to a post-racial society, we would all meld into these people without culture or a sense of history. And I am far too nostalgic to handle that. But on that same token, race gives people such a visible trait to discriminate against. And that is unacceptable. But is it worth giving up your culture to eliminate prejudice? Is that even possible?
My solution: Everybody just be nice to one another.
I know we say that's an easy one, but people are mean sometimes. Usually in groups. And always for some very legitimate reason or other. But I think we need to learn to look out for our buddies a little. This doesn't mean eliminating all negative happenings from the world, but we can do better. And you know it.
Not sorry for preaching. Let that old sense of Catholic guilt permeate your thoughts. Haunt your dreams. Turn those dreams into nightmares and resolve in your awkwardly confessing them to a man of the clergy. Job well done.
On a lighter note, the temperature was in the mid 50s today in Chicago! Fucking finally! It doesn't quite feel like spring yet, but things have definitely started to thaw. And the classrooms still blast the heat, so they're hot as balls.
As a lady, I don't actually know how hot balls are. Men, you can fill me in here. I'll amend later if the consensus is that it is inaccurate.
Alternate suggestions:
Hotter than a cat on a hot tin roof.
Hotter than the love child of Tegan Quinn and Adam Levine. Just imagine the bone structure. Ugh.
Hotter than freshly brewed coffee that you want to spit out but choke down only to have it scald your tongue and impaire your taste buds for the next 24 hours.
Hotter than pergatory. Didn't see that one coming didja?
These are getting lame fast. And my laundry might be done. One can dream. SO I'm going to leave you with that.
Hasta Luego (shit, this reminded me that I need to take my Espanol placement test... or my preguntas determinar que clase de Espanol I will take. I don't think any of that was real Spanish. Feelin confident.)
Kaitlyn
My laundry's drying and I've got time to kill. The dryers in our basement take at least an hour and a half to dry clothes. On the upside, they take my weeks worth of laundry in one go. Convenience.
Problem is, I can't come up with a unified topic to write on tonight so this might just be a splattering of thoughts.
We've been discussing racism and prejudice in literally all but 1 of my classes this week (that one class is jazz incase you were wondering). I think our generation's challenge is to meld this post-structuralist "beyond race" ideology, with the realities of society. Also, I don't know that I personally am ready to give up race as it pertains to culture. That said, I was raised in a predominantly causation middle class suburb with my cultural ties limited to a few Polish songs, Hungarian recipes, and stories from my grandparents about the ethnic communities they grew up in. Any connection I had to my ethnicity has been absorbed into the meld of American suburbanism. But that doesn't mean I don't appreciate (and envy) other people's connection to their culture. I feel like if we actually made the societal shift to a post-racial society, we would all meld into these people without culture or a sense of history. And I am far too nostalgic to handle that. But on that same token, race gives people such a visible trait to discriminate against. And that is unacceptable. But is it worth giving up your culture to eliminate prejudice? Is that even possible?
My solution: Everybody just be nice to one another.
I know we say that's an easy one, but people are mean sometimes. Usually in groups. And always for some very legitimate reason or other. But I think we need to learn to look out for our buddies a little. This doesn't mean eliminating all negative happenings from the world, but we can do better. And you know it.
Not sorry for preaching. Let that old sense of Catholic guilt permeate your thoughts. Haunt your dreams. Turn those dreams into nightmares and resolve in your awkwardly confessing them to a man of the clergy. Job well done.
On a lighter note, the temperature was in the mid 50s today in Chicago! Fucking finally! It doesn't quite feel like spring yet, but things have definitely started to thaw. And the classrooms still blast the heat, so they're hot as balls.
As a lady, I don't actually know how hot balls are. Men, you can fill me in here. I'll amend later if the consensus is that it is inaccurate.
Alternate suggestions:
Hotter than a cat on a hot tin roof.
Hotter than the love child of Tegan Quinn and Adam Levine. Just imagine the bone structure. Ugh.
Hotter than freshly brewed coffee that you want to spit out but choke down only to have it scald your tongue and impaire your taste buds for the next 24 hours.
Hotter than pergatory. Didn't see that one coming didja?
These are getting lame fast. And my laundry might be done. One can dream. SO I'm going to leave you with that.
Hasta Luego (shit, this reminded me that I need to take my Espanol placement test... or my preguntas determinar que clase de Espanol I will take. I don't think any of that was real Spanish. Feelin confident.)
Kaitlyn
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