The Signs of Womanhood

I have a huge Wal-mart list, but I haven't had time to go.  Instead, I made a quick stop at the grocery store for the vitals.  Three two-gallon jugs of water, a 12 oz bag of milk chocolate chips, and a bottle of Tylenol.

Since you can't go out in public here without seeing someone you know, I ran into one of my professors.

"That makes so much sense," she said after a quick glance at the items in my hand.  "On so many levels."

Busted.

I laughed it off.  There was no way she'd believe the water was a weekly purchase, the Tylenol because I finally ran out of the nasty store-brand pain reliever I bought in the spring, and the chocolate chips were not for eating.

Well, they were.  Sort of.

Last week Kristin posted a microwave recipe for peanut butter cups, and I wanted to try them.  So, I did the logical thing.  I printed the recipe and glued it in my Writer's Notebook, then saved a digital copy just in case.  It was in that moment that I realized I am officially one step closer to adulthood.

I don't cook.  Ok, I can make a coveted cheese dip.  That's about it.  Until now.  Now I can make peanut butter cups, too.  What more does a person need, right?

<>< Katie

PS: If you're going to try the recipe, don't cut the muffin papers in half (at least I didn't) and let them thaw between the second cooling and eating or be prepared for a little someone (aka my roommate Jennifer) to make a mess of peanut butter.

I have been rejected

As part of my English major, I have to take a Communications class.  Someone please explain that one to me.  All I know is I would much rather write about donating blood or girls tumbling from walls than yesterday's bank robbery on 15th and Main St.

My optimistic attitude about this class quickly moved to dislike.  I even mentioned it to one of my English professors.
Professor: You know, you could have taken Poetry Writing instead of Communications Class.
Katie: I know, but I thought this would have been the lesser of the two evils.
Professor: You would have had more fun in the other evil.

Well, I think out of boredom, some of very clever lines have flowed through my fingers in this class.  And let me tell you, they're not about the hit-and-run that happened around 10pm last night...

The professor handed us a speech asked us to write an article about it, and said, "You're going to like this one."  I'm not sure if it was out of spite for the professor or spite for the class, but I was determined for prove him wrong.  It was pretty easy.  This was a Steve Jobs speech, and I'm a Windows girl.  The irony is that this post was written from a Mac.

With a Shaun Groves post about fear pulled up as an incentive to finish the assignment, I began to read the speech.  Naturally, I did everything my English background told me to do: critique, analyze, examine.  Well, that's apparently a big no-no for journalism, but I didn't really care.  I figured I would turn the filter on later.

Somewhere around the middle of the speech, I moved from loathing the assignment to tolerating it.  Although I did not agree with all of the theology, Jobs was making good points.

"I had been rejected, but I was still in love," he said.
Jobs was talking about being fired from his own company, but I think that's a line that can be applied to a plethora of different aspects of life.

"I had been rejected, but I was still in love."

For me, the application that shines through most clearly is in writing.  I submitted a piece that I thought was a sure-thing, but it was rejected.  That's a hard pill to swallow, especially for someone who can't swallow pills.

"I had been rejected, but I was still in love."

I was rejected, but I still love to write.  Just like Jobs continued to pursue a dream that eventually turned into the development of Pixar and NeXT, I am continuing to pursue a dream.  Who knows where it will turn out. 

This is what I do know: God gave me a passion for writing.  It is one of my strengths.  There is no way that He isn't going to use it for His glory.  I am willing to suffer through every Communications class required for my English major just to see that come to fruition.

<>< Katie

The Gang's All Here

Well, summer is over.  Even though classes don't start for another few days, I'm back at school.  Most students aren't back yet, but all six of the girls in my apartment are back.  (Jennifer, Nikki, Allyson, Amy, and Elizabeth)  Despite our hectic pre-semester schedules, it's been great to be back together playing Banangrams, being sassed, Wii-ing, being sassed, cuddling, being sassed...

Oh, and the light switches have been fixed.  Allelulia!  No more being blinded because you, heaven forbid, rolled over in the middle of the night.  Now if you sit still for fifteen minutes, which I can do thank you very much, the light goes off.  Of the two, I prefer this (I think).

Another glitch in our brand new building is the lack of intenet.  Since school is not in session, the computer lab are not open, so I have to butter up to a professor, yes, before school even starts, to check my email.  I can survive without internet.  Facebook can wait.  Email's important, but anyone emailing me urgently right now will accept the "My internet's not connected yet" excuse.  The blog, sorry friends, can survive a few days without me.  Books, however, need to be ordered.  At the beginning of last semester I talked about how I like brand new books and don't mind paying bookstore prices to not have to worry about the hassle.  I stand by those opinions.  However, this semester my schedule includes a stinky science class with a text book that costs almost a million dollars. A book I'm never going to use again and will not be able to sell.  So I Amazoned it. (I just made "Amazon" a verb... it's English).  Since I had to order that one online, there were a few others I ordered, too.  Well, intended to order.  The lack of internet put an impasse on my plan.  I'm not making an online purchase from a public computer, sorry.

Periodically, I can get internet when sitting in a certain position on my roommate Jennifer's bed.  Ever seen someone putting cell phone in the most bizarre of positions in order to get a signal?  Yes, that's me with my computer.  When I get Jennifer's Bed internet it's for about ten minutes and that's it for the entire day. This morning, I was starting to get cranky about the situation and stressed about the upcoming semester.

I only had a half hour, so I booted up my computer, plopped it on Jennifer's bed, and began to rant.  "God, I can live without internet. I proved that several times this summer and again this week. However, I'm really starting to worry about this upcoming semester. If I could just order my books I'd feel a lot better."  I checked my AOL email since it's my internet provider (since 1997!) but before I checked my school email and gmail, before I checked facebook, before I checked the blog (gasp!) I went to Amazon.

Finding the books was quick and easy.  Checking out, no problem.  I got decent deals and saved a lot of money.  Life was good.  I hit "Submit this purchase."  It went.  PAH!  I closed amazon and typed "katieax.blogspot.com" into the navigation bar.

"Internet Explorer cannot display the page."

I was moderately annoyed and simultaneously moderately amused.  I said I wanted internet to order books.  I got internet to order books.  I could not help but say, "Thank You, God."  The blog.  Facebook.  Email.  All were unnecessary distractions.
 
Twelve hours later, I'm using some friends for their internet to update my social media outlets, not for work.  Life is good.
 
<>< Katie
 
Reason of the Day to Laugh at Katie:

I dropped my socks in the toilet.  No, they weren't on my feet.  Yes, the toilet was empty.

Campfire

Earlier this semester I read a blog about a little boy with burns that reminded me of my own burn story. The resonance hit me hard and after two days of dwelling finally I decided to take my own classic advice and "write about it."  I've written about it a million times before, but it was time to do it again and a little differently.

On the first day of my Human Biology class the professor said, "This is the non-science majors class.  I realize all of you are only here because you have to be.  You're not science people and that's ok, but for me to remember that I'm going to think of you all as my father.  My father was a poet.  In my brain, you are all poets."

I remember thinking to myself, I'm not a poet, but I am closer to a poet than a scientist. 

I'm still not a poet, but I wrote a poem explaining why I once told Andy I'm allergic to fire.

<>< Katie

"Campfire"

She ran her fingers over
discolored imperfections on her forearms
before pulling down her sleeves to hide
the scars of a clumsy childhood.

She didn’t remember
tripping over the pesky shoelace,
the metal safety rim bruising her leg.
But all too well she remembered
failing to choke back the tears
as smoldering coals gripped her forearms,

the firm grasp on the back of her shirt,
her rescuer, her mother,
dragging her to the a perfectly-placed water pump,
as if it had been awaiting her misfortune.

She remembered the
pain as her skin burned,
embarrassment of her own misstep,
fear and unknown in the Emergency Room
the doctor poking incessantly asking if she felt it.
Yes. It hurt.

She remembered the rules
no pool, no sun.
A bird was told not to fly.
She tried to argue but
her voice had vanished,
the verdict not negotiable.

She remembered
devastation,
summer lasting an eternity
bandages over both arms,
trying in vain to dry one hand,
always refusing to explain why.

Years later the bandages are gone,
but the scars remain like
she tanned while wearing fishnets,
even if only for her to see
and still she avoids explaining.

Part II: The Writer's Notebook

This is Part II of the "Katie's a Nerd" blog series. See Part I here.

"Why do you have a Day Book?" Roxy asked me yesterday as I tried to scribble down a few more notes for my blog prior to the start class.

"I'm a writer," I told her. I could tell from the confused look on her face that my answer was not satisfactory. From her terminology, I also knew which professor she had for her English general requirement classes therefore had a place to start with the explanation that would consume my remaining writing time.

A Day Book is a catch-all often used for classes. It includes homework, class exercises, free writing, notes, thoughts, ideas, and often handouts (thank you, glue stick). A Writer's Notebook is basically the same thing with a more intimidating name, less focus on classwork, and a little bit less glue. It's really easy to separate our English students by concentration and favorite professor based on the term used for the notebook clutched to their chest.

I wasn't a Writer's Notebook/ Day Book girl. The term didn't intimidate me, the lack of organization did. I love the organization of having separate places for different things and had a system. One binder for class, the PowerPoint for quotes, Word for story thoughts, the blog for God moments, and a small journal for the day's events. The thoughts of having all of those things combined together in one composition book concerned me. Imagine the mess! Then I glanced around my room and noticed the plethora of post-it notes strewn everywhere and decided something needed to change.

Enter my Writer's Notebook. I gave in and bought a composition book only because I finally found some that were college ruled! (Thanks, Office Depot). It lives in my back pack and is almost always with me. Whether I reach for it over a loose leaf sheet of paper is something I'm still working on, but I am improving. It is also the first thing I pack when I'm traveling. The first drafts of many of these blogs are hidden within its pages sitting side-by-side with thoughts that have yet to make an appearance in blog-world. It also contains great quotes and conversations, rough scenes from my novel, and sometimes my rants that cannot stay contained inside of me. For organization, I've tried to color-code my writing in pencil, black pen, and purple pen, but sometimes I forget which color means what. Sure, I still have a post-its everywhere, but I'm learning to enjoy the chaos of my Writer's Notebook.

This also leads to bedlam when the Writer's Notebook vanishes.

"OH MY GOSH!! I lost my Day Book," Keith ran into the caf screaming. Panic stuck. I guess he even sent text messages telling people to pray for him because it was like part of his life and been ripped from him.

"It'd be like if someone stole our blogs!" He said hitting me in the arm trying to put this catastrophe in perspective for me. I already understood, but there was no cutting him off. "Can you imagine if someone stole our blogs!"

"Katie's life would be over," Nikki teased. Maybe I'll hide her Writer's Notebook for a few hours and see how she likes it!

If you don't have a Writer's Notebook/ Day Book, get one. (And don't lose it, Keith). It doesn't have to be a college-ruled composition book. It can be a 10cent notebook Wal-mart sells right before school starts but know your spine will probably get messed up. It can be a fancy leather-bound book that's soft to the fingers but know those get expensive after one or two. Adapt these ideas (that I've already adapted once) and find something that works for you. But get a Writer's Notebook. Non-writers, I won't laugh (too hard) at you if you call yours a "Day Book."

Oh, and don't use a blog to catch your thoughts. I know, I'm writing to myself here. The chances of me accidentally destroying my blog is greater than losing my Writer's Notebook. I eat computers. Paper doesn't taste as good.

Remember those stories we talked about yesterday? Go break in your Writer's Notebook with some of them. :-)

Have you found Writers' Notebooks/ Day Books work for you? Are they practical for your life? Please let me know!

<>< Katie
PS: Happy birthday, Emily. :-)

Crash Boom Bash

"I'll give you a ride back to your apartment," Jessica offered as we walked out of practice tonight. Then she added only half-jokingly, "If you don't mind riding with me."

I could have walked back to my apartment, in fact I seriously considered it. However, the dangers of riding with Jess seemed less than the dangers of walking across campus alone in the dark.

As I got in her new car, I thought back to that warm October day. I remember getting in her car that morning and thinking, If we crash, these color guard flags are going to cause some serious internal damage. We did and they didn't.

This past October, Jessica and I were headed to an academic event when we blew a tire by running off the road to avoid getting hit head-on by a line of Dodge Rams. God sent us some of our classmates to change the tire. We were going to get to our destination and get a new tire since we were in the middle of nowhere and were headed towards a bigger city.

In this brouhaha our GPS got messed up. It was telling us to get on the freeway, get off at the next exit, get back on the freeway going the other direction, get off at the next exit and on and on and on. Since we were driving on a spare tire, we didn't think it was wise to be on the freeway at all but neither of us knew an alternative route. Well, it wasn't long before we needed more than just a new tire.

We pulled over in a vacant parking lot to adjust the GPS. Destination reset, directions make sense, knew where we're going, put the GPS down, and continued our journey. Not a mile later we t-boned a Dodge Ram.

Afterwards I didn't talk about the accident much because, well, there's no nice way to say, "Jess and I totaled her car yesterday." Besides, the conversation was always more or less the same.

"Oh my gosh, are you ok?"

I'm fine. Yes, I'm a bit sore, we totaled a car for heaven sake, but I've been more sore from tennis practice. No ambulance ride. No ER. No nothing. No, that answer isn't going to change if you call back in two hours.

"Were you scared?"

First off, what kind of question is that? Who crashes a car and isn't scared? Me apparently. I watched the truck stop at the stop sign, cross oncoming traffic, cross the left lane, appear directly in front of our car. The only few seconds I cannot physically see were us making contact, the airbag deploying, and the trunk spinning. It would have been logical for me to close my eyes, after all there was an airbag colliding with my face (not to mention the truck colliding with our car). Even though I can't see those few seconds, I can hear the crunching of mental. With confidence I could tell EMS that my head was not responsible for the cracked windshield on the passenger side.

"Does the other driver have insurance?"

Can you drive a car without insurance? He admitted it was his fault and apologized. He said he never saw us but did stop at the stop sign. I know this to be true. I watched him do it.

Although it's not something I'm happy we experienced, we've both learned a lot from this day.

First off, we are thankful for flat tires. Since we were driving with the spare tire, we were driving slowly, ten to fifteen miles under the speed limit. It's not hard to notice that if we had been driving the speed limit, the hood of our car could have easily gotten stuck under the truck. That's would have made for an entirely different outcome.

Secondly, it is a miracle that we had no injuries. The car took the brunt of the impact. Besides the dashboard, the only thing inside that was broken was Jess's GPS. (Which was already not in proper working order). Both of us were offered medical care. Jess opted for on-site evaluation, and I turned it down. For days I wondered if this was something I was going to regret, but I don't because I was not injured. In all honesty, I'm kind of disappointed we totaled a car and the only bruise on my body was from where I'd gotten body-slammed into the counter the week before. We are incredibly thankful for God's arms of protection surrounding us.

God provided us with compassionate people all the way through the day. From the other students who helped us change the tire to the woman who stopped to make sure we had a phone to call 911 to the bikers who waited with us until emergency personnel arrived to the emergency personnel themselves. Even the other driver was nice. There's no way I can ever thank everyone that helped us. I thought to thank some on the scene but some I didn't and that is one thing I regret from that day.

The other thing I regret is not being more of a backseat driver. I had been watching the truck the whole time. Jessica said she'd never heard me, "Jess, are you watching that truck? He doesn't see us. Jess! Truck!" I'd already been a backseat driver that day (as always), so I was trying not to be obnoxious. I was not screaming. Except for the millisecond as we were about to make contact when I doubted myself, I knew the whole time that he was not going to make it across the road before we both tried to be in the same place at the same time. I've resolved myself to forever be a backseat driver because I'd rather be annoying than be in a crushed car.

There are a zillion reasons why this accident didn't make sense:

- Periodically throughout our journey, Jess had been texting or talking on her cell phone. Texting/talking and driving has always bothered me. The irony is that she was not messing with her phone when we crashed.

- We should have never been on that road at all in our journey. If the GPS hadn't been messed up we would not have gotten off the freeway. If we would not have done the safe thing and pulled over in the parking lot, we would not have had to travel back down the road to get back to the freeway.

- If those first trucks and their ATVs had not made Jessica so nervous, we would not have swerved so far off the road that we hit the curb and popped her tire, so we could have been to our destination on time.

- If...

If, ands, and buts aside, we had an accident. That's exactly what this is: an accident. Except not to God. God doesn't have accidents; He may be the only one to know why it happened. But it did happen, and God is good. All the time.

Just because God is good doesn't mean our day was good. I mean, we got up on a Saturday to leave campus at 8am on what should have been a 55 minute drive only to return to campus at noon (the time I normally wake up on Saturdays) having never made it to our destination.

No, we did not get credit for the academic event we tried to attend. When I told the professor we tried to go and got into a car accident she looked me in the eye and essentially said, "Bummer." That irked me. If someone tells you they totaled a car trying to go to your event: do NOT under any circumstances say, "Bummer!" Even an, "I'm sorry" would have been nice... and necessary.

I've really struggled with this blog. Writing about the accident isn't hard; telling people about it is. However, I've really felt God's give me a story to tell, and I've been disobedient by keeping it to myself. I wrote this post a week ago and have revised/ rewritten it several times since then. Except I haven't posted it. I put it in my "next time I don't have something to say" collection of blogs. Face it, I always have something to say. I couldn't figure out why I was being so selfish and keeping this story silent.

Last night, I figured it out. Worshipping three rows in front of me was Jessica, my driver. Whether we like it or not, she and I will always have a bond because we crashed a car together.

Sitting in front of her was a different girl, also named Jessica. This other Jessica was in a car accident when she was in high school. A horrific accident where people died. She almost did, too. I'd known this for years but never really knew her story. Seeing her today helped me realize why I was being shy about sharing my story. The night before we crashed, Jessica told me about her car accident. She should not have lived! We talked about how God has healed her, physically and emotionally.

It clicked tonight seeing her for the first time in months. She was in a car accident and almost died, and God has used her story. I was in a car accident and walked away without a scratch; God can and will use my story, too.

I will not be silent any more!

<><>

PS. If you read this all the way through you deserve a hug because it's the Microsoft Word equivalent of three pages (without the photo). I'm sorry. Honestly, I tried to keep the details minimal. If I included everything I wanted to this post could have easily been fifteen pages. Ask me if you want more information because I'll freely give it. :-) Thanks for reading!

Exercise

Gosh, I love Mondays. Hear the sarcasm. My first class starts at 9am and my last class ends at 9:50pm. Yes, please pray fr me on Mondays especially. This is relational exercise in patience.

I knew it was going to be a weird day in my ASL class this morning. We were talking about different shapes and the professor signed, "KNOW MEDICAL DOCTOR SERVE HAMBURGER CIRCLE IN BOX." Huh? Must have zoned out because that didn't make sense. Yeah, it was "McDonalds" not "Doctor." Both signed "MD" with one on the back of the hand and the other on the inside of the wrist. Oops. Wrong me. Mental exercise.

This afternoon, I was sitting in my hammock reading about poetry. My favorite thing. More sarcasm. It's no wonder I couldn't focus. So, I looked across my room and noticed my bike. Let's go for a bike ride! Ladies and gentlemen, it is JANUARY and I went for a bike ride without my jacket. The terrain here is different than I'm used to and I'm completely out of shape, but even my short bike ride was enough to get some exercise, clear my brain, and enjoy the wonderful weather.

One of my suitemates is currently taking violin for the first time. Back in the day, I used to play viola. Not well, mind you, but I played never the less. Everyone took a turn trying to play her violin and everyone sounded awful. Sorry, girls. When it was my turn, I played an old simple song I remembered and jaws dropped. I remind you, I am not a good violist, but it was great to have a stringed instrument in my hands again. Excellent exercise for my fingers and my brain.

Part one of my Christmas present arrived in the mail today, our Wii. I call it the "you and your suitemates aren't good enough at killing time" gift. It was later followed by a Wii Fit, the "you need to lose weight" aspect of the gift. Huh? The Wii Fit isn't here yet but my shoulder hurts from bowling and tennis. More physical exercise.

However, the most challenging exercise happened in my night class. This is the first time we've met, but the professor has had all of us as his students previously. Prior to even handing out the syllabus, he stated a vague situation and gave us an hour to respond to it privately. This was an excellent writing exercise in my religion class, and I might post what I wrote tomorrow. Really, it was a masked-exercise in discovering Christology. However, it was hard! An emotional and spiritual battle. At the end of class, the professor apologized for "any tear and sweat this may have caused." It caused both. Spiritual and emotional exercise.

Are you in shape? Relationally? Emotionally? Physically? Mentally? Most importantly, spiritually?

<>< Katie

PS: Yes, I realize this was kind of a "I had peanut butter on my bagel instead of cream cheese" post and no one really cares, but it was just a very interesting day and I think you should hear about it. I tried to tie it together. Oh, and I don't really believe the Wii Fit joke aspect of the Christmas present, by the way.

"I Support InFocus"

On Tuesday, the band was warming up for worship, when a professor came upstairs. Down stairs he had a classroom full of CEOs and other important graduate students who were going nuts with the noise from our practice. He said he was going to try and get them out quickly, but asked that we also keep the noise level down for awhile. He insisted we were just as important as they are, and--after a quick glance to the powerpoint screen--that he "supports InFocus." When he said this, I thought he was joking, so I started to laugh. I'm really glad he wasn't talking to me because it took me a minute to stifle my laughter. InFocus is the name of the company that made our projectors. The projector was starting up when he looked at it to get the name of our organization. He really thought we were an organization called InFocus and insisted he supported us. Really, that's not us at all and he has no idea who we are, but he supports us.

A word to the wise, know what you're supporting. Don't just say things that make people smile. What if the people you're trying to make smile really are participating in something the Bible clearly warns against? Don't agree blindly.

<>< Katie