An Inspirational Gift Idea

They wanted to watch Glee. I didn't have any good distractions.

My suitemates used to love watching Glee. It was not unusual to find twenty people in our apartment squished around the TV on Thursday night. One roommate even wrote her undergrad thesis on Glee.

My family watches Glee too and honestly I just can't stand the show. All of the adults act like children and makes me cranky.

Last night I was too comfortable in the family room with my notebook to move when they turned on the Christmas episode. So I half-watched it and half-wrote (and half-talked but that's apparently three halves).

For maybe the first time ever, I actually enjoyed it! I'm not itching to watch it again, but I don't regret the first time.

On national television the real Christmas story was read! My Jesus was called Lord and Savior!

On national television characters that are often selfish and immature realize that the reason for the season is not for gift giving. Instead, they seize opportunities to give back.

They serve at a homeless shelter, they ring the Salvation Army bells, and they give African pigs as gifts for Christmas.

Rather than the earrings she wanted, Finn gave Rachel a pig in Africa that will get fattened up all year long and then serve as food for an entire family.  Rachel rejects the gift at first but then recognizes the beauty of it and names it Barbara after her inspiration grandmother.

I just checked the Compassion gift catalog, there's a pig you can give for Christmas! If that pig gives birth to about 16 piglets a year, that family will have a lifetime of income! Name it after your own inspirational grandmother.

That or an African drought survival kit.

A cow.

A "Survive to Age 5" kit.

Really, go check it out.

Give a gift in memory of someone inspirational. Give it to someone inspirational (aren't those people always the hardest to buy for?). Be inspirational and ask your relatives to give you a goat, chickens, and a blankets for Christmas.

Thank you for making a difference!
<>< Katie

PS: Grandma, I circled the safe and sanitary bathroom. But I won't name it.

Habit

I have this bizarre habit that resulted in incessant mocking from my suitemates.  Actually, I have many bizarre habits and sometimes even breathing results in mockery.

However, this one happened every time I entered the apartment.  It didn't matter if I came from class, the caf, or the coffee shop.

The first thing I would do was put my keys on the hook.  We each had hooks by the door with our names on them, hypothetically, so we'd never lose our keys.

Then I'd go in my room, put down my heavy backpack, take off my shoes (and coat), and hit the power button on my computer.

It's what happened next that got me mocked relentlessly.

If someone had started a conversation with me in those first twenty seconds home, I put it on pause until this next step was complete.

I would go into the bathroom and wash my hands.

I knew I did it regularly, but I didn't realize I did it every time I came home until they pointed it out.

The habit is rooted deeply back to elementary school.  My sisters and I would get off the bus and almost immediately were ushered into the bathroom to wash off our school germs.

I have no doubt that this healthy though bizarre habit was why chicken pox started going around my kindergarten class in October but I didn't get it until May.  I'm sure it helped my six year no-puking record, too.

Just from being taught to wash off my school germs as soon as I got home.  And it has become a subconscious habit.

I've got some of the habits Mom and Dad taught us growing up, but I've also got to build my own habits.

I need to be intentional about spending time in God's word.  I need to be conscious of my prayer life.  I really wish I could say they were habits, but they aren't.  They're hard.

The alarm clock says, "Get up! Go! Go! Go!"  The lunch break is short; the boss demanding.  The course load difficult; the homework plenty.  The after school activities are many; the free time is rare.  The days is long, the body exhausted.

I've confessed to you all before that some days I grudgingly read my Bible.  Yet still God works through it.

Soap doesn't only wash off my school germs when I tell it to.  It kills 99.9% of them every time I wash (or so the commercial says).

God doesn't just speak to my heart when I want Him to, when I'm willing to hear what He has to say, or when I have the right attitude.  Of course, those things are beneficial, but they're not necessary.  Sometimes God still speaks when I'm crabby, tired, distracted, or just don't want to be there.

And that makes it worth building the habit.

<>< Katie

Home

Last week I made my first trip to Baptist Country as an alumna.  When we pulled into town, it didn't feel like I had been gone a month.  It felt like we had just gone to Elizabeth's for the weekend.

Very little has changed. 
A few trees have blown down, the construction projects have progressed, and there are not nearly as many cars in the parking lot. 

So much has changed.
My ID card no longer lets me into buildings, my mailbox is boarded up, and I am not returning in the fall.  Yet still it feels like home.

It was years ago when I first referred to that little town as "home."  If I flew to The Homeland, I said I was flying home.  If I flew to Baptist Country, I said I was flying home.  The lines between "home" and "school" were so blurry that I gave up on what to call each place and declared travel days "Airplane Day," no matter which direction I was going.

What is home?

Is home my parents' house?  Is home the college town where I went couch-surfing last week?  What exactly is home?

I wish I posted everything I've drafted because in February I wrote a post entitled "Redefining Family."  It claimed "family" was my five suitemates, my ten-person ministry team, and my lunch buddies.  Sometimes family has little to do with blood relation.

Home is where your family is.

I'm having a hard time deciding where "home" is because my family is in The Homeland, my family is in Baptist Country, my family is in Nicaragua, in Guatemala...  Does that make home all of those places as well?

In the same way that The Homeland will always be "home" because my family is here, Baptist Country will always be "home" because my family is there, too.

Beauty and the Beast taught me "home is where the heart is."  If that's true, then I'm heartbroken.  In Baptist Country, I want to be in The Homeland.  While in The Homeland, I yearn for Baptist Country.  I don't think this is necessarily a bad problem to have, but I am not a fan.  For four years my life has been split by 900 miles, a chasm that is not closing anytime soon.

Until God sends me somewhere else, home will have to be my parents' house.  No more trying to outsmart amazon.com to get packages delivered to my P.O. box.  No more loitering in the caf.  No more spontaneous trips to Wal-mart even though we don't need anything.  No more "Katie, party of twelve, your table is ready."

As I struggle to define such a basic four-letter word, I must also remember that in the grand scheme of things, none of these places are "home."  They are all temporary dwellings prior to an eternal home.  I honestly believe that someday there will be no sixteen-hour drives and no time change because there will be no time at all.  There will be a day when tears won't roll, hearts won't break, and pain won't hurt.  All of God's children will be home, constantly singing praises to Him, for He deserves it. 

That, my friends, will be Home.

<>< Katie

The G-Word

As many are quick to remind me, graduation is less than a month away.  I'm trying to ignore this fact.  If I don't think about it, if I don't write it on my calendar, it's not going to happen, right?

At our mission trip reunion I shared how I'm having a hard time with this whole graduation thing.  Later someone mentioned that summer was coming fast.

"Shhhh!  Don't remind me!"  I protested.

They were all really supportive and told me it's going to take forever to get here, like Christmas.  A little while later, someone else spoke about graduation.

"We're not allowed to use the G-word," I said.

Of course, Neal's ten year old son Ethan proceeded to use "The G-Word" repeatedly just to vex me.  He counted down the days and told me how fast it was going to come.  Typical brother...

It was all in good fun but I didn't really appreciate it.  Later, in telling the story to my suitemates, I slanted it to share how I got picked on by a ten year old.

Allyson came in to the middle of the story.  "Wait, what G-word?  God?  We're not allowed to say, 'God'?"

From now until whenever I'm allowed out of time out, whenever my suitemates and I are discussing graduation, I must also say "God is in control."  But don't tell Ethan.

God IS in control!
<>< Katie

A Lenten Promise

It started in November when it was still sporadically warm enough to wear shorts.  We wanted to avoid No-Shave-November to keep our options open.

Enter No-Soda-November.  For the month of November, my suitemates and I gave up soda.  There was a little bit of cheating forgetting but, as a whole, we did well.  Not going to lie, on December first I had root beer mixed with milk.  It sounds gross, but it's delicious.  I don't think I've had any soda since.

In December, Allyson and Jennifer gave up fried foods.  A little bit more failure.  Always justified in some bizarre way or another.

In January, the two gave up eating after eight pm.  By now the other four of us were beginning to realize this habit of giving something up was more about stubbornness than it was health.  More about temporary sacrifice and self control than building better habits.  We started to convince them that exceptions could be made.  "This fresh out of the oven cookie is still part of dinner.  Dessert just wasn't ready yet because we at dinner at 7:30."

In February, the shortest month, Jennifer and Allyson started their hardest mission: no sweets.  No chocolate, no desserts, no mochas, no Valentines candy...  They began to consume potato chips at the speed of light.  I kid you not, Jennifer ate an entire bag of cheddar Lays in one sitting.  Around the middle of February, they went to Taco Bell and declared cinnamon twists chips rather than sweets.  Allyson even poured the remaining cinnamon and sugar into her mouth.  Needless to say, we declared them failures.  For the rest of the month, they hid their sweet-eating from judgmental persons.

They did not give up anything for the month of March.  Ironically, the month in which Lent starts.

Today, Ash Wednesday, a lot of the Christian community around the world is sacrificing something.  However, unlike Jennifer and Allyson, our sacrifice is not out of stubbornness.  Our sacrifice is to honor the One who sacrificed His life on the cross.  Our sacrifice is about growing spiritually closer to our Savior.

Figuring out what to give up for Lent is always a challenge for me.  I try to avoid giving up anything food-related because we'll just be honest: I'm a skinny kid.  Skinny kids and food sacrifices don't sit well with the rest of the world.

Two years ago I gave up facebook... and learned refreshing the page actually helps me think.
Last year I vowed to blog no more frequently than every other day... a habit I have kept.

This year I'm thinking about:
- giving up my car to save on gas... but I only drive the car pool one Sunday morning out of every three
- giving up socks... that was Nikki's idea
- giving up the color purple... I might get in trouble for public indecency.
- giving up my thesis... ooh, I like that idea
- getting more exercise... can you see this skinny kid on a treadmill?
- drinking only milk and water... oh, wait, that's pretty much covers it.
- giving up breathing... what's that?

For Lent this year, I'm going to work on two things:
1 - spending more time in serious prayer, ideally in the form of 20 minutes or more a day in our campus prayer room.
2 - affirming or encouraging at least one person every day, perhaps through the mail or in other Project 7-like ways.

What are you giving up or adding for Lent?

<>< Katie

PS: Guess what?  Today's Ash Wednesday meaning... in 40 days I get to go home for Easter!  (I haven't been home since Christmas).

Sounding Totally Different

When I was in Costa Rica, we went for a hike on a mountain supposedly to see a beautiful sunset and volcanic eruption.  As we were climbing, we could hear this rumbling.

"Is that thunder?" We asked anxiously.

"No, that's the volcano's rumble.  They sound totally different," our guide replied in an accent that sounds British when I mock it.

Sheep are no strangers to the "totally different" sound.  They're relatively dumb animals but they have the amazing ability to recognize their shepherd's voice from a crowd, even after an extended period of time.

In John 10, Jesus calls His people sheep who recognize His voice, our Shepherd.

Can you hear the total difference in Christ's voice and the voice of others?  Sometimes it's easy to discern.  Other times it's like differentiating between a volcano rumble and thunder.

“I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know me—just as the Father knows me and I know the Father—and I lay down my life for the sheep. I have other sheep that are not of this sheep pen. I must bring them also. They too will listen to my voice, and there shall be one flock and one shepherd.”  John 10:14-16

Our Costa Rican guide explained the volcano's rumble and thunder would vibrate on the ear differently.  I couldn't hear or feel the difference.  I have reason to doubt the guide knew the difference too.  When we were halfway up the mountains, the heavens opened. We were drenched through our underwear.  They sound totally different, eh?
 
You'd think Christ's voice is totally different from anything else we hear.  Unfortunately, that's not always the case.  Sometimes it is incredibly difficult to discern His voice.  I wish I had some tips for recognizing our Shepherd's voice, but it really depends on the situation.  However, I have learned that the more time I spend in the Word the more clear His voice is to me. 
 
I have this joke-goal of being able to recognize my entire campus by voice, so I don't have to awkwardly venture in the living room when someone comes to visit.  I want to know who's here without leaving my desk.  Well, I can't do the whole campus, but I do recognize my suitemates by voice (and other things like how they close the door, where they drop their keys, and how heavily they step).  I recognize other frequent visitors by their knocks and noises. 

The more time you spend with someone, the easier to recognize his/her voice and behavior patterns.  The same is true for God.  The more time you spend with Him, the easier it is to recognize His will. 
 
Is it consistent with the God-character shown in the Bible?
Is it totally crazy?  (That usually means it's God...)
Is it confirmed through other believers?
Is it constantly on your heart/ mind?

What other tips/questions do you have for differentiating when the voices aren't totally different? 

Learning to differentiate,
<>< Katie

What have you read?

As I was running late to class, Amber sent me a text message.  "What have you read today?  It's for a class."

I left her a long, rambling voicemail that went something like this,

"I read a chapter in Lipstick in Afghanistan, a handout for class, fifty pages in a textbook, blogs, a letter of recommendation that waived my right to see but the professor gave me anyway, emails, facebook updates, um... the caf menu... um... I haven't read my Bible yet but will before the day's over."

It was 3:00 in the afternoon.  I'd gone to three classes, eaten breakfast and lunch, submitted my last graduate school application, played badminton, harassed Evan about his bland office, and five minutes earlier I had single-handedly kept my suitemate conscious.  (Unfortunately, "Saving lives and getting to class on time" could become a blog series... she's much better now but it was a scary afternoon).  It had been a busy day.  But I hadn't spent any time in the Word.

As I write this, it's 11:30pm.  Guess what I still haven't done today?

Yeah, that nearly-completed blog-post is going to have to wait until tomorrow.  I've got an important appointment to fulfill a promise.  Actually, two promises.  One to Amber and one to the Lord.

There are days when getting into the Word is the last thing on the to-do list and prayer seems like a waste of time.  I have a lot of those days, I'll be honest.

But I'm slowly learning to push through.  I try to read the Bible even though I'd rather be reading be reading a fiction novel. I try to pray even though I'd rather be in conversation with my (not dying) suitemates.

To an extent, that's normal.  There is a fine line between establishing a healthy habit, persisting even when you're "not feeling it" and going through the motions.  Find that line.  Persevere.  Even if it feels a little insincere.

"What we call insincerity, God calls obedience." - Jonathan Martin  "Sometimes God's doing the most profound changing in your life when you don't feel His presence but you keep showing up."

Keep showing up.  Even when it's hard.

Ok, for real now.  "Today" has become "yesterday" and the book of Exodus still calls. 

Friends, what have you read today?

<>< Katie

Give Thanks

"Happy Thanksgiving," said the man on the other end of the phone.  Those two words caught my off guard and it wasn't just because the phone was answered on the first ring.

Every holiday my dad answers the phone by wishing the caller a happy day.  Happy Thanksgiving.  Merry Christmas.  Happy New Year.  Happy Labor Day... you get the idea.  I've listened to him do this all my life, but we've always been on the same side of the phone.

"Happy Thanksgiving," I choked back.

Two words was all he needed to recognize my voice, and I heard the smile in his.  For the next hour we played "Pass the phone" with my nine relatives.

I was told that this year our family was not separated by gender.  Instead of men in the kitchen and women in the dining room, all nine of them fit around the dining room table.  Somebody got the bright idea that they should all share something they're thankful for.  I'm thankful I wasn't there for Sap Fest.

Christina: I'm thankful for Jesus.
Aunt: I'm thankful for our family and that we don't fight.
Uncle: [to my aunt] I'm thankful we're not facebook friends.
Grandma: I'm thankful we're all alive and here and...
Mom: I'm thankful Laura loves her college, and they were able to "unbreak" our dog.
Dad: I'm thankful we're all healthy. [insert sappy sermon here]
Grandpa: I'm thankful for your momma and that she puts up with me.  I love her.

I've never heard my grandparents express love to each other.  Love pats here and there but sassiness is more common.  For my grandfather to compliment my grandmother and say he loves her in front of all of those people made Grandma cry.  I've seen the video to prove it.

How was your Thanksgiving this year?  Was it the typical sweet potatoes, turkey, and pumpkin pie?  Was it merely a the precursor to Christmas?  Or was it really a time of reflection and thankfulness? 

My friend Caitlin is extending Thanksgiving for a year.  For the next 365 days she's going to share something she's thankful for.  I'd love to be able to do the same thing.  Look at every day with the realization that I do have something to be thankful for.

Even when it rains.  Even when my suitemates pick on me.  Even when my computer refuses to cooperate.

I still can be thankful.  I can still tell someone I am thankful for their influence in my life.  Thankful for their love.  Their smile.  Their encouraging word.

I can tell Christ I am thankful for His sacrifice.  Thankful for His love.  Thankful for His controlling, disciplining hand.

I wasn't going to post about being thankful.  After all, it's Thanksgiving.  That's kind of the cliche thing to do, right?  Wrong.  It's something we need to do more often than we do.  Not just on the fourth Thursday of November.  Be thankful around the year.

Cyber friends, I am thankful for you.

<>< Katie

GIGATT

My heart was not in the right place last night.  It was one of those days where all of the little things add up and get to you until the smallest thing causes a waterfall.  Someone asks you what's wrong and you can't come up a reason worth crying.

Sure, your unreliable internet spent more time in the "cannot connect" phase than the "connected" phase, but that's not worth crying over.  Your laundry was disrespected in the community laundry room, but that's a perk of college life.  Today's caf food and your stomach are having an argument, but it will work itself out eventually.  A playful sass from your suitemates crossed the invisible line, but that's all (supposedly) backed with love.  And you ran out of blaze orange notecards before you were done making notes.  But none of those seem to justify the tears.

"Can't one thing just go right please, Lord," I said out loud, much to the chagrin of my sleeping roommate.

I walked into the bathroom to take out my contacts before they were permanently glued to my watery eyes.  A drying shirt slung over the shower curtain caught my eye.  Big white letters on a black shirt.

GIGATT

It was as if Andy's bouncy ball hit me in the face.

God is Good.

All The Time

Thanks.  I needed that.

I bought this Peder Eide shirt to wear on days where things aren't going too well just so people ask me what my shirt says.  Telling them, "God is good all the time" is a great reminder for myself, too.

GIGATT, friends, ATTGIG,
<>< Katie

Debated Words

My suitemates and I have taken a stab at songwriting.  Most of us are either musically inclined or wordsmiths.  It's a great combination.

A few days ago, Jennifer had a beautiful concept for a song and ideas on what she wanted to proclaim in the verses, so we tried to write it.

We talked it out.  We free wrote.  We prayed.  We played with chords.  We were having a hard time.  Every word was deliberate and discussed.

Two hours later, we had a grand total of twenty-two words.

We were pleased yet simultaneously, I was little frustrated that it was taking so long.  Let's be honest: I'm a bit verbose.  Yes?  If I spent two-solid hours writing I would hope to have at least 700 words.  But they would not be as planned as these twenty-two words were.  They would be much less deliberate.  I would not debate them like we did those song lyrics.  They are not repeated as frequently as a song, even one only six of us know.

It got me thinking about the words that come out of my mouth.  Am I flippant in what I say or are they well-chosen?  Does each sentence run through a filter before it runs off my tongue?  Am I careful is what I say and how I say it?

The truthful answer is no.  But I should be.

"May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, O LORD, my Rock and my Redeemer." Psalm 19:14

<>< Katie

The Mirror

Sometimes I want to have a "Did you know?" blog series.  My brain is filled with random things that I enjoy making people stop and go "Wait, what?" 

Examples:
Did you know, watermelon floats?
Did you know, shaving cream cleans tables?
Did you know, dry erase markers write on mirrors?

The other morning, I stumbled into the bathroom to find two notes.

"Amy, I'm not going to class.  It's a stress/sleep thing.  Love, Liz."

"Jen, you're beautiful.  Love, Nikki."

Still half asleep, I brushed my teeth and didn't think anything of it.

Ten minutes later I ventured into the bathroom again and found a whole new set of notes.

KATIE!
We love you!  We hope you have a wonderful day!  Your beautiful face here: : )
PS: Please wash the mirror.

The mirror was covered in purple notes!  And my sweet suitemates earned their keep.  Their simple action put a smile on my face all day long.

Do something simple and make someone's day today.

PS: I didn't wash the mirror.

<>< Katie

Sleepovers: College Style

Allyson said over the summer she'd get really homesick for our suite, so she would go through and read my old blogs about some of the crazy things we did. This post is really for Allyson, but if you want to read it, too, that's allowed.

Jennifer had finished doing her devotion, we had said good-night, and we were both in bed trying to fall asleep. Well, I was making a mental list of what hurts because I'm getting sick, and she was trying to plug in her phone. Either way, we were both headed to dreamland when the door burst open and light revealed a silhouette in the doorway.

“Jennifer!” Allyson whisper-shouted. “Jennifer!”

Allyson skipped into the dark room and jumped onto Jennifer’s bed. She had something important to tell Jennifer, but she forgot what it was. Instead we just sat there giggling. Shortly thereafter, Nikki ran into the room.

“FEET!” I shouted to remind her that I have them.

I’m still not really sure how this happened.  You need to know, my bed is waist high.  My waist, not Nikki's.  Normally she falls on it and it's really awkward and humorous to watch.  This time, I was in my bed and she somehow leaped onto the bed, dodged my feet, flipped over me, and positioned herself right up against the wall.

Amy heard our giggles and screaming and came to investigate. She hopped onto Jennifer’s bed and the three of them sat cross-legged while we told stories, teased each other, and laughed. It was kind of like a sleepover. Minus the sleep part, but does that really happen at sleepovers anyway?

Like all good things, this too came to an end. Nikki left first, followed by Allyson, but Amy stayed to tuck Jennifer and me in again. As she was closing the door, Jennifer and I let out child-like cries.

“Allyson! Allyson! You have to sing us a lullaby.”

She complied and allowed us to pick our song of choice. I said the first lullaby that popped into my head, “My Little Buck-a-roo.” Allyson stood in the middle of our room, invented the song and accompanying dance moves on the fly, and made us laugh so hard we had to use the restroom.

We got lost on the way back from the bathroom and ended up in Amy and Allyson’s room. Jennifer on Amy’s bed and me on Allyson’s. Nikki stood in the middle and told us a thrilling fairy tale about how Allyson is the keeper of the butterfly bodies because she is so pure. Thus begins the tradition of bedtime storytelling by Nikki Raye.

Before the end of year we will each have individual stories by the lovely and talented Nikki Raye. Each will be told orally, recorded, drawn, and published for Amy to someday use in her classroom. The stories completed are: Allyson, Queen of the Butterflies and Nikki, The Lovely and Vicious Princess Finds her Prince (told by Katie and starring Jennifer and Amy).  Mine will probably be a horror story that will not be appropriate for young audiences...

After a knocking-through-the-walls rendition of "Jingle Bells" we were all in our respective beds and ready for a good, long night of z-catching.  Shockingly most of us still managed eight hours of sleep.  Elizabeth was jealous she missed this camaraderie.

<>< Katie

My Friends Hate Me

Today words are not my friends.  They've been really mean to me lately.  They're tripping over each other as they fall from my mouth.  They clog like an ink blot as they're scratched from my pen.  They hate me.  And I hate it.

When technology and I don't get along, when my suitemates pick on me, when the world seems to be against me, I still have my word-friends to back me up.  Except now.

Who am I if I cannot cooperate with the English language?

I am still a daughter of God, a friend, a roommate.  I'm still a role model, a team leader, and a big sister.  But I am not me.  I am a writer.  This is what I do.  What do you do when you can't do what you do?

You blog about it.  But then you remember what Sherman Alexie said, "Every word on your blog is a word not in your book."  I guess I'm nostalgic for my book.  I reread and tweek scenes, but it isn't the same.  Sure, I still have some of the excitement about someday finishing it but that someday apparently isn't today.

I.  Am.  Frustrated.

<>< Katie

Peppermint Mocha, Please

Well, I did it.  I found the perfect place to sit and write.  I could sit there for hours undisturbed.  It was quiet and there weren't a lot of people to watch.  It seemed pretty much perfect.  Except it's three hours from my house.  Dang it!

I don't care.  Let me tell you about it.  It's Radio Shack.  Well, sort of.  Buried deep inside this Radio Shack was a little cafe that had three very important things: coffee, wifi, and wine.  Ok, so I'm not quite 21 yet and I don't really care for wine, but I would be willing to take up wine-drinking just to sit there with a glass as I mulled over words.  They can't serve it by the glass, but you can buy a bottle and drink your wine... in Radio Shack.

Well, the Radio Shack Cafe was a fail since it's so far away.  Instead I tried the library.  My suitemates think I loathe libraries.  I don't.  Just our campus library because it's outdated and feels like a dungeon.  The public library was a great suggestion!  I was impressed.  It had almost everything I wanted in a writing spot:
Quiet- check
Minimal distractions- check
View of the lake- check
Desk/workspace- check
Comfy chair- semi-check... better than the spindle one at home
Coffee- negative
Outlet for my computer- negative
However, I'm not a big coffee drinker and caffeine gives me a headache, so I can sacrifice that.  As for the plug, well, if I go with my computer fully charged it lasts two hours and that's how long I have on the parking meter, too.  It passes the test of day one.  I'll just pray the old man who was reading over my shoulder sits somewhere else next time.

Later that same day, I had a meeting with my boss for my writing internship.  We met at Starbucks, thus I was able to have my tall caffeine-free peppermint mocha.  We then sat on the patio and worked.  More accurately: I sat on the patio; Matt paced.  This was our second "pacing session" where he discusses, draws, demonstrates, dreams while I throw out ideas and write feverishly.  Since we met in a coffee shop, this officially fulfills aspects of my "Coffee-Shop Dwelling Writer" dream.  I can only hope that Matt has a dream to be the "Weirdo pacing and talking outside of a busy Starbucks."

 “Be yourself. Above all, let who you are, what you are, what you believe, shine through every sentence you write, every piece you finish.” ~ John Jakes

<>< Katie

To-do List

In February, sitting on my desk was a to-do list:

• Email staff writers
• Read for African American lit
• Read Playboy of the Western World
• Read Orchid of the Bayou
• write poem
• ILL for class (Inter-library Loan)
• change oil in car
• buy ink
• pointless paperwork

I returned from class to learn my to-do list has been modified:

• Harass Lizzie Poo about writing her articles
• Get scoliosis from African American lit book
• Read Playboy
• Read about the woman who won't go blind in "Orchard" of the Bayou
• blog a book review
• write poems
• be ill for class
• clean the apartment
• sanitize hands
• blog about it
• learn to play guitar (more than four chords)
• blog
• sanitize door knobs
• eat cheese
• blog
• Wii (but not the skiing Wii)
• Make cheese dip for sweet suitemates
• Blog
• Be mocked by Nikki

Thanks.

Actually, that last one has been crossed off... several times.

For two weeks we kept a sass chart known as "Mockery Madness." Every time someone sassed me they earned a point (except Andy who earned a drawing...). Sassing kind of became a game but we used golf-scoring meaning whoever had the lowest score won.

Our predictions were accurate: Nikki lost by a landslide and Jo won. Nicole didn't really earn her point until after the week was over, but we put it on there anyway since she's never here long enough to sass me. Melia avoided me for two weeks because she didn't want to be a smart alec on accident and get her name on the chart. Danielle earned all of her points in one night. Andy joined several days late and almost came in dead last. Even our campus minister, Neal, found his way on our sass chart. Unfortunately no one remembers what he said but we remembered it was really good and I threw a grape at him to retort.

After a few days we decided we needed a new category: physical sass. These points are exactly what they sound like: someone touched me for the sole purpose of being a vexation. Physical touch is valued in our apartment and hugs, back rubs, and new hairdos are welcome. On the other hand, being poked while trying to stand still on the Wii, being hit in the face with a goldfish (cracker), having my cell phone stolen, being assaulted with a bouncy ball, and being kicked in the back of my knee just so I fall over are not welcome.

I should be honest: we all pick on each other. However, I have a different accent and unique diction than the rest of my friends, so I'm an easy target. It's really not fair. Just because I can use words like "TYME machine" and "schluck" does not give you permission to mock me. :-) Oh, and I get mocked for sounding too northern so I throw in a "hey yall" and get mocked for sounding too southern. I just can't win!

It was during these two weeks of Mockery Madness that we decided mocking is a love language, at least in my life. Every person that sassed me did it because they love me. In fact, every single one of them took a moment throughout the week to also build me up and encourage me. Maybe the encouragement doesn't happen as frequently as the sass does, but that's ok as long as the both exist.

After all, if we're going to call each other brothers and sisters in Christ, we need to fight like brothers and sisters do. Make sure your sibling rivalries aren't one-sided. Build each other up in brotherly love, too. (Yes, I'm preaching to myself, Mom, I know).

<><>

The Suite Life

The first and last time I bribe my suitemates to dinner by volunteering to drive in the snow...
Katie: Okay, girls, I'm going downstairs to get my laundry. When I come back we're going to dinner. Five minutes.
Elizabeth: We need ten minutes.
Katie: Be fast! I'm hungry, and I have a headache.
Nikki: I think Katie's just crabby because she hasn't blogged today.
Katie: I HAVE blogged today which you'd know if you ever read my blog.
Elizabeth: I think Katie should go blog again.
Katie: Seven minutes! You just wasted three sassin' me.

Twenty minutes later
Katie: Girls. Car. Now. Hungry. Headache. Remember?
Nikki: Go scrape the snow off; we'll wait here. Pull the car up right here on the sidewalk for us.
Katie: You want it on the second floor, too?

A few minutes later
Elizabeth: I'm wet!
Amy: KATIE!! Nikki hit me with a snowball.
Katie: Nikki, get in the car!
Amy: You need to drive me to the hospital.
Katie: I'm not driving you to the hospital.
Amy: But it hurt me!
Katie: Then you can borrow my bike, but this car is headed to the caf. Nikki Raye, get in the car!
Elizabeth: I'm cold, Roommate, close the door.
Nikki: I've hit two of my eight roommates with snowballs! No, I mean, two of my seven roommates. I'm going to get them all!
Amy: You're going to get yourself, too? There are only seven of us total.
Katie: Hit me with a snowball, and you're walking back from dinner.

At dinner
Amy: How's your headache?
Katie: Annoying enough that I've decided to name it: Amy Nikki Elizabeth.
Elizabeth: Why am I last?
Katie: Because you took my car keys. Give them back or we're all walking, and I have no problem walking in snow.
Elizabeth: [giggling] I don't have them!
Katie: I don't know which one of you has them at the present moment, but I know all three of you are equally guilty.

After dinner
Elizabeth: ["whispering" from the passenger seat to the back seat] Hey, Nikki, did you ever talk to Tony about that thing?
Nikki: Huh?
Elizabeth: You know! Amy, I think you were there, too.
Katie: Why are you trying to talk in code if Nikki and Amy were both there? Clearly you're trying to hide your secret from me. I'm a bit more perceptive than you've given me credit for being, thank you very much.
Nikki: Katie, let's just say things happen in our apartment that you wouldn't approve of.
Katie: Well, as long as they don't happen in, what bedroom am I? C! As long as they don't happen in C.
Amy: Well, there were two men in there...
[all three burst out laughing]
Katie: Stop breathing; you're fogging up the windshield.
Nikki: Oh, Kax. Hey! So I finally registared on the Wii today and it asked me if I was your friend. I sat there for a minute and thought before I decided to click yes.
Katie: You are not my friend right now.
Nikki: I'm sorry I hit you with that snowball.
Katie: No you're not but I forgive you.
Nikki: You're right: I'm not. [evil Nikki cackel]

Just before bed when I emerged from my bedroom for the first time in a few hours
Adam: Katie, were you doing your thing in there that whole time?
I gave him a confused look. Where I'm from, we always say "Mom, Puke did his thing" to mean "the cat threw up," and no, I did not vomit.
Allyson: Blogging.
Katie: Oh, no. I was writing.
Adam gave me a face that said, "There's a difference?" Silly science major.

This was last night. We walked tonight. Who knew it could take twenty minutes to walk less than a mile...
<>< Katie

Sweet Suitemates

Reason number 5,602 why I love my suitemates

Yesterday in the car in the Sonic parking lot:
"Amy, do you want hand sanitizer?" Nikki asked.
"No, I'm good," Amy responded.
"Amy's going to get swine flu," I taunted. Swine flu doesn't scare me. Seven people living in close quarters, and one of them being sick scares me.
"Nikki," Amy said giving me a dirty look, "Can I have the hand sanitizer?"

Two minutes later:
"Does anyone care if I drive while eating my burger?" Elizabeth asked. "Katie?"
"As long as you're still safe," I told her. Gosh, they know me too well. :-)

Ten minutes later:
"Anyone want my last cheese stick?" Nikki asked the car. "They're just too big to shove in the last one. The last fry, no problem, but that last cheese stick is too heavy."
"I'll take it. I was watching you eat them before thinking about how good they looked, but I wasn't going to ask for on because you only get like six, so it's perfect that you offered the last one," I said smiling as I ate a mozzarella stick.
"How perfect. Oh, and you shouldn't have been afraid to ask me for the cheese stick because I love you more than I love cheese sticks. And you love cheese."
"Yeah, and I need to watch how much cheese I eat."
"We'll get you some fiber cereal, too."
Thanks, girls.

Reason Number 5,603
Today Allyson and I walked out of our bedrooms at the same time and smiled at each other across the kitchen. Her hand was in the air and she was kind of posed. Most girls probably would have snapped her hand down quickly and turned red, embarrassed she was just caught. Not Allyson. For the next ten minutes, she and I danced around the living room to "Desert Song" by Hillsong.

Reason Number 5,604
We cleaned together today. Sounds pretty basic but for an hour this afternoon our apartment was a cleaning machine! It needed to be done, and six of us were around to do it (Amy was exempt because she was home for the weekend). We've kind of envisioned Sunday afternoon cleaning as a suite but in the six months we've lived together it had yet to come to fruition. Today it finally did! Most of us just did the chores that we enjoy, but some of us did chores we don't like (yay, Eizabeth!). We listened to each other, got out of each others' way, and even organized the honkin' huge closet.
"Let me know if I'm in your way."
"No, you let ME know if I'm in YOUR way."

God's placed some great girls in this apartment, and I feel incredibly blessed.

<>< Katie
Reason number 5,605
My suitemates are currently licking all of the silverware and putting it back in the drawer just so I have to rewash everything before I eat here again.

Freudian Slips

I am a writer. I love words. That doesn't mean words always love me. In fact, sometimes I think I speak really awkwardly. I don't always think before words come flying through my mouth, or I think too late to fix the bad statement. Just for laughs, this are my latest Freudian slips...

Last night, Adam called Allyson and I played secretary. I told him she was unavailable at the moment and I would have her call him when she became available again. Confused, Adam hung up. I made an effort to defend my moderately odd way of beating around the bush: I was not going to tell Adam that his girlfriend was in the shower. Face it, most people shower naked. While I like to think Adam isn't going to leap into the gutter, I wanted to protect Allyson from an awkward situation and took the humiliation on myself when I tried to explain. It came out poorly as I announced to my busy living room filled with a co-ed audience, "Some girls don't like to talk about showering with guys."

As we were leaving the bowling alley on Sunday, I told Josh I had to go because my group was mobilizing. Except it kind of got mixed up with "group is moving" and sounded shockingly southern as it came out, "My groupe is movilizing." Later, I was laughing to myself about how badly that conversation could have ended and I told my friends (all female) what had happened. Well, when I tried to say "groupe is movilizing" I messed it up worse and said, "My grope is boobilizing." Yeah, that was the worse case scenario I had envisioned in my head. It's going to be a long time before they let me live this one down.

Amy asked me to send a text message on her phone. Well, she uses T9 and I don't. I much prefer to type out every individual letter of the words and I can do it rather quickly. In fact, more quickly than I could have using T9. I tried to type, "We are coming" but it ended up, "Bacon accountant."

It's no wonder my roommates like to make fun of me: I'm an easy target. :-)

I'd love to hear about your Freudian slips. Or I suppose you can remind me of some of my other ones because, well, I have a lot of them. :-)

Learning to laugh at myself,

<>< Katie

PS: I composed this blog this morning and then had a great slip this afternoon. Nikki and I work for the same department and our latest project requires us to spend long hours in Dr. T's office. Today, as we were sitting there working, I looked at her and said, "Nikki, all of our Nikki-Katie time is in Dr. T's office. We're nerdy enough to do that." Well, she heard, "Nikki, all of our Nikki-Katie time is in Dr. T's office. We're dirty enough to do that."

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.

Door Decks

Last night at 11:30pm when I sat down to blog, no words were here, and I wanted to be in bed in the next half-hour. I'd had a plethora of ideas throughout the day, but they had all vanished. Instead of blogging, I spent the last half hour of my day talking to my sweet suitemates. Sorry, few faithful readers.

Yesterday was Tony's birthday, and I felt it necessary to give him a birthday blog. The problem is that I don't really have a lot of stories about Tony (except the time he got bit by a squirrel but I've already written about that). This morning we were both in the computer lab at the same time and he laughed as he asked me how many blogs I have. Only two: a personal blog and a work/school blog.

This semester, Tony is my RA. This means he's responsible for making our door-decks (aka name tags for the door). Several of the girls in my apartment don't go by their proper names. Well, our door-decks all say our proper names. Tony knows us and should have known to change the names. So we were giving him a hard time about it.

"Ok, listen," he said. "Keith was there when I was making the door-decks, and when I said, 'Which name should I use?' He got this devious look on his face and kind of laughed--"

"Are we ready to go to dinner?" Keith asked bursting in to our apartment in the middle of Tony's story. All of our eyes darted from Tony to Keith. Drama Queen Keith figured out what story was being told, grunted, and stormed out of the apartment.

"KEITH!" We screamed, running after him to take our anger out on him instead of Tony. Love you, Keith.

Happy birthday, Tony! We now know the truth: you are mostly innocent in the instance of the mislabeled door-decks.

<>< Katie