Kaile

I have a niece, Kaile, who died when she was 2. I was 7. It's a tragic tale that I don't feel the need to talk about yet. But the thought occurred to me that next month would have been her 16th birthday. You know where I was when I was 16? I was in Paris. I landed in Paris on my 16th birthday. I was with my dad, I was taking this incredible opportunity to perform in Paris and London with orchestra. I was performing piano in Paris when I was 16. And Kaile would be 16 pretty soon. What kind of mischief would she have gotten herself into?

I'm finding that I'm not thinking of her as often as I used to. I didn't think of her that much when I was younger, and then I started to when I was around middle school. I used to think of her at least once a month. I don't think I've thought of her for months now. I feel like a horrible auntie. How can you forget to remember the first person you ever remember falling in love with?

This paper is really hard to do because I'm finding out how hard my heart has gotten. I haven't been paying attention in life. I need to pay attention. I need to remember. Anyway.

The Bird. (not for the faint of heart!)

Today, I legitimately flipped the bird at someone for the first time. I mean. I've done it jokingly with my friends. I've done it in the car under the steering wheel just to get the feeling of satisfaction. But I've never actually done it with intention and without regret. If I ever do anything mean to someone... I always feel shaky and regretful after... because I'm a nice girl... and nice girls don't just flip some random guy off. But I just felt so... ROAR!!!!!!!!! Empowered!! Like I made a statement to a deserving d-bag.

The scene was this: I walked out of Coldstone, like it-size chocolate icecream with M&Ms in hand, with my roommate. We got to her car, when we heard a squealing of rubber on pavement, followed by a, "WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING YOU DUMB BITCH!!!" A red pick up blazed by, nearly knocking this poor girl off her feet. As the truck went by, without hesitation, I raised my middle finger, hand following truck as it passed, a giant "FUCK YOU!" being lip-synched by yours truly. Sir Dickwad certainly saw it and exchanged obscenities, but by that time I was in the car and getting ready to go the opposite direction.

So maybe the guy could have stopped and beaten the crap of me. It was probably the wrong idea at the time. I probably shouldn't have treated a child of God in that way. But the action was so automatic... and it felt so GOOD. I should voice my opinion more often.

if a black cat crosses your path... something about your grandmother's back... or wait... that's step on a crack... nevermind.

Tonight, as I got out of my night class from St. John's, I heard a meow coming from the monastic gardens. I paused and looked around curiously and then continued. I saw a black cat emerge from the darkness and sit in front of me under a light. I said hello and continued on my way. The black cat looked at me curiously, and then began to follow me. I stopped. It stopped. I walked, it walked. I sped up, it sped up. I slowed down, it ran ahead of me, realized that I wasn't there, and stopped... and waited for me. I walked again and chuckled to myself. The cat walked closer and closer and closer to me. I don't know if it realized I was about to kick it with my feet, but it started weaving in between my legs as I walked, causing me to pause and start laughing out loud. "WHAT DO YOU WANT, CAT!!??" I asked of it. It looked up at me, sat on my feet, and meowed. I wiggled my feet, "Dude, cat, you gotta move your butt." It scurried off my feet and continued to dodge my legs as I continued my trek up to Sexton from Emmaus. I started to play with it a little. I stopped. Cat stopped. I jumped to the right. Cat ran to the right. I jumped to the left. Cat ran to the left. I faked right and went left and the cat totally fell for it. I laughed again. I passed Tommy Hall on my way up to the water fountain, where I was planning to sit and stare at the cat for awhile as I waited for my bus... and possibly call life safety and let them know that one of the monks must have lost their cat. The cat stayed back by Tommy Hall and didn't go any further. We engaged in a staring contest for awhile. The cat wouldn't move, and neither would I. It went and started meowing at all the guys walking into Tommy. I almost cried when one idiot boy hissed at it. Jerk. The cat ran away and stopped in front of Simon Hall, where it parked it's butt and laid down. I observed a young man walked in the direction of the cat. The young man stopped in his tracks and stared at the cat, unsure of what to do. He took a tentative step forward, and then another, and the cat didn't even look up at him. By now I'm cracking up... this is truly hilarious. The young man looks at me, "what the heck??" written all over his face. He pointed to the cat. I shrugged. He shrugged and yelled at me, "That's frickin creepy." hahaha. Then some idiot boys scared the cat and it hid in the bushes. Poor cat. I hope that I can be reunited with it one day. Easily the highlight of my day. Hands down. Or should I say... paws down. baha.

I might be seeing friends from high school when I go home for Thanksgiving. The majority of these friends I haven't talked to since about January. These friends... sometimes I think that we have the kind of friendship that we could just pick up right where we left off... but I don't know. Maybe I don't think the majority of them are my friends after all. Maybe I think they should have put more into the friendship for these past four years. Maybe I do think that I tried, and maybe I don't regret giving up like I did. Maybe I don't think being boys is an excuse. Maybe I am really hurt by it, and maybe the disappointment of losing their friendship during the months I'm at school has severely affected how I currently approach friendships. Maybe I don't really want to see them.

But I still do. I still want to hold onto the hope that there's something left to salvage... that maybe I'm being too serious... that maybe they still care about me despite the fact that even though I've visited all of them in school or that I've left notes on their facebook once in awhile to simply check in on them. I do think I deserve the kinds of friends who want to approach me and invite me places sometimes, and who will be open to me taking the initiative once in awhile. I don't think that the current state of most of the friends I have from high school reflects that kind of friendship that I long for... but I still want to hold on to hope that it will change... that maybe, when I made that promise to myself my senior year of high school to never lose them... maybe I won't lose them.

And let's be 100% honest here... when I saw them, I was 242 pounds. I am currently 205 pounds. If I work hard enough and if fred doesn't make me retain water beforehand... I very well might be in "one-derland"... FINALLY... under 200 pounds. I worked really hard to get to this point. I am still working hard for this. My battle with losing weight isn't just physical in nature... it has definitely been an emotional and spiritual battle as well. And I'm coming out victorious. I would love to just show off my hard work to them. I would love to surprise them... maybe they would realize all that they've been missing.

But maybe they won't notice at all. And that scares me even more. Maybe they don't care enough to notice that I've lost about 35 pounds. Maybe they never cared.

I really don't mean to sound like Miss Lonelyhearts or anything. I am sincerely blessed to have the friends up in Minnesota that I do. I wish that I could be even more myself and more open with these friends... and that will probably come with time... if these friends will even stick after graduation... which is another blog post in itself. I'm just kind of nervous about seeing old friends again. I wouldn't say that I'm excited... I'm caught up in this limbo place where I'm looking forward to the event, but dreading it. Perhaps I would rather stay at home watching Burn Notice with my parents... because my parents have been there for me through thick and thin. Does that make me a bad person? Have you ever had to "break up" with a friend?

I really don't want to break up. I would really love to see my old friendships get back to where they were when we were all in high school. I just don't know how much of a possibility that is anymore.

Anyway. Know that you are loved. Be well. Smile awhile.

Tomorrow is a bus driving day... and since I am the second afternoon driver, according to the new rules, I am allowed to *finally* drive that new bus I've been DYING to drive since my sophomore year. Tomorrow will be a good day.

Housekeeping!!!

Today, instead of thinking about Paul and His Letters, I had a genius idea. I think it's an idea I had a couple years ago... but now that I'm desperate for extra cash again... I remembered it... so I guess I have to say that I remembered a genius idea.

Would people on campus pay someone to clean their bathroom, living room, and kitchen, for $5 per room? Dishes for an additional $3? Tips accepted?

My first thought was... this could work. $15 an apartment could add up over time. I could even give people the option of wanting lemony fresh or unscented cleaning products.

However... would I realllly want to go in a guy's bathroom? I mean... come now. Could anyone pay me enough to go in there without a bio-hazard suit? Am I desperate enough? I'm bordering yes.

And then, at the end of class, I realized just how much I'm turning into my mother. My mother cleaned houses after she got a divorce to support herself and her two daughters. And now... maybe I'll be a cleaning lady, too. It could be good. My Mom met my dad that way.

Food for thought... food for thought...

Before I die... I want to know why I'm alive.

What makes your heart skip a beat? What gets you so excited that you can't fall asleep because you keep thinking about it? What is your biggest passion? What makes you feel alive? What makes you feel so alive that you can feel the wind blow between each of your fingers?

It used to be bus driving. I used to feel really excited to go drive the bus. Granted, I still do... but definitely not the extent that I used to. I asked for some divine help at the start of the year to help me fizzle out my desire to drive the bus... because I knew that if I didn't get a hold of it, I would really miss driving the bus too much after I graduate. I at least wanted to take the focus off of my current job, and if I could refocus that energy to another job, that would be fantastic... but for now... I just have to detach myself from my job.

But aside from the bus driving... what exactly am I passionate about? What gets my blood going? What brings tears to my eyes?

Is it cheesy to admit that one of these passions is God? I thrive off of my conversations with God in whatever form they take... whether it's Mass, taking a walk around the lake, volunteering, or even having conversations with other people about anything at all (God is present in everyone after all, correct?). I love learning little intimate details about people's lives... like what they were like in 3rd grade, or what they think or how they feel about life and love and why. I love God so, so deeply, and the love that I have for God is definitely carried over into my relationships with my friends, and sometimes my family.

I am very passionate about people and about having relationships with people... regardless of the type of relationship. I love getting to know people, spending time in the presence of people, laughing and crying and frolicking with people. I love to love others. I remember when I was in high school, I asked God what He wanted me to do with my life... and I heard a distinct response, which was a simple, "Love." There are some areas in which I need to learn how to love people a little better. But for the most part... I just love to love. Granted, this doesn't help me pick out a career. I guess it gives me a little flexibility... I think that's why I love bus driving so much--because I can be that person who is there smiling for you a real genuine toothy smile when you get on the bus after you just had the most stressful test of your life.

I always feel so much better when I'm volunteering. I think if I volunteered more, I would be happier. I volunteered all the time in high school... and now that I'm in college... I just don't. But I love to. It's what I do. Maybe that's part of why I don't feel content all the time at college... because I'm not doing what I love.... loving others. I mean I volunteer at least once a month. But I could do more. I remember one time I volunteered at the Place of Hope my freshman year... in the fall... when I knew no one. It was awesome. Why haven't I kept that up? Hm? I always felt so ALIVE in high school when I planned and led retreats and IGNITE nights and did my peer ministry thing and my justice and service things. What stopped me in college??? What's my deal??

I just love people. I love to love. Loving makes my heart skip a beat and makes me so happy inside. I love to reach out to people who don't get loved that often and just love them. And I really love God. I could sit in adoration for hours and just sit there and love Jesus.

So. Loving others and loving God makes my heart skip a beat and makes me feel the wind between my fingers. I don't really know what the heck I'm going to do with that though. But anyway. Fin.

Is Chivalry Dead?

The other evening I ate a delicious apple-cinnamon muffin at a local dining establishment with a couple friends at a homework party. The muffin was even beyond delicious... it was warm and full of love and pretty much exactly what my little tummy was seeking after a long day of sneezing and sniffling. At the end of the evening as we were paying for the food we consumed, I went to pull out my $5 bill to take care of my delectable muffin, when one of my friends quickly told the waitress to put my order with his. At first I protested, as I was ready and able to take care of it, and I ordered it with the intention to pay for it, but he insisted, and I would be stupid to just let the opportunity pass me by. I mean, if the man wanted to pay for my food, then let him pay for it! He said, "I'm just trying to be a gentleman. Is chivalry dead?"

And so I thought about it. My mom has beaten it into my head that I need to be independent and responsible for myself and myself only. I cannot and should not rely on a man or become dependant on him for anything. If I have a problem, I have to figure out my own solution. In general, I don't like asking people for help. I don't like having to admit that I need someone to cover my work shift because I'm sick... I'd rather just power through it and take the responsibility. I don't like asking for rides to the airport... but sometimes I just have to admit that I cannot afford a round trip airport shuttle, as it's the cost of half a plane ticket. In my last dating relationship, I felt bad when he paid for me at first (though I did warm up to it eventually and did some leg pulling to make it happen... heh heh). I don't really care if anyone opens a door for me or not... either way, that door is opening, and I'm going through it. I would prefer to just take care of myself... not only because it's been beaten into my brain... but because many times in the past, people have failed me and screwed me over when I tried to depend on them just a little bit.

So what's wrong with a young man paying for an apple-cinnamon muffin? Why is it so hard to do? It was a nice and generous offer made out of the kindness of his sweet little heart. Granted, the muffin was only $2.50, and in the grand scheme of things, not a big deal... but the offer was just so different to what I've been accustomed to that it really took me aback. It's an action that still left some kind of imprint on me... that someone would care enough to pay for my delicious $2.50 apple-cinnamon muffin, just because he's my friend. I didn't even have to guilt him into it... he just did it without a second thought. It's so strange to me that someone would actually do that. It's not a bad thing, either... maybe I *have* been under a ton of stress especially in this past week trying to figure my life out and how to pay for that random $3000 I owe the school somehow... maybe I *do* try to be too independent... maybe my independent streak causes me more stress than it should and sometime I'm going to have to learn how to trust other people with parts of myself... even if it's as small and simple as a $2.50 muffin. Maybe he didn't have any ulterior motives behind paying for it. Maybe it really was an act of kindness. Maybe I just need to stop being so suspicious of people and just trust.

I mean. For pete's sake... it's a muffin. I took the muffin to a spiritual level. It was a witness of God's love for me... that sometimes I flat out tell God that I don't trust him to take care of me, and that I would like to one day, but today it's just not gonna happen. Sometimes I look at offers that God gives me for happiness and I don't trust in that goodness and instead, try to handle things my way. My friend's nice action was an example of God's love for me, and how God doesn't just provide for me because he wants something in return... he does it because he loves me.

So if chivalry is dead, then we should probably work at bringing it back. If free muffins are in my future, maybe I want to embrace my future. Maybe life doesn't have to be so bleak and stressful because maybe I don't have to do it alone. Maybe there should be people willing to open doors and pay for your muffins because they are being chivalrous... they are being examples of God's love for you... and you should just accept it.