tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12161821094473369702024-03-13T03:17:10.654-04:00this is important stuff we're doing here.katie bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002442138045459234noreply@blogger.comBlogger38125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1216182109447336970.post-85382368368088395262012-02-14T23:11:00.003-05:002012-02-14T23:11:13.473-05:00happy v-day lovers.<span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">My first boyfriend was named Jackson. We “dated” when I was three. We attended the same local swimming pool and I broke up with him when he squirted my friends with his water gun. I’ve always wondered if maybe I peaked too early. It would be insufficient to say that I wasn’t interested in anyone for the many years that followed because that certainly isn’t true. I recall a bad boy named Nathan in my earliest of elementary years who wore a little kid’s black leather jacket. He would pitch such a fit that he would get sent to the principal’s office more often than he was in class. He would refuse to leave his seat and therefore would be simply scooted down the hall, still glued to his chair. What a badass. </span><br /><div><br /><div><br /></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Then there was a boy named Josh. Around the pink linoleum tiles of my cafeteria, there I was- a crushing little third grader. He would do anything to get into trouble. We used to have silent lunches every now and again, when the up and ups thought we were all getting too excited for the next candy-related holiday. When silent lunch went down, the lights were turned off; we were to sit in alphabetical order with one seat in between ourselves and whoever was beside us. Somehow, Josh was assigned to sit right in front of me. The punishment was hated. Suddenly, a few minutes into it, Josh became our fearless leader as he silently plowed down two sandwiches, packed with so much egg salad between the two white slices of bread that it crammed down his throat even faster – the eggs acting as a slick lubricant, mashed with their mayonnaise and mustard fluff. He ate it so fast that in one swift second, he was ralphing. </span></div><br /><div><br /></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">He puked everywhere. There was total outrage, the cries of disgust, the horrifying realization that the egg salad looked exactly the same sitting on the black table, spilling over onto the pink linoleum as it had when he was eating it– it was mass hysteria. The lights were instantly flicked back on; my classmates were jumping out of their seats, swiping up their lunch materials. Josh was whisked away, in my mind he was handcuffed, but that totally didn’t happen. I hopped up too, but I stood in awe of the boy who ended silent lunch. </span></div><br /><div><br /></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">In elementary school, I had short, chin-length hair and bangs. My freckles were my calling card and I thought I was so funny, but I talked too much. I got marks for talking too much. I got ice-cream taken away for talking too much. You see, I would buy my lunch as usual and always pick up a tiny plastic container of strawberry ice-cream and a little wooden spoon. By the time lunch was over, I had talked too much and all I was interested in eating and all I had time for was my ice-cream. I had the best kindergarten teacher anyone could ask for. Although her teacher’s aide– I still believe – had it in for me. She caught onto me tossing out my green beans, corn niblets, and empty ice-cream carton and told my mom. </span></div><br /><div><br /></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">I found out the next day, as my little, slightly pudgy arms reached out for a strawberry ice-cream cup that I had been forbidden to eat ice-cream for the rest of the month. It was taken away. </span></div><br /><div><br /></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">I should have risen up. I should have returned to school the next day with a huge carton of strawberry ice-cream. I should have melted it down and put it in a water gun and squirted her. I should have refused to leave my seat as I sat eating it. I should have eaten so much that I puked sweet strawberry cream. </span></div><br /><div><br /></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">But I didn’t. </span></div><br /><div><br /></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">It’s a funny thing to reflect on being a little kid. I can relate to who I was then more than I can relate to who I have been recently. I hope my lot in life is to return to who I was before I took the ice-cream punishment. Back when I was transfixed by bad boys and wanted to do something stupid, yet totally daring. </span></div><br /><div><br /></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">A Letter to Me from Little KB: </span></div><br /><div><br /></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Things could be worse. It is important to remember, Katie Beth, that things could always be worse. You could have no legs, you could have no heart, you could have no love, and you could have no start. You’re on the very brink of life. You want to see everything. You want to write something, anything, for anyone, any time. You want to pick who you love. </span></div><br /><div><br /></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">But what is holding you back? Nothing should, not at this point. Your brain is amazing. Your thoughts are great. The way you know you can love someone else has only been tapped into, just barely drizzled. </span></div><br /><div><br /></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Sure there are people who will bring you down, people who will confuse you, betray you, and make you feel like you aren’t magnificent. Who cares? </span></div><br /><div><br /></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">You need to squirt people with water guns. You need to pitch a fit and refuse to leave your seat. You need to puke egg salad. You need to eat strawberry ice-cream. </span></div><br /><div><br /></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Love always, </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Little KB (hypothetically, of course) </span></div><br /><div><br /></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">I started this blog with a Valentine’s Day post. I’ve been through many things since I typed those words, but I believe the same things. I believe that love is two lesbians sharing a diet Mountain Dew in a Philosophy class. I believe that those two girls had to overcome a shit-ton of stupidity to get where they are now. I hope they’re doing well. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">For a day solely dedicated to people we love, I am going to spend it with myself. I am going to quietly reflect on how much has happened since I started my little blog two years ago. I’m going to think about who I’ve always wanted to be. I’m going to remember who I was when I was little. And I’m going to listen to my heart. You should, too. </span></div><br /><div><br /></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Oh, and by the way. Bon Iver won some Grammy-time. Called it. </span></div><br /><div><br /></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Happy V-Day Lovers </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Yours, mine, & ours, </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">katie beth</span><br /><br /><br /><div><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 235px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 277px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5709207698809712914" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV2oY4eqWBDIBTb5D9uQkH1rxPDDQVeSkJflKjNdHYLzsHjpsfzHStt7qnSGMmynbV-mlfmEpWgpJK7pQvPOlfbRFzKoGl_V1j4-L5dCeH4HTO-rIoERhHyQAQu68RKx1GJfYPwoDtdMs/s200/lilkb.jpg" /></div></div><br /><div></div></div>katie bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002442138045459234noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1216182109447336970.post-81789282983933838862012-01-05T20:12:00.012-05:002012-01-05T23:53:53.098-05:00inspiration & doll parts.<div align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:180%;color:#ffccff;"><a href="http://pollybecker.com/">POLLY BECKER</a></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">is pretty neat.</span></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 257px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 441px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5694332005213163090" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrz6Nih2xAp2BJguQ5C-2vAGJ4l7kw57rPj0GAzRAS9DKcoPAlo3T-IkxKWHNBoopyhKgBw65L8Dez0kwKCqZsQGeGeG62llU1ZGijNSgZrattButaQOnBE0ptv4StgALpmigZl-IWUGg/s400/pollybecker.bmp" /> <span style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="color:#ffcccc;">One of my Christmas gifts this year came from my mother who bought me a bag full of books on writing. Included in that bag was a copy of the Inspiration Issue of </span><a href="http://www.pw.org/"><span style="color:#ffcccc;"><em>Poets & Writers</em> </span></a><span style="color:#ffcccc;">literary magazine. The article about </span><a href="http://www.pollybecker.com/"><span style="color:#ffcccc;">Polly Becker's artwork </span></a><span style="color:#ffcccc;">was written by Kevin Larimer.</span></span><br /><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Courier New;"><span style="font-size:130%;">She doesn't need much more than her sketchbook, old photos, and doll parts to create little bits of artwork. She takes the old photos and places them at the head to make a sort of throwback macabre paper doll which eerily captures both whimsy and thoughtfulness. She is </span><a href="http://www.pollybecker.com/"><span style="font-size:130%;">Polly Becker </span></a><span style="font-size:130%;">and she is pretty neat.</span></span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span></span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:Courier New;">It's the sort of artwork that goes with any type of music. I can enjoy it just the same while listening to anything. It's classical, it's girly pop, it's grungy, it's hip. I believe I have discovered my own personal holy grail of eye candy. And it tastes like pink strawberry peppermints.</span> </span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:Courier New;">Furthermore, if you get a chance to click through the assemblages of <a href="http://www.pollybecker.com/">Polly Becker</a>, I suggest listening to a shuffle of your tunes, which wouldn't work if you only own the same types of music, but I do believe it brings out the different bits and pieces - shows their personalities.</span><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#ffcccc;">Polly Becker's clients include:</span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:130%;color:#ffcccc;">Absolut</span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#ffcccc;">The Atlantic Monthly</span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#ffcccc;">The New Yorker</span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#ffcccc;">Farrar Strauss & Giroux</span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#ffcccc;">GQ</span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#ffcccc;">MCA Records</span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#ffcccc;">Newsweek</span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcccc;"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;">The New York Times Magazine</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;">Reader’s Digest</span></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcccc;"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;">Rolling Stone</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;">Sony/CBS Records</span></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#ffcccc;">Time</span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#ffcccc;">2X4</span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcccc;"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;">Visual Dialog</span><br /></span><br /></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Courier New;"><span style="font-size:130%;">If someone handed me a Barbie doll right now, I know I would still play with it for a bit. I know I would still urge to fashion dresses out of Kleenexes and ribbons. </span><a href="http://www.pollybecker.com/"><span style="font-size:130%;">Polly Becker's work</span></a><span style="font-size:130%;"> is like a grown-up Barbie doll and I love it.</span></span></div><br /><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:130%;">yours,</span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:130%;">katie beth</span></div>katie bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002442138045459234noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1216182109447336970.post-15132835505371578982012-01-05T00:57:00.010-05:002012-01-05T20:11:46.165-05:002012.<span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Some people complain about this time of year in the land that is Facebook, but I find it very motivational. People are constantly posting things about no one can change things, but YOU - And YOU HAVE THE POTENTIAL - The potential for greatness. It is, after all, a brand new shiny-sparkle year.<br /></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Well, I like it. </span></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">You might have noticed that the blog has received a few cosmetic updates which I might still change - it is a work in progress, but the point is a certain level of change that has needed to be implemented in my life for quite some time. I’m not talking about blog layouts here, people. Mostly this is a post to set the tone for a new year, it is a great time to make commitments within ourselves that ensure we stick to our guns of the things we truly want out of life. </span></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">I can turn into a real slug and feel sorry for myself about sad things that have happened to me, opportunities I believe I missed out on because of myself and because of people around me, but. But. It stops here, because it has to. </span></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">I have ideas and plans within me that deserve the chance to stretch their legs and breathe a little. I very much intend on doing them. </span><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">I would now like to cite my horoscope from my horoscope app on my phone: </span></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><em><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Taurus </span></em></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><em><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Thursday, January 05, 2012 </span></em></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><em><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">You may feel that a certain dream you’ve nurtured for this new year is too far-fetched or lofty to come true. But all you will really need, Taurus, is a little bit of luck to make it happen. And even if you aren’t feeling very lucky right now, you need to realize that you do have the power to make your own luck. Make a point, this year, of taking every opportunity that comes your way, no matter how seemingly small or insignificant. The force will be with you if you seriously pursue your desire, and you maximize every resource and, most importantly, you keep believing. </span></em></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Somebody cue Journey, because I just took it there. </span></div><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">I am tired of my same routines and ins-and-outs. We all need some excitement poured into our morning OJ’s. Well, I don’t know if we all need that, but I sure do. And I intend on getting it. </span></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Have a prosperous <span style="font-size:130%;">2012</span>. </span></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">I will keep you posted on mine. </span></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">yours,<br />katie beth </span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhDDa4MkE82PVv5A3p6O3ibjRBerk7Q_qX9LvGGZjR10hcyoqCOy3Op5hrunjBWEcb5oL1XOARO6S3iLzqLOWiV2c19oqI1aoVPBj7gxpSCZWEnM1C5DAHieqXXJzAvGbs4rvnxrvoTVs/s1600/smokes.jpg"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 343px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 347px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5694024600181764098" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhDDa4MkE82PVv5A3p6O3ibjRBerk7Q_qX9LvGGZjR10hcyoqCOy3Op5hrunjBWEcb5oL1XOARO6S3iLzqLOWiV2c19oqI1aoVPBj7gxpSCZWEnM1C5DAHieqXXJzAvGbs4rvnxrvoTVs/s400/smokes.jpg" /></span></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></span></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"></span></div>katie bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002442138045459234noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1216182109447336970.post-55761448504991073902011-08-13T15:47:00.003-04:002011-08-13T15:59:19.042-04:00i'd buy myself flowers.If I end up alone, I’d buy myself flowers
<br />And make them look like suns and glasses of wine
<br />The little things would hold this great big power
<br />But at the end of the day, they’d surely die.
<br />
<br />So I’d dry them all up and hang each flower around
<br />I’d separate the bouquet and keep each one alone
<br />They’d make not a whisper, they’d make not a sound
<br />It’s not their fault, it’s surely my own
<br />
<br />That I’d make these flowers strangers
<br />When once they were bounded by the lip of their mother vase
<br />What a stupid little bout of danger
<br />What a surely sorry water case.
<br />
<br />Certainly you’d see, if ever my window you walked by,
<br />The vase sitting empty, waiting for the next group of buds to pay their rent
<br />You’d laugh, no, you’d cry
<br />When you knew in an instant, that everyday flowers you surely would have sent
<br />
<br />
<br />To the girl who couldn’t.
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<br />
<br />yours,
<br />katie bethkatie bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002442138045459234noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1216182109447336970.post-36028811550291773072011-07-29T22:24:00.003-04:002011-08-12T23:03:29.908-04:00things i want to tell you.<span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Dearest Reader,
<br />
<br />I don’t feel as if I have been totally honest with you. And it makes me feel a little low. At the start of my blog, I promised to offer the truth, and I always have, but I just want to type out all of this. I want it to be here, it’s a huge part of my life now. So the following is a real account of what I’ve been up to and what I’ve felt and what you’ve missed. It’s a long one, for sure. A really long one. But I can’t leave anything out. It’s all too important.
<br />
<br />::
<br />
<br />I like to keep to myself. I like talking to people, but mostly I keep to myself. So one night, back in last fall, I ventured into a little friendly chat room that I found by googling “free chat rooms” on, obviously, google. And so it popped up, this chat room that had some title about young adults. Or something. Anyway, I don’t know if you know how chat rooms work, so let me give you a tutorial by using a sample conversation:
<br />
<br />Bonnie89: Hey
<br />Clyde87: hello there
<br />Bonnie89:how are you
<br />
<br />And so on and so forth. If there’s anything I’ve learned from watching oodles and boodles of romantic timepiece films, it’s that there is something very special that happens in letters. I love the idea of knowing someone that way, I always thought gees, how stupidly romantic would it be if the whole world reverted back to letters and sweet things. And I didn’t need the whole world to do it, I just wanted someone who wanted it that way, too.
<br />
<br />Well, here’s the thing: there is such a person. And I met this person in that friendly little chat room and we talked. The next night, we talked again. And again. And again. And again. And I found myself looking so forward to this person who I only knew through his letters and words and little typed sayings. I saved the conversations because I felt so wholeheartedly that something just sweetly and quietly profound was happening. And I was right.
<br />
<br />Regardless of how you see the phrase “We met online,” it doesn’t really matter much to me. I mean, in this life and in these bodies we have, let’s be honest, there’s not a whole lot of opportunity to meet someone in a way that keeps you from sweeping into their looks or judging your potential date-book by his or her cover.
<br />
<br />But a tricky thing about meeting someone this way is that, eventually, we wanted to literally meet. And so we did. And it wasn’t easy, especially on my end, trying to get people to hear me out, to believe in something that was pretty avant garde to them. But they did it. Or at least they put on brave faces and tried it. And for that, I am proud of them. I hope their intentions were what I believed. The night before my online friend came to my house, I went to Kroger and bought each of my parents a bouquet of flowers. And in their cards I just said, thank you for being supportive and for being there for me to meet this person that I had built so much with already.
<br />
<br />The person I’m talking about does not live close to me. He lives about ten to twelve hours away from my front door. But he drove right to it.
<br />
<br />On that particular day, my brother and I had morning classes and, en route to them, I know we passed the person I was going to meet later that afternoon. I saw him in his red Blazer, with the window down, and sunglasses on. What a neat thing, huh? To see someone willing to go that far to meet me. Just think about that for a second.
<br />
<br />So I went to school that day. I had an exam, even, which I totally aced. And I walked around campus in my orange backpack, pulling the bottom adjust-y part up and down over and over and just quietly pacing my mind and not feeling nervous in the slightest, just excited. I was ready to meet this person I had talked to nearly every single night and almost every single day for months.
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<br />By about twelve, my class was over and my brother and I got home around 2:00 and I was officially on spring break. I think I vacuumed and then I took a shower. It had been pretty warm out, but there was a little bit of a cold front coming in, so I dressed in a light pink tank top, my beloved jeggings, and my favorite grey cardigan. I knew it was finally time. So I called up my long-traveled person and told him to come to my house at about 6:30.
<br />
<br />He was right on time.
<br />
<br />I had been sitting in the den in my house and in those last five minutes that spanned from 6:25 to 6:30, I got really nervous. It was as if I had saved any nervous energy I might have had and crammed it all into those five minutes. My mom had music playing in the kitchen, it was my Colbie Caillait cd, or however you spell her name, and I thought holy crap, I cannot listen to music right now. So as I stood to go into the kitchen to turn it off, I vaguely saw a red blazer outside and a person walking towards the front door.
<br />
<br />And I froze.
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<br />And the time it took for me to reach to the doorknob and turn it, it felt like a forever. So I walked outside and he was at the front door, not the door to the den, which was where I was. So I had to walk over to him, and as I turned the corner, I saw him. And he looked like he did in pictures, but still so different. The first thing I thought was just how warm he looked. Like this sweet person full of the warmest things to say and the kindest energy.
<br />
<br />We hugged.
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<br />He had four little yellow daisies in his back pocket and he reached around and got them and placed my hair behind my ear and then put one of the daisies behind it as well. He had on a great dark green flannel shirt, which added to the warmth that he had. He put a daisy behind his ear, too. He said the other one was for my mom and the fourth one was for our new little puppy to have, to chew on even, if she wanted. My house is near a little park, and we both had already discussed being fans of taking walks. So we took one, hand in hand.
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<br />Coincidentally, about maybe three days before he came, my brother announced that he, too had a person and he would be flying to go see her. Well, to be honest, that really didn’t help my situation. But my parents kept on and were good about allowing their kids the freedom to just try these things we were in.
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<br />So back to the walk. During it, we saw my brother with our new puppy, taking her on a walk and talking on his phone. I must have been nervous and let go of my guy’s hand when I saw my brother. Which was a little goofy of me. But they introduced themselves, shook hands, and then my brother kept walking his way, and we kept walking ours. We went back to holding hands as soon as we started walking again.
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<br />The walk was quiet, but there wasn’t any pressure to fill the space with words. I was just listening to him breathe and trying to memorize what it felt like to finally, finally be close.
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<br />Pretty soon we came to a little wooden bench and sat down. The park we were in is right across from the high school I went to, which tripped my bench mate out a little, to see where I went to school. To be in my town. The whole thing was the very definition of trippy.
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<br />I remember I kept sliding my black flats off and on, just at the heel. And saying something about how I was sure my feet had shrunk since purchasing them years ago. My warm friend laughed at my little attempts to say funny things. He did one of those breath out of the nose laughs, just a little huff of a laugh. Which I, of course, liked. I liked everything about him. I really liked his nose and I really liked his hands. I had painted my nails the same color I have on them right now, it’s called midnight plum. I can close my eyes and see exactly what my hand looked like in his.
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<br />He had told me his friends said he smelled like gingersnaps, and I said, “You really do smell like gingersnaps.” He really did smell like gingersnaps.
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<br />We sat there for I don’t even know how long and just talked. He told me about how now it was like we start over, but we knew exactly where we were headed. The whole point of meeting was to see if we really liked each other as much as we did just talking through the computer, through text, sometimes through the phone. We just wanted to see if we liked each other enough to keep it going. And we liked each other. Plain and simple, we liked each other. And we liked each other a lot.
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<br />I accidentally had left my phone on the counter in the kitchen, I must have sat it there when I got up to turn off the seventh cycle of “Bubbly.” My parents had tried to call and, of course, didn’t get an answer but my brother told them we were in the park. About that time, my dad pulls up in his car. I sort of think it was a showy thing, kind of like in country songs when dads talk about cleaning their guns? It was kind of like that, he pulled up fast and sharp, as if to say, hey. Watch yourself. Or something, I dunno. I’m not a dad.
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<br />Anyway, so me and this person I had these feelings for, that I had never felt for anyone, we walked up to the car. By this time, it was dark out. My dad just calmly rolled down the window and said dinner is about ready. Kind of an extreme way of saying it, sure, but kind of funny in retrospect.
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<br />So we walked back home. I made sure we took the long route, I wasn’t trying to waste anytime by not being around this guy. I wanted to be right beside him. When we finally got to the driveway of my house, he was feeling anxious and nervous about walking in and meeting my parents. I told him to not even worry a bit about it. I had all the faith in the world that my parents were going to love this guy. We took a second to check out the back of his Blazer which he had fashioned with mustard colored blankets and a camping stove, for quick tea. He had told me about it in conversation before, and we had nicknamed it “Bunk-in-the-Trunk.” Really, an amazing idea. He popped in an Altoid and then we walked to the door. He took a minute and we looked at each other, and then I opened the door and we went in.
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<br />Formalities were exchanged, I knew he’d be a little gentleman about it, and he was. He was one the whole time he visited. I know I haven’t had loads of experience with dating guys at all, but I don’t think it takes any experience to know that an old-fashioned person, who cares about the importance of meeting parents, who cares about making each little second feel special, who cares about shaking hands, I know that doesn’t come along everyday. But here I was, with one of the few and I was in my house, with my parents, dinner on the stove, and I had one.
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<br />I can’t even remember what anyone said once we sat beside each other on the couch and my parents sat down in chairs in the room, to talk to him. I have no idea what was said, actually. I was too busy just looking at him, looking at the way his mouth shaped words, watching his eyebrows, looking at the different angles of his nose, noticing his eyes looked sleepy from his long drive, looking at his hands, watching his gestures, hearing him. I was studying him.
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<br />At some point, we all ate dinner. At then at another point, it was the end of the night. I walked out with him, back to his Blazer which was parked on the street. We got in and sat for a bit. He turned the car on, since that cold front was lowering body temps. I asked him about the different things in his car. He had a hawk feather slipped in somehow to the roof. He told me his dad gave it to him, and I then I remembered that, in the couch time that I studied him, he and my dad discussed hawks. So that was a neat little coincidence. We held hands again. We sat some more. We said little things to each other, some funny, some sweet.
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<br />I knew he was really sleepy, so it got to be time for him to go to his hotel bed and rest. He came around and opened my door and helped me out. The wind was whipping around and I was pretty cold, especially after being in the warm car just moments before. So we hugged. And we hugged. At some point, I decided to kiss this person, this great, dreamy person. It was just a sweet little moment. We smiled at each other and I tucked my head into his chest and told him I didn’t want him to go. And how special and neat it was when he just looked at me and said, “tomorrow.”
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<br />I nodded.
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<br />I wrapped my sweater up around me and walked back up the driveway and into the house. I don’t think I even fully realized how happy I was. I was so happy, everything had worked out so sweetly. We had met. We liked each other. We were right about knowing we would like each other. And it was done. Now we had crossed that off the list, and everything else was going to be just fine.
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<br />Remember how I told you my brother sprung on us that he was leaving to go be with someone, via plane? Well, that happened. So that next morning, I woke up and went with him and my mom to the airport to see him off on his first plane trip. My mom cried, I cried. We just cried in general.
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<br />Then I came back home and took a shower. I had to keep reminding myself that yes, my person was still here. He was literally here. That day we went to the state park in my town. I packed a blanket, on his suggestion, and he had everything else. He also told me to bring my shuffle. Every time I got in his car, he would open the door for me and then come around and get in the driver’s seat. Then he would take my hand and hold it and kiss the back of it. And we would hold hands while he drove.
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<br />So we headed out to the park and on the way, we stopped at a Walgreen’s. He went in and bought a big bottle of water to make tea and he also bought a Cadbury’s fruit and nut chocolate bar. He told me “Daughters” by my John Clayton Mayer had been playing in the store.
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<br />Of course, with me announcing directions to where we were headed, I got us a little off the path. But then we turned back around and were headed in the right direction. We got to the park and, being from a place full of wonderful parks himself, my hand holding guy was pleased about where we were. We parked in front of the big playground, and The Bunk-in-the-Trunk was facing the lake. We grabbed the blanket I brought, he grabbed his bag and we headed up the hill to where there were benches and some people grilling.
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<br />We laid out the blanket and sat down. He had little speakers for our shuffles, except mine wouldn’t work for some reason. So we listened to his instead, which was fixed on Bon Iver, which I had given him through one of our many online conversations. And Bon Iver, if you’ve ever read this blog before, you’d know I love that music better than anything. So we just laid there, listening to it, talking a little. The music was completely perfect for the perfect little moment. Again, it was a little cold out and I kept trying to get closer, to get some of his body heat, but he was propped up on his elbow, and just looking at me. I remember he told me how elegant I looked to him.
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<br />One of the things that worried both of us the most, before we met, we would talk about being worried what if we didn’t like the way each other looked? He told me I was crazy for ever even worrying that. I thought he was crazy, too. I really liked his face. I thought he looked just exactly as he should.
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<br />Once again, I was memorizing the scene. Which is why now, six or so months later, I can give you almost any detail. The sky was really blue that day and I was looking at the birds up above us, I wondered if they were doing the same thing, only in their version, and looking back at us. It was about that time that he told me he knew he loved me.
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<br />No one had ever told me that before, not in a romantic way, and I didn’t even know what to do besides nod and feel it. I felt loved. I felt adored. I felt perfect.
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<br />I just kept saying over and over in my head, “He loves me. I can’t believe he loves me.”
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<br />After a bit of just laying there and looking up, he asked me if I was cold and I said yes. So we folded our blanket back up and headed back to the Blazer. He got out his camping stove and started the tea while I went to use the bathroom up at the playground. When I came back, he went to the bathroom. My mom called while he was gone and talked for a second. Then he was back and he got in the bunk and then I did, too. We sat there and drank his English breakfast tea and he broke off little pieces of the chocolate and we ate them. It was a good combo.
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<br />We talked about things. Mostly we sat and enjoyed each other’s company and looked out at the lake. We continued listening to music, by this time the alphabet of artists playing on his shuffle had slipped into Bob Marley.
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<br />I had on a black shirt that was sort of a hoodie shirt, but it had a lower cut. My collarbone was showing and some of my shoulders, too. He asked me if I knew I had a heart shaped mark on my left shoulder. I had never noticed it was a heart until he said it. I just thought it was a dot.
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<br />We had a few little sweet kisses in between talking and tea-ing. At some point, two of my high school gym teachers walked by and I think they knew who I was, we sort of said hello through eyes. Kinda. They had a pizza to eat with some kids. After a bit, we headed home.
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<br />He ate dinner at my house again, this time just with my parents and me, since my brother had left for his own trip. We ordered pizza, probably on cue from my gym teachers carrying it about the park earlier that day, and he and I went to pick it up at the mall. When we walked out of my front door to get in the car, he hugged me from behind, like a scoop hug. And it made my shoulders shrug up and my chin go to my left shoulder as I smiled really big.
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<br />Once again, we got in his car, and he took my hand and kissed the back of it. We drove and that song was playing where they say “You didn’t have to do what you did, what you did, but you did. And I thank you…” and he sang along and kissed my hand again at the end of the line. Honestly, I have never felt that totally comfortable in someone else’s presence. I just grinned and held his hand. Sometimes when I would squeeze it a little, he would shift the steering wheel real quick.
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<br />We took the pizza home and ate it, casually on the couch, while he talked once again to my parents. He and my dad talked about music equipment and gushed over whatever kind of keyboards Chris had brought with him. I am just now mentioning his name, because I just now asked him, via text, in real time, if it was okay to use it. He of course said yes.
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<br />After we ate, Chris followed me into the kitchen in search of a little milk. I got the milk out of the fridge and poured him some and he drank it.
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<br />So after dinner and talking, Chris and I headed out in search of ice cream. We went to Kroger, where I had just been a few nights ago buying flowers, and we went to the ice cream aisle. We both agreed on lemon sorbet and he grabbed a carton of it. Then we headed to picnic supplies and bought fancy plastic spoons, the clear crystal looking kind.
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<br />We had talked about watching Sex and the City 2, since Chris was a big fan of the show and hadn’t seen the second movie yet. After we checked out at the self-check line, we saw a display of DVD’s and one of them was SATC2. However, it was stupidly overpriced and we let that dream go.
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<br />We got to the hotel where he was staying and pulled into one of the parking places. He turned off the car and looked at me and said, “Would you like to come in?” and I nodded and smiled and said yes.
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<br />He was staying on the second floor of the hotel, so we took the steps up to where his room was. Once we got to the door, he slipped in his key and let me walk in first. He came in behind me and walked over to each lamp and turned them on. I reveled in looking around and seeing his things. I saw his shirts hanging up, I saw his body wash and mouth wash over on the sink. I saw his keyboard. And then I saw his laptop.
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<br />It was just sitting there. The little box, all lit up, and it was the way we met. I think meeting someone in that way can seem so cold, but when it’s two warm people, it’s the furthest thing from it. It’s fate at work. Fate on a laptop. I’m being completely serious.
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<br />So I sat down on his bed and had my knees pulled up. Chris had gone into the bathroom and changed into a cutoff t-shirt and his sweatpants. Then, he sat down, too and opened the lemon sorbet and turned on the TV in front of the bed. We zeroed in on an old movie. Something kind of Cuban-looking. This one lady in the movie was kind of a ho. But really who’s to say, we had just started watching. We ate out of the little carton, each with our own spoon. It was light and good after the pizza we had for dinner.
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<br />After we were done eating the ice cream, Chris got us each some water to drink. He used the same two mugs he brought for us to have tea. Mine was a white mug that looked like the Guggenheim. So then we were just together there. I was thinking about how he had told me he loved me. I knew we had only been in each other’s physical presence for two days, but I believed it. I never felt like him saying that was rushed or not really examined. He loved who I was, at my core. He knew me. And he loved what he knew.
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<br />We laid there beside each other. I was admiring his cutoff skills, and he said, you know it didn’t come like this. I made it this way. Later on, I asked him if he knew he had a singing chili pepper on his shirt. It was something from a festival of some sort, I think. Anyway, he said yes.
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<br />It was getting late, I didn’t want to leave, naturally. Who doesn’t want to hang out with a new best friend? But Chris said we should go, he didn’t want my parents to worry. He wanted to be respectful. So he drove me home. We sat out in his car for what I believe was close to an hour. Who knows how much gas was just wasted on sitting, although, it certainly wasn’t wasted to us. Finally, I knew it was time for me to head in the house, somewhere around maybe 1:30 or 2:00 am.
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<br />When I got to my room, I remember not wanting to be away from Chris. So, for probably the first time in my life, I didn’t wash my face. I didn’t want to wash him off. I didn’t take off my shirt from that day either, I slept in it. I just brushed my teeth and tried to keep everything else in tact.
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<br />The next day we went to eat sushi with one of my friends. She had just been at an interview at a cupcake place up the street, so she met us there. When I got in his car, we had another little kiss and I told him thanks for coming to meet me.
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<br />We got to the place downtown and had our sushi with my friend. I don’t use chopsticks to eat sushi. I can’t do it. And Chris didn’t mind at all.
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<br />Later, we went to the cupcake place and Chris bought the two of us a red velvet cupcake each, to have later. My friend went home and said nice to meet you, Chris said it back.
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<br />After that, we went to Hobby Lobby. Chris had brought his paints from home and had planned for us to make each other little paintings of just whatever we wanted. So we walked back to the section with canvases and bought two of the tiniest, cutest canvases you’ve ever seen.
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<br />We drove back to his hotel room, which by this point felt like a little nest where we could just hang out and see each other and be ourselves. I had on a dress with tights and a pink sweater and boots, so I took my boots off and sat up on the bed as Chris brought over all his paints and dumped them on the bed and told me to go for it. He laid out on his side and studied his little canvas, and I did the same, as if we were about to create the most prestigious paintings of all time. And to each other, we were.
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<br />Chris started his by sketching something out. I started mine by brushing a light green wash all over the canvas.
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<br />After a bit, Chris got up to have a smoke. I got up to go use the bathroom. While I was in there, I saw his green bathrobe hanging on the back of the door. I held a corner of it and smelled it. It smelled really good. When I got out, I washed my hands at the sink. I walked over to Chris who was smoking out of the open door, the rain pouring outside the awning, and he said “Your dress.” And I said “What?” And he said “Your dress is up.”
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<br />Well, I told you I had on tights, and my dress had got caught in the top of my tights, in the back. So that was funny.
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<br />I said “Ohhh,” and we laughed a little as I fixed it and then I headed back to sit down.
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<br />This is one of the moments I really memorized well. Chris in the doorframe, leaning up against it, smoking a cigarette. Still looking warm, still looking sweet. I just lingered there, looking.
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<br />Then we both were back sitting on the bed, and working on our art projects.
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<br />Eventually, I heard Chris just barely laughing to himself about his. He said it was really cute. I was still trying to get mine to do something, after I layered on some blue. Pretty soon I started using the acrylic paints like oil paints, kind of similar to how I like to paint my barrels for Fun Fest. Mine ended up being a little scene with pink and red flowers on a hill. His ended up being a little man with a tiny cabin hat. He was right, it was really cute.
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<br />The whole time we painted, we were listening to the radio on Chris’ laptop. During the program, one of my favorite singers since I was a little girl came on, Alison Krauss. The show had some funny moments, we both laughed at the little funny jokes and kept painting all the while.
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<br />Time really does fly by when you’re having the best time, and it was time for dinner again. My parents were cooking for us. My dad was going to grill steaks and my mom had just texted me and asked whether or not Chris would want a regular potato or a sweet potato.
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<br />I’m not sure how we ended up standing and hugging, but we did. I guess we had gotten up to leave to go eat dinner. But we stood and hugged for so long. And we both started to cry. Part of my cry was because I knew the trip was getting close to ending, and he would go back to being twelve hours away, instead of a few minutes. So I cried for that. And I cried because I knew what I was feeling. I was genuinely falling in love. I was scared of it, I was happy for it, I didn’t know the feeling until right then.
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<br />And I also kept trying to remember what song was playing on the radio from Chris’ laptop still. I had it my head that someday it might be our song, or something cute like that. All I can remember is that was something about Blue Bells. I was hugging Chris so tight and crying. I don’t usually do things like that. But there I was, just doing what I felt. At one point, I sort of tickled the small of his back, when I heard him crying. He laughed a little and said he was ticklish there. Finally I looked up at him and my mascara had smudged onto his shirt and left a little black mark. He said he didn’t mind. He smiled and wiped my eyes off. He said come on, let’s go eat.
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<br />Chris had offered to bring his keyboard and play it outside while my dad grilled, but it was raining and Chris and I pretty much forgot he had meant to bring it with him anyway. Instead, he played our piano for my parents. I had told him about some of the artwork I did in school, so he said he’d like to see it. While he played different songs that I already knew, because he had sent me recordings of them, I went and grabbed my big watercolor pad and my big drawing pad from high school and two little books I had made from marbled paper and one had a logo I made of my initials.
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<br />I watched my parents’ expressions while Chris played and sang. My dad looked pretty impressed, my mom did, too. I know I was impressed. I would have been if he had just played twinkle, twinkle little star. After he played, he sat down beside me and we flipped through all my art. He told me he liked it and that he thought it was really good. He mentioned using something I had done as neat album art someday. I was happy he liked it.
<br />We didn’t eat dinner until later that night. So we didn’t finish until later that night. I really was starting to feel the pull of his last day coming up and I wanted to go somewhere with him. I had talked to my grandmother on the phone earlier that day and she had said to me, “All I know is, you really should try and spend as much time with him as possible.” She thought he sounded really great.
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<br />My grandparents would have met him, but they both had colds at the time.
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<br />So we left. At this point, it might have been about eleven o’clock or so. We drove to a gas station and Chris went in to pay for the gas. I could see him through the window of the store. I just sat there and watched him brush his hair back with his hand. And I watched him look around at the other people in line. I watched him nod at the clerk as he gave him his change. All I could think was that he was mine. I was so glad he was mine.
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<br />That night, things didn’t go as well as they had been going. Chris and I were in the hotel room. It got to be around three in the morning and my phone was on silent, I never heard it ring. My parents were really upset. They were very worried. They couldn’t get a hold of me or Chris and they thought something bad had happened, even though it didn’t.
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<br />It’s hard for me to tell you these things, dear reader. The whole thing was so hard. My dad came to pick me up, he was mad. But at the door, as I was putting my jacket on, Chris asked if he should come with me, I said no. I told him everything would be fine. We hugged and kissed. He asked me if I was sure it was going to be okay. I said yes. I genuinely thought it was. Then he said “I love you,” and I didn’t have to analyze it, I didn’t edit it, it just came out. I said, “I love you, too.” And I meant it.
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<br />I walked out the door. And down the steps. And into the car with my dad. It was pouring out. He didn’t want to talk to me. He was so angry with me. All he said was that anything could have happened to me. I got home, I was angry at the way things had happened. I was really angry. My mom was sitting, still really worried.
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<br />Chris had texted me to see if I got home alright. I told him I did. Once again, I said everything would be fine.
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<br />Things weren’t fine. I have to be honest, I told you I would be honest, I believe things got completely blown out of proportion. Yes, I understand worried parents. I understand that they did not know where I was. I got that. But I thought I deserved a second chance. I was told to tell Chris to just go on home. I didn’t believe they meant it. Chris paid for another night. He was so worried. I didn’t know what to tell him. Everything had been so sweet, so perfect, and there it was, ending with this loud bang and crash. It was just awful.
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<br />The whole ending felt completely unnecessary. I know the people around me thought it was in my own best interest. Hell, maybe on some points it was. I knew it was going to be hard to say goodbye to him. But I had it in me to keep it going. So I did. I made the decision for myself.
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<br />So about two weeks went by and I went back to Chris. I found him and talked to him. I had broken up with him, but I hadn’t meant it. I was just doing what I thought I should. I was wrong about it. So we worked through it. We talked about every little thing, just like always. We analyzed the scenario, and decided it was what we wanted, to keep it going, to stay together. We believed we could get through it because we were best friends who loved one another.
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<br />Time went on and our bond was still sweet and strong. We were talking everyday and every night, just like always. We played scrabble on Facebook every Thursday night. We were back to exchanging The Book, which was a little beautiful thing that Chris came up with. We have The Book which is where we drew things and wrote things on the empty pages and sent it back and forth between us. Chris sent it back to me for my birthday, along with a book about different hikes in his home state.
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<br />So sure, time went on, but it started to become clear that long distance can’t just be about the distance and sweet things in the mail. There has to be time to really be together. So we were talking about a summer trip. Once again, it was my end that held us back. Everyday got to be so hard, such an impossible feeling of struggle. I realized that my job couldn’t allow me to go away, not for as long as we had talked about. And my parents were not at all keen on the idea of me going away on a trip. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know who to talk to.
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<br />I wanted to talk to someone who already knew the whole situation. Chris had given me his mom’s number. I was scared to call for a little while. I was afraid. I suppose because everything else was so difficult, I was afraid this would be, too. But it wasn’t. I talked to her for almost an hour. We talked about the trip, she said she would love to meet me. I felt confident again that we could get through this. I felt so sure my parents were going to say okay, go for it. Go see about it. Go find out.
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<br />But they never did.
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<br />I know what you’re thinking, if you really believed in this, you should have just gone. You should have just done it for yourself. And I know. I believe that, too. I regret not going. I regret it on pretty much a daily, almost hourly basis.
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<br />Because now, we aren’t together anymore. I broke up with Chris in early June. I felt like I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t have my first love be somewhere else. Which was silly, because, it’s too late now. My first love was far away. I know now that it was also just the breaking down by everything around me. Every way I went, roadblock. Problem. Another no. Literally every day. I lost my fight for it. I’m so worried about regretting it.
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<br />And I hurt someone. Hurting someone who did nothing wrong is a really stupid thing. It makes you feel awful. It makes you feel even more awful when they’re still nothing but understanding and helpful and supportive. You feel like a big villain who crushed something that did not deserve it. I felt like I broke his heart, and I felt like I was breaking my own heart.
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<br />But here I am. That’s the whole thing, for the most part. I don’t know what to do some days. I do know I have a lovely and sweet little dog named Daphne who makes me feel better, even when she steals my shark slippers. She is currently running through the house with a new rawhide and hitting every door frame on her way out. Sometimes I just sit with her and talk to her, when no one’s around.
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<br /></span>
<br />
<br /><p><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">And I know I have Chris as someone I can talk to. I know he's there for me, despite everything.</span></p><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">But like I said, here I am. With all of this to carry. All of this to think about every day.
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<br />It’s funny to see it all typed out. It makes me cry. I guess it isn’t really funny, but here it is. It’s all here. It ended because of excuses. I don’t know if it will come back around. I would be so happy if it did.
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<br />One of my favorite movies is <em>Sleepless in Seattle</em> and I feel a lot of my own situation in that movie. It was on TV last night and I thought, gees. What else. But I feel the bizarre chance of it all, the magic of it all, the cosmic notions that someone, somewhere, somehow, is making this happen. That even the craziest of chances can be the most important. And as much as I love the magic and chance of it all, I know we all have to take what we want, we have to go get it. It’s scary as hell sometimes. </span>
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<br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Also, speaking of media, when I was babysitting Daphne the other night, I turned on that Asian version of Dora on Nick Jr, and then the show got weird. Nothing was on. I flipped up a few more channels and found my past friend of Disney. I decided to watch a show called "Good Luck, Charlie," I think. Anyhow, in the episode, the older son's girlfriend has to move to New York because of her dad's job. So she doesn't know how to tell the guy, so she records it on a boombox and tells him, in a letter she left, to press play. And she goes through the whole thing. Anyway, the boyfriend ends up leaving and going to New York to live with her and her family. His dad goes after him and finds him playing guitar in a subway. So the boy tells him that he loves the girl. He can't be without her. And he says, if you love something set it free. If it doesn't come back, if you can't get it back, it wasn't meant to be. But if it does, it's yours forever.</span>
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<br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">So. I know that might sound kinda silly, but it meant something to me. And to hear it right then, it really meant something.
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<br />Chris and I have talked on the phone twice now since I ended it. The first time, all I could really do was sit and cry. Cue sad faces. The next time, I still pretty much sat and cried. What I’m afraid of the most is something that gets talked about in that little movie I just mentioned, the never knowing part. That scares me so bad, it keeps me up at night. If you couldn’t tell by all I just told you, in which case you’re an idiot, but either way, he’s a great guy. I’m afraid he’s going to get gone. And don’t you dare go looking for him, dear reader. Even though we aren’t together, I dunno. I still feel like we’re connected.
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<br />Sometimes I get real sad and just look at pictures on Facebook of him. I miss everything. Everyday. And sometimes, I don’t know how I’m going to get over it. I don’t really want to get over it. I'm afraid of that moment we get over it, and then he gets gone forever.
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<br />Look, I know it was three days. I know it was months of online talking. I also know what I felt, what I still feel. I know I’m a big girl who knows what she knows. And I know I have a big life ahead of me. I know people see that in me, even if it’s hard to see it myself sometimes. The first time I talked to Chris after we broke up, he told me something that made me cry. He said he knew I was great, but as far as my dad goes, he said, “he thinks you’re absolutely golden.” So, even though I get pissed off as hell at my own situation, I know I have it in me to be strong. To get through this. I know people see it.
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<br />I’m really glad I typed all of this out. It hurt. But I needed you to hear it. I needed everyone, anyone to be able to read it. I would never want to hide something so sweet and important to my life. And something that has left such a mark. I have a lot of love inside of me, I know that. So sure, I didn’t like being far away from the person I wanted to be with, but I’ve got it in me to bring it back, when it’s time, if it’s time. No one can stop me. We have to get what we want. But first, we have to do things for ourselves.
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<br />I’m about to start my last year of school. I had to have a background check to be able to get further on the path of becoming a teacher, I’m scared about missing all of these important dates of turning things in, getting stuff done. I have a big ass load of classes to take, pardon my language, but I really do. I have to start studying German again. I have realized things about people around me that I did not ever think I would have to. It’s easy as hell to get burned out, but I see the light at the end of the tunnel. And it can’t be a person or anything other than myself, just being happy. And whatever that includes, then that’s what’ll include. We’ve got our own little roads and I believe, one hundred and ten percent, that these things happen for a reason. I believe each person enters our life for a reason. Sometimes we get back to them, sometimes we don’t. Either way, they’re there.
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<br />Sometimes I reflect on missed opportunities, in a romantic sense, and I have some regrets. I even saw some specific people in the last two weeks who I believe were put back into my path to remind me of what I missed out on the last time I didn’t go for something. Whether or not that’s the case, I don’t care. I believe it is. That’s all that matters.
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<br />I hope if you’re feeling hopeless like I have been the past bit, I hope you’ll do something and not just bottle it up, like I’ve gotten into the nasty little habit of. I dunno what it is. Talk to a friend, cry to someone, type twelve pages of memories that made you cry your eyes out and then make everyone read it. Somethin.
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<br />Sometimes I’m pretty sure I’m having a quarter-life crisis, in the words of my JCM. Or at least two dimes and a penny of one. But I’m trying. I’m trying to figure out what I want. Then comes the going out and getting it. Even if it’s just a little thing. Starting a little project. Literally, just something. We can’t sit around being scared and sad.
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<br />I have to do lots of things for myself. I have all the time in the world, but at the same time, life is so stupidly short. If you think about it too much, you’ll near on hyperventilation. Which is never good, but a reality check, nonetheless. I believe there’s always going to be stupid roadblocks and I believe that bad things happen to good people. But nothing is ever just bad. I mean, if that’s the case, don’t tell me. Because that’s sad as hell. Again, language I know. But I’m all fired up. You know I like to take it to that level from time to time.
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<br />I want to write. I want to sit down with a big stack of student essays and a giant pack of red pens. I said red. The blood of a thousand writing dreams. And I want to come up with creative ways to help all students feel included and to feel important. Not feeling important sucks. It sucks, people.
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<br />I want to go out and see things. I have a big list. I want to take time out for myself, to really make sure I’ve got the right direction. I want to challenge myself. I want to make myself uncomfortable. I want to test my own boundaries and push them.
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<br />It’s high time we get mad and we do somethin.
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<br />My first tiny baby step was writing this. I have put it all out here for you. I didn’t edit it. I just said it. So if words are missing, I can’t care about it. I just had to let it flow. And if you’ve made it to the end of this post, good lord.
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<br />Like I said, if this person ends up being my person in the long-run, how special would that be. But I can’t base my life on the word “if.” I know there’s a big plan, I feel it, I know it. But a good friend told me I can’t sit around and wait for the magic to come to me. Sometimes you have to go balls to the wall.
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<br />If absolutely nothing else, my first experience with loving someone was perfect to me and for me. Because the love part was never anything less than it should have been. It was perfect. It suited me, it suited us. We might not be in love anymore, because of timing, because of distance, because of dumb interference, whatever. But we still love each other. You don’t just stop loving a best friend because stuff happens. And so now I have this amazing friend because of it. And I also have The Book, and pictures we've sent to each other, and songs we've sent to each other, and saved conversations, and over 4,000 text messages, and the painting he did, and my little friendship ring, and a bottle of sandalwood oil that he gave me, that smells just like him, and I have his voice to listen to. And it's so hard. It’s hard to be only friends. It’s hard when he says he’s just going to hang out with someone, it hurts like hell. But it’s going to be okay. I’m going to make sure it is.
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<br />Yours in doing,
<br />katie beth
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<br /></span>katie bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002442138045459234noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1216182109447336970.post-55478531132890092462011-05-20T17:08:00.006-04:002011-05-20T17:34:59.768-04:00i didn't win.It's been a good little while since I entered the sixth round in NPR's Three Minute Fiction contest. The idea was that the story must fit into a three minute time frame, must include a joke, and must include someone crying. Here's what: I didn't win. It's taken me this long to get over it. Anyway, here's what I wrote. Join me in pouting.<br /><br /><br /><em>Girl in the Turned-Down Bed.<br /><br />At a Presbyterian Church, on a sunny church Sunday morning, the kind that warms like the sweetest cinnamon, a tiny baby was baptized. Her white linen dress felt softly taunt to the touch as she was moved from father to pastor and back to mother. A member of something much bigger than herself, I calmly wondered why in the world such a thing was done at such a young age. There’s no way this tiny baby could understand the magnitude of that lukewarm water as it silently dripped down the back of her soft little neck. Hell, I didn’t even understand it. Suddenly, I realized we were all snapping our heads back up from the prayer and I didn’t question it anymore. That afternoon, the little girl was placed in her new pink satin crib and slept lazily in a turned-down bed as her family ate finger-foods down below her in the living room.<br /><br />Some twenty-three years later, that same little girl put on a white dress and swished-swished down the aisle at a Presbyterian Church to her love. She told me later that she felt her feet in heeled-shoes glide as if she was being sweetly waltzed by something so beautiful, something so filling. At the reception that night, I was the one who gently shut the car door closed and stood in the road, watching them drive off until all I saw was a tiny black speck against the orange glow of the street lamps. And then they were gone. Someone tapped me back to reality and jokingly said, “Hey, it’s not your job to worry about her anymore. Come have a drink.” I thought later that night how magical of a moment it will be when the morning sun finds the two together, now married as a mister and a misses. I thought about how proud the mister will be when he looks over and sees that girl in a turned-down bed.<br /><br />Seven years, three days, and one week later, the conversations that lofted about the high arches and pews of an afternoon at a Presbyterian Church were full of remembrance. The walls of the sanctuary were now tinged with gloom as the line of people stretched out into the foyer and the soft scent of floral arrangements breathed about the room They were all there to see a girl in a turned-down bed. She laid there, soft hands resting on a white sundress, with pink satin all around her. The only thing people could seem to muster was that at least, at least, at least, she left behind a precious baby daughter of her own that looked exactly like her mother. The only thing I could seem to muster was to cry.<br /><br />“How incredible are the lives we humans lead,” I thought it to myself as I placed my granddaughter to sleep in her little pink crib and thought about my own daughter somewhere sleeping beneath the grass in a turned-down bed.<br /></em><em></em><br /><br /><br /><div align="left">So that's what I wrote and that's what ultimately lost. It's okay, though. I still really like NPR, no grudges will be held. </div><br /><br /><br /><div align="left">Thanks to C. Charles Bley for telling me about this really neat contest and thanks to anyone who took the time to read. </div><br /><br /><div align="left"><a href="http://www.uzicafe.com/2011/03/my-submission-to-nprs-three-minute.html">http://www.uzicafe.com/2011/03/my-submission-to-nprs-three-minute.html</a></div><br /><div align="left"><a href="http://www.npr.org/series/105660765/three-minute-fiction">http://www.npr.org/series/105660765/three-minute-fiction</a></div><br /><br /><div align="left">Yours,</div><br /><div align="left">katie beth</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8sKhnt5eluj-awiIfdHbhMmJILNSMmkGhIbsTJ7gn6Ubuh3oMYazmacbgJq6CS5JHxfBqjnwYKY9FXhSnU2it9QXMm-2bKeo6J-Jhfv-R0jbXho-C3Ke2bcqBSZSZXPMAkmv8zib-asI/s1600/lovely.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 169px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 242px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5608912138609222338" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8sKhnt5eluj-awiIfdHbhMmJILNSMmkGhIbsTJ7gn6Ubuh3oMYazmacbgJq6CS5JHxfBqjnwYKY9FXhSnU2it9QXMm-2bKeo6J-Jhfv-R0jbXho-C3Ke2bcqBSZSZXPMAkmv8zib-asI/s320/lovely.jpg" /></a>katie bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002442138045459234noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1216182109447336970.post-44464836852068824682011-03-12T22:20:00.003-05:002011-07-29T17:08:37.091-04:00i still have a blog.<span class="Apple-style-span">Does anyone even read this blog anymore? I often wonder it, question it, and then decide it doesn't really matter. But also, to be fair, I haven’t written anything on here in like, I dunno forever. Anyway, though, I have a question for you, if you write stuff like I do: Do you ever write something and whoever the subject was, it seems like then those words belong to that person? I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. And it’s certainly how I felt about lots of the past posts on here. Somehow, I felt old posts were written with the intent of impressing someone who I didn’t need to impress.<br /><br />I’ve lately discovered that I don’t have to do that all the time. Sometimes, that’s pretty consuming. We spend a lot of time searching for people to appreciate who we are. There’s nothing wrong with that, either. It’s kind of nice, I suppose.<br /><br />But sometimes people come along who just like each other, just as they are. No matter what, that’s one of the nicest things around.<br /><br />On that topic, I wrote a few things that have been replaying in my head for awhile now, from some recent stuff that I’ll spare you the details of. And, I felt almost funny putting them on here, because these belong to a different person than before. Up until now, I still felt like the poems I shared with you before made my blog belong to someone else. And somehow, that’s true of me, too. These certainly belong to me just as much as the person I write them for, and I’m different, too.<br /><br />I just read that back and it made like, four percent sense. So, sorry for that.<br /><br />But anyway.<br /><br />It’s nice to write things again.<br /><br />::<br /><br />Lately, certain colors have filled me up.<br />Flashing orange of talk<br />Blinking green of talk<br />Flashing blue of talk<br /><br />All things decided upon by inventors of things we use to communicate.<br /><br />I wonder if they ever thought about that? I guess they did. I wonder if they thought about people connecting through the colors they picked.<br /><br />Do you think they did?<br />I kind of don’t.<br /><br />::<br />Infatuation<br />Infactuation<br />Infalluation<br /><br />Call it anything<br />Call it yours<br />Call it mine<br />Call it ours.<br /><br />::<br /><br />Sometimes the world hates closing its eyes<br />Sometimes it fears what it’ll see when it does that.<br /><br />It’s scared of its saltoceans coming up and drowning the knots of the wood on a dock<br />It’s scared of its land having too many feet walking on new concrete and nowhere for the trees<br />It’s scared of its sun blistering the squishy skinned shoulder-freckles of a little red-haired girl<br />It’s scared of its moon.<br />Sometimes the world’s people hate closing their eyes<br />Sometimes they fear what they’ll see when they do that.<br /><br />They’re scared of their children growing up and they forget that doesn’t mean they won’t still be around<br />They’re scared of their parents not trusting them to take and beautifully use what they’ve taught them<br />They’re scared of the present and what future could come from it and how it will change everything<br />They’re scared of the past.<br /><br />Sometimes you hate closing your eyes<br />Sometimes you fear what you’ll see when you do that.<br /><br />You’re scared of keeping your love around<br />You’re scared of letting your love go<br />You’re scared of your brain telling you the logic of keeping away from her<br />You’re scared of your heart.<br />Sometimes I hate closing my eyes<br />Sometimes I fear what I’ll see when I do that.<br /><br />I’m scared of my mind flashing through the snapshots I took, a silhouette of him in a rainy doorway<br />I’m scared of my ears listening to the notes and melodies that were given to me<br />I’m scared of losing you<br />I’m scared of a lot.<br /><br />But did you know that Time isn’t scared of anything?<br />It might sound silly, but Time has no rush<br />It has nowhere else to be, but where it’s at.<br />Time isn’t scared of everyone trusting it.<br /><br />Time isn’t scared of anything.<br /><br />::<br /><br />I think it might be nice to have a little candle around to burn ---<br /><br />One that smells like tea-d spearmint and peppery tobacco<br />One that smells like kneading cardamom into playdoh<br />One that smells like cabins and chocolate<br />One that smells like tiny wooden ABC tiles<br />One that smells like ochre blankets<br />One that smells like barely rain dusted grass<br />One that smells like little yellow daisies<br />One that smells like pretending acrylic paint is oil paint<br />One that smells like lemony icy stuff<br />One that smells like watching an old movie in a hotel room<br />One that smells like old books resting in leather chairs<br />One that smells like the thick tube wall of a lighthouse<br />One that smells like being happy.<br /><br />::<br /><br />I like the electrical sounds you make<br />With the scratching of things that go round and round<br />And the beats of drums peppering underneath.<br />Then I like to think about you making them and picking each one out with a left and right ear and then a thumb keeping rhythm on a steering wheel.<br /><br />I like the way the sounds opposite who you are<br />Their mechanical taps like aluminum foil around the last piece of a warm spice cake.<br />And if they are the foil and you are the cake,<br />Then I’m the one wrapping it up.<br /><br />Putting it away for later, but slowly closing and slowly opening the fridge over and over to see whether or not the light stays on.<br /><br />I like the font Perpetua<br />If you add an L to it, do you know what it means?<br />It means continuing or lasting forever.<br /><br />::<br /><br />That’s all for now. Thanks for reading.<br /><br />One more thought: bad things happen to good people, but they don’t forever. I’m sure of it.<br /><br />Yours again,<br />katie beth</span><br /><br /><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><br /><br /><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 137px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583398854861834098" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEPvZlS8sQR_sWk_dG6Hp9WGhHDrFQEtCZq2Hr6pxpJuH-_KB3gJYtiQ0M-NcgnWk2v4Wi3Qzg9glI0QxBBFZO3q69qYBUlQvpNtC8gx7E_PoPs3K9GxxVH-IOYULSBiqYBky9-KFwEb4/s200/nighttimevision.jpg" /></span></div><br /><br /><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><br /><br /><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><br /><br /><div></div>katie bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002442138045459234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1216182109447336970.post-27194545341176603372010-11-17T15:09:00.004-05:002011-05-17T23:02:12.299-04:00from probe to purpose.<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">Good friends of the blog: how’s it going? I’m not going to act like we haven’t spoken in months. I’m not going to catch you up on stuff. Instead, I am going to post something I meant to post a little while back. I rediscovered it the other day, swapped around a few words, remembered some stuff I wanted to forget, changed a few endings, got a little nostalgic, got a little mad, got a little sad and posted it.<br /><br />I hope all has been going well for you and I hope you know that I have missed you and your awesome way of reading the blog.<br /><br />I hope you like reading it, I mean, I know the other stuff that I write is probably more fun, but I don’t want you thinking that I’ve only got one dimension. So, I keep-on keeping-on. Here’s some more seemingly futile writings from me, katie beth byerley. Now read on and get pleasantly enlightened, confused, whatever. And know that I’ve missed you.<br /><br />Anyhow, here goes:<br /><br />::</span></span></span></span></span> </span><br /></span><br /><div><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">probe.<br /><br />Oh, verses with iambic pentameter…<br />Oh, poems with images of things…<br /><br />But the things are images.<br />And, if that’s the case, the images are things.<br /><br />And what if that one really did mean “wheelbarrow?”<br /><br />Really, I think we’re just beating-a-dead-horse.<br />Those people might have, in fact, said what they meant and meant what they said.<br /><br />To the similes,<br />To the metaphors,<br />To the imagery:<br /><br />I bid you a line of brightly-colored ink & little plastic tabs stuck-all-at-the-edges-of-my-pages…<br /><br />And I offer up the 3-D boxes I draw over-and-over-and-over, just to get away for a second…<br /><br />And I’ll hand you my sanity in replace of your veracity.<br /><br />[maybe they didn’t want us to know what they really meant]<br /><br />Well, I no longer want to bear your delegation.<br />I’ll just pass it, and the ink, and the tabs, and the boxes, and the sanity onto the next, the next, the next, and the next.<br /><br />And I’ll tell them, “good luck,” but I won’t mean it.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><br /><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /><div><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">::<br /><br />S&H well-wishers:<br /><br />I hold onto certain friendships and I hold on tight,<br /><br />But it’s not because I like you, because I don’t,<br />And it’s not because we have anything in common, we never really did,<br />And it’s not because we’ll ever see each other again, because we won’t,<br />And it’s not because I think you’re funny, cause you’re not,<br />And it’s not because you think I’m funny, you probably find me to be completely different from anything you like and know --<br /><br />[in which case, I thank you]<br /><br />And it’s not because we haven’t ever fought, although, we never did,<br />And it’s not because I really miss you, because I don’t,<br />And it’s not because I wonder how you’re doing, because I really don’t care,<br />And it’s not because I’m proud of you for joining some False-Greek-Sisterhood, because you have to feel included, and you have to feel accepted with happy smiles and plastic cups as your little veil,<br />And it’s not because we’re waiting to follow-through with all those plans we made:<br /><br />No, I certainly don’t hold on for any of those reasons.<br />I’m holding on for the nostalgia,<br /><br />Because we used to be friends.<br />We used to be and I don’t want to get mixed up in your ridiculousness because I’m afraid,<br />But I’m not afraid of your lifestyle and I sure as hell don’t envy you with your silly-parties-stupid-ideas-false-believings-head-in-your-ass-ways-of-thinking,<br /><br />No, I just hold on because I don’t want to taint my memories of who I used to be,<br />Because I was always some version of who I am now, only getting better.<br />I guess I thought by now, you would have caught up, and I guess I thought you’d be a lot smarter. But, turns out, you’re still an idiot.<br /><br />But I’m not going to let go. Because I need my memories, and I’m afraid that if I saw you tomorrow, we’d mess-them-all-up, and we’d go through the motions of a conversation and all-the-while, we’d be saying nothing. And that’s all we’d be able to remember.<br />I guess it’s pretty selfish of me.<br /><br />::<br /><br />I am, in every respect, loyally dedicated to the pursuit of a pragmatically pensive euphoria.<br /><br />…maybe it was just a nice thought?<br />But I really thought it.<br /><br />I mean, I really did.<br /><br />But I don’t feel silly,<br />Or ridiculous,<br />Or like I was living-a-falsity.<br /><br />No, I just wish it was more than just a nice thought,<br />More than just some idea.</span></div><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br /><div><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I guess I’ll see you around. Never mind about what I just said.<br /><br />::<br /><br />to the histories of the arts and the arts of the histories:<br /><br />How we try-and-try-and-try to understand what you meant.<br />And how we analyze, oh, how we analyze:<br />your gods, your loves, your lives, your needs, your wants, your jobs, your homes, your children, your truths, your colors, your dress, your minds, your thoughts, your passions, your ardors, your desires…<br /><br />But we can’t know. At least, not really.<br /><br />And I wonder what you would think of us, Arts and Artists of the Past.<br />I wonder what you would think if the time was reversed<br />And my present was your past, and you were living now and unearthing all that my world had done:<br /><br />I wonder what you’d say if you unearthed our “Art.”<br />And you saw our Madame Tussaud’s bizarre and eerie completions of waxed-out-washed-up celebrities, and you pulled them up out of the ground, and their glittery eyes were dulled and their fingers were broken, and their wax had somehow made it through the years and didn’t melt, although, I wish it would have.<br /><br />And you tried to figure out why we had done it. And you scratched your heads.<br />Maybe you’d think we worshipped them as our gods and goddesses.<br />Perhaps some of us did, but just know that most of us didn’t.<br /><br />Most of us were just as confused as you all were.<br />And maybe, as your hands sculpted the marble dips and curves into your gods and goddesses,<br />You felt like a jerk for questioning it all.<br /><br />But you kept-on. I think that’s what I admire most about you, Arts and Artists of the Past.<br /><br />:: </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></div></span></span><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">You will, most likely, spend another second, minute, hour, day, week, month, year…<br /><br />Doing nothing. Nothing but worrying about yourself,<br />And your purple glitter for your eyelids,<br />And your hot pink polish for your hands,<br /><br />And you’ll worry about where to go drink-and-dance,<br />And you’ll complain that your boy has broken-your-heart,<br /><br />But there wasn’t one to break.<br />Well, there is one, but it already belongs to you and you alone.<br /><br />It’s not that everyone loves you, it’s just that you only love yourself.<br />And I’m tired of having to hear about it.<br /><br />I don’t care.<br /><br />:: </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I sat outside a dollar-budget store<br />in the parking lot.<br />And the car parked beside me had a woman, her children, and her cigarette<br />in the parking lot.<br /><br />And she sucked on the smoke, and she drew it out and blew it back up into the universe.<br />And her son sat beside her in the front, fumbling with his seat-belt, trying to keep safe.<br />And her teen-angst daughter sat in the back, sinking her teeth into a candy bar.<br /><br />The mother had on so much make-up, and her lavender-dewed eyelids looked bright and washed out against the fake orange of her skin.<br />Like the dressing on a corpse, she was trying to look alive.<br /><br />And as she pulled out of the parking lot and splashed through the rainbow puddle of an oil spill, she looked right at me and I can’t understand why she hesitated.<br /><br />I guess it was because I was looking at her, and her children, and her cigarette.<br />And I saw right through it all. I saw her<br />in some parking lot.<br /><br />::<br /><br />Do you have anything else that you’d like to say?<br />I wondered it to myself as the girl beside me kept her notebook closed and her pen down.<br />She was not taking notes and she was doing it as a tiny-baby protest against the teacher in front of us:<br /><br />The girl sat there, arms folded, breath huffing every-so-often-to-get-her-point-across,<br />And I knew it was because that Philosophy teacher told us she was nonreligious, ironically enough.<br />And the girl wasn’t.<br />And she argued,<br />And she argued loud,<br />Over-and-over-and-over,<br /><br />Of course, she was trying to convince herself and no one else in that room.<br /><br />And I felt sorry for her.<br />Because she was missing the point:<br /><br />If you wear gloves for-forever, you start to forget what your hands looked like.<br /><br />::<br /><br />It was pretty magical-enchanted-just-in-time,<br />The way I met the metaphysical realm of it all<br /><br />The wonderful-beautiful-possible-here-for-you<br />World of the Hyperlinks<br /><br />Leads me to discover things who are still waiting to be discovered.<br /><br />::<br /><br />Truth, you sit there in the traveling cart of the Circus,<br />And we can pay-our-tokens-eat-our-peanuts<br />And watch…<br /><br />But we aren’t to touch,<br />The bars keep you inside,<br />But we can see just-enough.<br /><br />Just-enough to keep us coming back-and-back-and-back<br />And paying-more-tokens, for we can’t think of anything better for which to spend them,<br />And we do it all<br />Just to watch some show.<br /><br />::<br /><br />Did you both forget?<br />Did you forget that it was me who brought you together?<br /><br />You must have.<br />Surely, that’s the reason,<br /><br />Because I have forgotten the both of you,<br />At least for the moment.<br /><br />And I’ll enjoy every second of that moment,<br />Because I hate to taint my brains with your memories of Skies Calling and Quitting in the Hills’ Laughing.<br /><br />::<br /><br />I hate learning new things about you,<br />Because I keep waiting to learn something that will make me stop wanting to learn,<br />But it hasn’t happened.<br /><br />And it scares me because I know I’d go-back-on-the-things-I-believe,<br />If it meant I could keep on learning about you and who you were, are, and will be.<br /><br />I hate reading what you have to say.<br />Because I keep waiting to read something that will make me hate you,<br />And what a joke that is.<br />Nothing could make that happen.<br /><br />And I hate hearing what comes out of your mouth.<br />It rattles me, but in the best-sort-of-way.<br /><br />I know I don’t know you, but I feel like I do.<br />I feel like it’s the shadows,<br />The forms,<br />The things I’ve seen in a past life,<br />And I just keep on getting reminded.<br /><br />When I said I hated learning,<br />I lied.<br />When I said I hated reading,<br />I lied again.<br />And when I said I hated hearing what comes out of your mouth,<br />I guess I lied a third time.<br /><br />And I hate lying.<br />So I’m going to keep-on learning and I’m going to keep-on reading and I’m going to keep-on hearing, at least I hope,<br />Because the forms won’t fail me,<br /><br />But then they did.<br /><br />I hope you like her very much and I hope I never have to hear about any of it.<br /><br />::<br /><br />I hope you know that you are things:<br /><br />You are not defined by-that-one-time<br />You are not defined by-that-school-you’re-at<br />You are not defined by-that-shirt-on-your-back<br />You are not defined by-that-one-story<br />You are not defined by-that-job-you-have<br />And you are certainly not defined by-that-job-you-had.<br /><br />No, no.<br />You are defined by the seeking of the definition.<br /><br />And you might get it tomorrow, but you might never get it at all, but<br />Just know that it’s within. You just have to go seeking it.<br /><br />Cause that’s really all we do,<br />We search for something to awake our souls,<br /><br />But we forget that it starts within ourselves;<br />And not books.<br /><br />We are given these bodies,<br />And this is where we will live<br />And this is where we will die.<br /><br />It’s comforting, really. At least we know we have that one constant.<br /><br />Death is not what we fear,<br />We fear Death without a purpose.<br /><br />See to it that you have Purpose,<br />And I’ll be right there with you,<br />Searching and seeking for the same.<br /><br />::<br /><br />I know you’re busy.<br />But I don’t know if you’re too busy.<br />I mean, you make time for things you really want to do,<br />And it’s okay that my mail isn’t on that list.<br /><br />It doesn’t hurt my feelings.<br />Well, maybe a little,<br />But it really hurts my feelings to know that<br />You’re too busy doing things,<br />Trying to make it look like you’re doing something important.<br />We both know you’re not.<br /><br />I had hoped for more out of you.<br /><br />You look real dumb in that one picture.<br /><br />::<br /><br />Well, I think that was worth coming back for. I mean, these have been saved on my laptop for a little while, and I thought that I wasn’t going to post them, but then I thought, “yes I am.” And so, I did, after a few swipes and swaps. I hope it wasn’t time wasted.<br /><br />That was kind of a long little post. Ah, who cares. I didn’t tell you that you had to read it, anyhow.<br /><br />Did you like it? You know I hope you did, cause I really care about your feelings. Really. They’re super-important to me and all that I am.<br /><br />Welcome back to the blog.<br />I missed you like the deserts miss the rains. Yes. I just said that. </span></span></div><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br /><div><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Yours with one of those knowing nods-and-a-smirk to a person that you haven’t seen in a while,<br />katie beth</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"> </span><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1avcmDVB5k8eTSqi1ZNanr_TB8q1Z_5K8l-vwd7ZI74i0eayGKf5Y4rrczxpegWctIKpMtWPBSKoE_evI1xMEoYrKZwLBe_RziJ-qIlg2LGIOBHd8Kku4p8UwFL5dscLtD1uzVK7J70Y/s1600/orpheus-and-eurydice1.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 166px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540611833810798770" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1avcmDVB5k8eTSqi1ZNanr_TB8q1Z_5K8l-vwd7ZI74i0eayGKf5Y4rrczxpegWctIKpMtWPBSKoE_evI1xMEoYrKZwLBe_RziJ-qIlg2LGIOBHd8Kku4p8UwFL5dscLtD1uzVK7J70Y/s200/orpheus-and-eurydice1.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><br /><div><br /></div><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><br /><div><br /></div><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><br /><div><br /></div><br /><div></div></div>katie bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002442138045459234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1216182109447336970.post-11655268574770599782010-08-20T21:17:00.004-04:002011-05-17T23:05:34.896-04:00daytrippin' on daytrotter.<span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">What is up, dudes and dudettes? I have something really important to tell you about: </span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">DAYTROTTER.COM</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">.<br /><br />I have been meaning to bring daytrotter.com to the blog. I don’t know why I would have ever forgotten. I think it’s probably because I fill up so much of my day with Daytrotter, that, on some mental level, I thought I had already done it. Really.<br /><br />And so, that’s what we’re gonna talk today. </span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">DAYTROTTER.COM</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><br />Do it.<br /><br />Anyhow, I know that you and me both are always searching for great music. And if you gots the poison, I gots the remedy. Okay, so Jason Mraz isn’t a featured artist on Daytrotter, but that’s okay. We already know him.<br /><br />At any rate, let me give you a quick tutorial on DT.<br /><br />So, the whole premise is that sort of thing that you toss and turn over at night in your bed because you didn’t think of it first. How cool do these people have to be that they decided to use The Horseshack in Rock Island, Illinois as a place where righteous bands come to record songs that you and me can download FO FREE [for the most part] and listen to whenever we feel like it? I’ll tell you how cool you’d have to be: you would have to be so cool that there is no word available for which to describe you. Ergo, the good people over at Team Daytrotter are just so ______.<br /><br />Also, here’s what </span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Daytrotter.com </span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">has to say about their </span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/sc/about.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">studio</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">. And I quote:<br /><br />“About the studio: The Horseshack, Rock Island, Illinois:<br /><br />Daytrotter Sessions are engineered by Mike Gentry, Patrick Stolley, Brad Kopplin, Brett Allen or Nick Krill.<br /><br />The Daytrotter recordings are made with minimal mic’ing, through discrete preamps and with some limiting to the mixing console, where they are printed to 1/4” analog tape running at 15 inches per second (usually BASF 468). The analog master is later transferred to a computer and converted to MP3.<br /><br />There is no set formula or pattern to the recordings, no specific mic setup, etc. They are all live, no overdubs, straight to tape. What you hear is what happened in the room that day.”<br /><br />Isn’t that just the coolest thing ever? Really. Let’s be honest with each other. That’s the coolest thing ever.<br /><br />Anyway, the thing is, you create a quick little account [so you can comment and what not] and then you download. It is as simple as that. A new folder is created, you drop those sweet files into your itunes library, and you can thank me later. Plus, while you’re waiting [and it’s not a long wait] for those songs to download, there is always a wonderful write-up about the tunes you’re about to bump. PLUS AGAIN those drawings of the bands are, quite possibly, the coolest things I have ever seen. Genuinely.<br /><br />Also. </span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/sc/daytrotter-iphone-app.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">There’s an app for that. </span></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">So, being a true fan of DT, I thought I’d tell you about my top 7 sessions that you too! can download FO FREE. Has that settled in yet? I said FO FREE. Check it.<br /><br />7. </span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/sara-watkins-concert/20031099-3738281.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Sara Watkins</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><br />Alright, kids. As good people of the musical realms, we know about that great trio we used to call Nickel Creek. And, we all remember our good friend from that trio, Miss Sara Watkins. Guess what?! She is totally doing a solo stint. And, it’s quite lovely.<br /><br />6. </span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/josh-ritter-concert/20030754-19717.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Josh Ritter</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><br />Okay- quick: what five letters spell apocalypse? WWIII. I think that explains it.<br /><br />5. </span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/fleet-foxes-concert/20030249-3737440.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Fleet Foxes</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><br />Really, all I should have to say is Fleet Foxes. That alone should be enough for you to go ahead and download it. And that’s all I’m gonna say.<br /><br />4. </span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/the-temper-trap-concert/20032262-37382253.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">The Temper Trap </span></a><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">We love some Sweet Disposition here at the blog. Ergo, it gets even better live. Especially that first song. Whoa nelly.<br /><br />3. </span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/the-national-concert/20030135-110750.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">The National</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><br />OMG. I heart The National more than life itself. I don’t care how good of a mood you’re in. I don’t care if the sky is vomiting rainbows. I don’t care if you have an unlimited supply of tootsie roll pops. The National will ALWAYS bring you down to a sense of complete and total dejected lament. And it’s kind of the greatest thing ever. Ugh. I love.<br /><br />2. </span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/local-natives-concert/20031326-3737832.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Local Natives</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><br />OKAY. There are a few sessions available for download by the Local Natives. What I need you to make sure that you do is download “Wide Eyes” and “Airplanes.” AND, if you’re a good reader of the blog, you know that “Airplanes” is most definitely one of those sweet songs available for your click, over on the right.<br /><br />1. </span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/bon-iver-concert/20030270-3737628.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Bon Iver</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />HOLY SMOKES NUMBER ONE SESSION! Okay, guys. Now, I feel that the real point of recording something live for your fans is giving them something different. It’s no different than a live show. Don’t play me your record- I’ve got that at the house. Well, Bon Iver has done it again. I am sure that every time I hear the songs of my beloved Bon Iver, that there is no way I could ever love them any more than I do in that moment. Alas, I am always surprised. This session is like money in the bank. It is so beyond any tangible realm of greatness. I am being completely serious. Also, I am now positive that I am supposed to marry Justin Vernon. Once again, our love is real. </span><br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">And, I read where JV did some work on Kanye West's new album. Nice. AND I read that a new Bon Iver album is no longer just a phantom dream I constantly have. It's coming, kids. And it's going to be major.<br /><br />Now, for the most part, these are all bands/peeps that we have discussed before, here at the blog. And that’s the point. Nothing is more glorious than hearing a song you already love turned into something that you want to completely blast out loud like a revival in the church of righteousness.<br /><br />And, </span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/al/artists/alphabetical.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">there is plenty more where that came from</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">. Daytrotter has hosted a veritable smorgasbord [I have always wanted to use that word on the blog. Nicely done] of impressive music. Let me give you a quick little rundown of SOME of their really awesome stuff:<br /><br /></span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/death-cab-for-cutie-concert/20030256-13824.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Death Cab for Cutie </span></a><br /><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/avett-brothers-concert/20030668-3737998.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Avett Brothers</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><br /></span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/dr-dog-concert/20031206-110478.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Dr. Dog</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><br /></span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/grizzly-bear-concert/20030091-110615.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Grizzly Bear</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><br /></span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/yeasayer-concert/20030157-110837.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Yeasayer</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><br /></span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/ra-ra-riot-concert/20030310-110907.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Ra Ra Riot</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span><br /></span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/metric-concert/20031267-37382236.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Metric</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><br /></span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/okkervil-river-concert/20030179-110968.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Okkervil River</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><br /></span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/woods-concert/20030979-37382150.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">We Were Promised Jetpacks<br />Woods</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><br /></span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/here-we-go-magic-concert/20030695-3738050.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Noah & The Whale<br />Here We Go Magic</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><br /></span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/neon-indian-concert/20030987-37382159.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Neon Indian </span></a><br /><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/peter-wolf-crier-concert/20031270-37382238.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Peter Wolf Crier</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><br /></span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/someone-still-loves-you-boris-yeltsin-concert/20053959-110002.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><br /></span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/islands-concert/20053403-3737563.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Islands</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span><br /></span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/the-morning-benders-concert/20030523-3737474.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">The Morning Benders</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><br /></span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/nathaniel-rateliff-concert/20032261-37382165.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Nathaniel Rateliff</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><br /></span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/horse-feathers-concert/20030499-110807.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Horse Feathers </span></a><br /><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/one-eskimo-concert/20031087-3738238.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">One EskimO</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><br /></span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/amos-lee-concert/20030432-53275.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Amos Lee</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><br /></span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/ingrid-michaelson-concert/20030285-3737643.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Ingrid Michealson<br />Ben Taylor</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"> [yes, the son of James Taylor & Carly Simon]<br /></span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/of-montreal-concert/20030037-110296.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Of Montreal</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"> [shout-out to mikey.p]<br /></span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/brett-dennen-concert/20030899-37381992.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Brett Dennen </span></a><br /><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/justin-townes-earle-concert/20030305-3737647.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Au Revoir Simone<br />Justin Townes Earle</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><br /></span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/lights-concert/20030998-19.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">LIGHTS </span></a><br /><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/cold-war-kids-concert/20030026-110201.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Cold War Kids </span></a><br /><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/grace-potter-and-the-nocturnals-concert/20030380-3737713.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Grace Potter & The Nocturnals </span></a><br /><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/j-tillman-concert/20031067-3738275.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">J. Tillman</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><br /></span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/bear-hands-concert/20030442-3737744.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Bear Hands</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><br /></span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/mat-kearney-concert/20030933-37382048.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Mat Kearney</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><br /></span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/the-get-up-kids-concert/20030982-7400.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">The Get Up Kids</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><br /></span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/colin-hay-concert/20030904-37382032.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Beach House<br />Colin Hay </span></a><br /><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/dawes-concert/20031043-3738008.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Dawes</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span><br /></span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/vampire-weekend-concert/20030173-110924.html"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Vampire Weekend</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><br /><br />AND, speaking of Vampire Weekend, you should download their session, if nothing else, for their “Welcome to Daytrotter” bit. It is kind of hilarious.<br /><br />But, really. Did you read that list? I mean, that was just a few. It’s nothing short of incredible. YOU HAVE TO GO TO THE WEBSITE NOW.<br /><br />Well, kids, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it all night: Daytrotter is where it’s at. And therefore, it’s where you should be, too. Also, I ordered one of their summer tees and I got some sweet shades as well. You bet they say “Daytrotter” on the side! AND they sent me some stickers and buttons. To which I say, “right on.”<br /><br />Friends of the music-sphere, I bid you good listening. Also, it would be wise of you to </span><a href="http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/Daytrotter"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">LIKE!</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"> And give the thumbs-up, via Facebook to Daytrotter.com. It’s the best way to get your tunage on. So do it.<br /><br />Also, Team Daytrotter is working on a documentary. </span><a href="http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/Daytrotter"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">LIKE!</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"> it on Facebook and then, build your music karma by sending your pennies and nickels their way. These things take money. </span><br /></span><br /><p><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Finally, [sort of] I just saw where, if you e-mail </span><a href="mailto:teamdaytrotter@gmail.com"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">teamdaytrotter@gmail.com</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"> with my name in the message, <span style="font-family:georgia;">citing that I gave you the resources to check out some DT, then I could get a cool package of some sort. For the record, I had been working on this post long before I knew of this. Honestly. Do you know how long it took me to insert all of those damn hyperlinks? Let me just tell you that it wasn't easy. Okay, you can e-mail if you want, but then will I have to send you a package saying, "thanks" ?? Cause guess what, good reader? I totally would. Let's bring back the Pen Pal Club.</span></span></p><br /><p><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">What's more, you can use that same email address to let Team Daytrotter know that you would like to help them out, via your campus life. You should really do it. I can sense that you're a responsible person.</span></p><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;">Okay, go download.<br /><br />Yours,<br />katie beth<br /><br />WAIT. I just wanted to tell you something that, in most ways, relates to music. You know I now have a new little ipod shuffle? Well, I do. Anyhow, I’m still getting used to it, and I really think we’re getting along quite well. At any rate, there’s this new feature where, when I hold down the button on the earbuds, there’s a lady’s voice who provides me with the song and the people/person singing it. So, I am not too proud to tell you that I have one Ke$ha song. So, here’s the point, if you can even call it that:<br /><br />The voiceover lady said, “Your Love is My Drug, Key Dollar Sign Ha.” Well, I thought that was quite clever of her. In some ways, it was like voiceover lady was making fun of Ke$ha. I like that about her. By saying the literal spelling of her name, voiceover lady was like, being a little bitchy. Anyhow, that was the point. And I really do kind of like that song. Also, I like your beard. See how I did that? Sorry.<br /><br />PS--<br />There are some sweet new songs on the blog's impressive line-up to your right. You're welcome.<br /></span><br /></span><a href="http://www.daytrotter.com/"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">DAYTROTTER 4 LIFE</span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">.<br /></span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Iv6Olix_bLoopfzEof6cG7zkxZbzhAFZWjR4YA0iZ_7slVW5H-KWYpqFNPb171OmhIXxy69oYH6Y0oC4_bmn82m_rwHGb43rbkPEcaPUxqK4LTB3AQdxxguKqc_jF1MRYpFhHDbjKtM/s1600/daytrotter-logo.png"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 181px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 195px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506996744875873346" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Iv6Olix_bLoopfzEof6cG7zkxZbzhAFZWjR4YA0iZ_7slVW5H-KWYpqFNPb171OmhIXxy69oYH6Y0oC4_bmn82m_rwHGb43rbkPEcaPUxqK4LTB3AQdxxguKqc_jF1MRYpFhHDbjKtM/s200/daytrotter-logo.png" /></a>katie bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002442138045459234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1216182109447336970.post-61093221950929552742010-08-05T17:17:00.002-04:002011-05-17T23:07:11.705-04:00the original t-pain[e].<span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">These are the times that try men’s souls. Actually, not hardly, but perhaps. Regardless, I do feel as if I am having an inner-struggle with my current blogging habits. You see, since we last spoke on that ghost post, I have since started a new blog over on OpenSalon.com. I know. I felt really weird about it. I mean, I felt kind of guilty. And I felt…like a cheater. That’s right. A blog cheater. Quite possibly one of the worst kinds of cheater to be. And it got me down.<br /><br />But then, I realized what needed to be done:<br /><br />I had to set-out to make these two blogs different. And I believe that is just what I have done. Kind of.<br /><br />Therefore, it will be the goal of this blog to continue talking important stuff and the goal of the other to document my academic quests in the world of English. Or something like it.<br /><br />Which makes sense, at least to me, and I think it will work. However, this post is going to have to be an exception. I plan on copying and pasting these here words onto the other blog as well. Yep.<br /><br />Okay, let’s settle into it, and please go ahead and realize that this is a heavy post, as I have always wanted to discuss religion with you, but I was never really certain about it. Well, the time is now. Okay. Ready. Set. Go:<br /><br />As a reader of the blog, you know that the blog likes to get down with some stuff that makes our brilliant little minds work. You know, the sort of stuff that we can ponder whilst sippin’ on some tazo tea. Or, you know, gin and juice. Whatever your poison, we need things to think about. Which got me to thinking about a really awesome person in the groovy world of thinkin’. That person is the inspiration for this post, and also, the original T-Pain[e].<br /><br />That’s right and damn straight. We are gonna talk Thomas Paine. So put on those thinking caps and lock-n-load into some common sense, it’s about to get real up in this bitch.<br /><br />Alright kids, this summer I have been taking two summer classes, appropriately enough. One of the classes is Music Appreciation. And, by the way, I thought I already appreciated music and I suppose I did, but now, I appreciate it even more. Let’s hear it for Gregorian chants and blastin’ opera. Second, the other class I have been taking is American Literature. Which has been quite delightful as well. Our fine and free country has housed some really great writers.<br /><br />SIDENOTE: I feel it’s important for me to dwell on that for a little bit. My teacher of that American Lit class brought to my attention that, really, it didn’t take our country much time to start producing writers that are still considered world-class. There’s something to be said for that, Amurrica.<br /><br />And, on that topic, I found myself getting really into some Thomas Paine. I am pretty sure that he was a total bad-ass. And I think that’s why I like him so much, but most importantly, I finally got a chance in my academic career to write a paper about <i>The Age of Reason: An Investigation of True and Fabulous Theology</i>. Ah, it felt right to italicize that. Sweet, sweet rules of punctuation.<br /><br />Anyhow, I might not do it anymore. It gets exhausting after a cool minute. OKAY, finally, it’s time to really discuss it with you, my wonderful reader. I know you’re super excited. If not: ‘the hell’s wrong with you? THIS IS IMPORTANT STUFF WE’RE DOING HERE. And don’t you ever forget it.<br /><br />DISCLAIMER: Okay, so, here at the blog, it is never my intention to step on your political, religious, spiritual, or none-of-the-above toes. So, keep that in my mind. It’s a blog, not a revival or a call to revolt, or anything ridiculous like that.<br /><br />Alright. Now, back in the diz-ay, T-Pain[e] was doing his thing and people were loving him for it. They thought, holy smokes. What a bitchin pamphlet. And so, they read his works and they got down with his words and he was, once again, a bad-ass. But here’s the thing, I believe what qualifies him to be a true bad-ass were his musings on Christianity. Now, here’s where it got tricky for our good friend T-Pain[e].<br /><br />You see, people thought he was off. And, with that publication of his Deistic work, he lost nearly all of his credibility. And he lost it because he went against some pretty crucial stuff that those good folks held near and dear. But hey! It makes sense!<br /><br />So, let’s talk Deism. And let’s set-out to really establish The Age of Reason: An Investigation of [yadda yadda yadda] as something of great importance.<br /><br />Wowsers. That was a fine intro. High-five, me.<br /><br />Here we go, good reader:<br /><br />Now, Deism, in its true definition, is “a belief in God based on reason rather than revelation and involving the view that God has set the universe in motion but does not interfere with how it runs.” Get it? Okay, if you need further explanation, our buddy T-Pain[e] most notably said of himself that “my mind is my own church.”<br /><br />I believe that clarifies it. So, what he was establishing [at least to me] was this whole idea that sure, there is something bigger and better at work, here, but that doesn’t mean that we have to go to some sort of institution while dressed in our khakis and button-downs to get it. Furthermore, it’s the idea that the stuff around us [i.e. nature] is where any sort of religion needs to gather its roots, pun definitely intended.<br /><br />Let me give you a for-instance: when I was a Senior in high school, way back in the day, [insert wink here] we were to do a Senior sermon at my church. And it was a pretty big deal for me, as it should have been. And so I won’t quote it in any great length, but the gist of the whole thing was something along the lines of this:<br /><br />A few months before I gave the sermon, a classmate of mine died in this really random tragedy. And it was awful. And when I went to his funeral, and I saw his little sister I just couldn’t wrap my head around any of it. The whole thing was uncalled for. And all anyone could do was accept it and try to get something out of it. And then move on.<br /><br />Well, I know this is getting heavy, but I have an uplifting point. The point is that when I got back in the car I was really emotional, obviously, and during the drive, something hit the windshield. Guess what it was? That’s right, it was the remains of some rude ass bird’s last meal hitting with impressive fervor. And it was funny. And right there in some big, huge, adult situation, something really silly happened: a bird shit on the car.<br /><br />This is what I am talking about. Religion, spirituality, that whole song-and-dance, should rest easy in not having to be some big, opulent revelation or miracle or anything like that. It should be something that, if you’re looking for it, you’ll see it.<br /><br />I didn’t expect to go into that with you, but I’m glad I did.<br /><br />And I believe that’s what Thomas Paine was trying to say. He was trying to say that our religion doesn’t have to be like anyone else’s. We don’t have to go into the same building on the same day and sing the same songs and read the same passages to claim religion. We don’t have to support the same politics or the same social issues to establish ourselves as believers. And we sure as hell don’t have to falsely believe anything we don’t believe. No one wants to be a phony.<br /><br />We can’t all expect to have the same relationship with the same person. In fact, that whole belief just seems silly, now doesn’t it?<br /><br />And I don’t want anything to get misconstrued [although I am sure it will] What I am saying is that religion, or, in this respect, Christianity, can mean different things to different people. And rightfully so. I believe that’s the intention. I think God’s the kind of guy [or lady ???] that would laugh at the right times and get what it is I am trying to say. I don’t think that God is sitting around with a naughty and nice list. Being a Christian means, to me, having a relationship with God. And that relationship is unique.<br /><br />I don’t think God minds where we are or what we’re doing. I think he’s just there for us if we need him. Kind of like the opposite of an over-bearing parent. Or like a library. Go with me on this: God is like a library because a library is there. They have books I can read. And I can read them and I can interpret them however I want to. And if they don’t have the book that I need, I can go to a different library or to the store. And the library won’t mind. If I buy a book at Books-A-Million one week, and then go to check-out another book at the library the next week, the library will still accept my card. No feelings will be hurt.<br /><br />Explanation: the different books are different religions. I can pick and choose what to believe and still return to home base.<br /><br />Perhaps that’s not what Deism truly is, and perhaps I don’t really care what Deism really means. I mean, we just established that we in no way have to fit a label to fit into a religion. I think that’s where it all gets confused. We try awfully hard to find something that we can jump up and say “Yes! That is what I believe!”<br /><br />And I suppose it’s okay to believe all of something. In fact, I sort of envy people who do, but I can’t. I shouldn’t have to tell people what I believe to establish my credibility as a spiritual person. And if I try to explain to them what it is I do believe, I find that people act like I need to be enlightened. Guess what? I have. And they should read the blog.<br /><br />I realize I’m going off on a bit of a rant, but religion is a tricky little thing. And rightfully so.<br /><br />In the end, I don’t have any real authority in your life, but I do want to tell you that it is just a-okay with me if you pull from different belief systems and create your own groovy little spiritual revival. I think the people upstairs will high-five us for it. After all, we'll finally be using our common sense and we’ll finally be getting it right.<br /><br />Revolution!<br /><br />Yours,<br />katie beth<br />with today’s inspiration: the original T-Pain[e]</span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN2TcVLRNxWorfDdSXiXEUNrdTexSU76Tadvu1C5akENC1LJPcVRIvANCAhE_GRRTALuS64UfbFkJw5AKiQVe59ItIYMaaKwe6AevPmgxzRP3xtnvaoeQZc8PYs-wiPR0lPatmRB067Lo/s1600/tpaine2.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 154px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502039561866748914" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN2TcVLRNxWorfDdSXiXEUNrdTexSU76Tadvu1C5akENC1LJPcVRIvANCAhE_GRRTALuS64UfbFkJw5AKiQVe59ItIYMaaKwe6AevPmgxzRP3xtnvaoeQZc8PYs-wiPR0lPatmRB067Lo/s200/tpaine2.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL-4ltbfDLt_3Dn6UMCSdi7yb5JwEh_kMBwmb8JMUd-9gznuP5JmjJs_kF4ZT_oKRPsB1OQu4fydXLVzidzkVAnKHqQXE9v9bOknCI_M25SY9Qr-fT-0sUtbCfni8Z9zaAmBzMDqLl8x8/s1600/tpaine.png"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 135px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 39px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502038496857788258" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL-4ltbfDLt_3Dn6UMCSdi7yb5JwEh_kMBwmb8JMUd-9gznuP5JmjJs_kF4ZT_oKRPsB1OQu4fydXLVzidzkVAnKHqQXE9v9bOknCI_M25SY9Qr-fT-0sUtbCfni8Z9zaAmBzMDqLl8x8/s200/tpaine.png" /></a></div>katie bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002442138045459234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1216182109447336970.post-18355784207687403152010-07-18T18:36:00.002-04:002011-05-17T23:08:07.533-04:00ghost busters, yo.<span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Man-oh-man-oh-man. Much has happened since we last spoke, person reading this blog. First and foremost, I have finally declared a big and impressive major. Thus far, it is set as English, but that sure as hell ain’t to say that it might not change. Also, whenever I write these posts, I feel the most important thing towards gaining my effectiveness, if you will, is writing the way that I would tell you something in person. Therefore, if I start a sentence with “and,” or if I fail to properly use quotations, italics, etc. around things that need to be quoted or italicized, etc. and when I overuse hyphens - well, please don’t let that make me lose any of my credibility as a budding English major. Really. I do know the rules. This blog is like my English rebel yell. Word.<br /><br />Okay, now that we’ve got that out of the way, I have to quickly settle into what this post is all about:<br /><br />Here at the blog, you know I like to tell you all about my dreams and aspirations. As a quick, written montage of some of those dreams, let me provide a list:<br /><br />1. There was the dream I had about my car, Nelson, when he told me about his dreams of wanting to become an honorary member of the TMNT. Best dream ever.<br /><br />2. There was my aspiration/dream to be a cast member on Glee where I would sing “Tomorrow,” of LOA fame. I’m sorry what? What’s “LOA?” Little Orphan Annie, bitches. That’s what.<br /><br />Alright. So, now we have established that I do, in fact, tell you about my dreams/aspirations. I hope you care to know. And I really care to know about yours. Let’s meet up later and talk about them.<br /><br />Anyhow, it’s now time for a big number three dream/aspiration:<br /><br />Clearly, good music is a big component of the blog. In fact, it’s probably the most important component. I take great pride in the tunes that I select to pass onto you, my faithful and groovy reader. And it’s always been a dream of mine to be there when good music is getting its up-and-go.<br /><br />[SIDENOTE: I’m not sure if the same is true for you, but apparently the Youtube videos are occasionally showing up as nothing more than white squares. Clearly, that sucks. Clearly, I’m working on it]<br /><br />Alright, back to it:<br /><br />For instance, when I first started jammin’ to John C. Mayer, I used to sit around and think how awesome it would have been to have been there when he was just playing at Borders and what-not. Basically, how cool it would be to say that “I knew him when.”<br /><br />Good people, I feel that dream has come true. Let me explain:<br /><br />If you’re a good reader of the blog and someone who follows the guidelines that I set in place for this epic blog, then you’ve listened to the songs that I put up. And if you’re an even better reader of the blog, then you’ve even ventured to go so far as to click the links. Now, those are links to [mainly] Myspace pages. And even though I don’t have a Myspace, I have always respected the musical prowess that this Web 2.0 site houses. Really.<br /><br />What I’m getting at is that first link. It’s the one that reads “there’s ghosts in them woods.” Now, at first, the main reason for this post was my realization that I have never really talked about the ghosts in the blog. I know! It’s crazy. I mean, I’ve talked about all sorts of great music, but I’ve never told you all about ghosts in the woods. Well, the time is now.<br /><br />First, let’s set into place that ghosts in the woods, or as I like to call them “g’s in the w’s,” are c.carden and s.jenkins. These two also have a righteously cool dog named wall-e. That alone should be reason enough for you to go check them out, but just in case you need more…<br /><br />Good people, this is some good music. And, once again, I feel I have certainly established a reputation of someone who genuinely recognizes epic tunage. So, you can trust me. Feel free to go now and open that link somewhere so you can be groovin along whilst reading the rest of this post. It would be very appropriate.<br /><br />Anyway, getting back to the dream and the point of this post:<br /><br />After a series of fortunate events [like how I did that, L. Snicket fans?] I really feel safe in saying that I knew them when. Or now. Hm. Well, anyway, the sad news is that ghosts in the woods have since moved from good Kingsport to Nash Vegas. And I’m not going to say anything else about it because I’m a firm believer in the power of a jinx. Plus, the whole thing really gets me down. So, we’re not going to go there. But just know that I’m jealous of Nashville.<br /><br />And, honestly, their move couldn’t have occurred at a worse time. Things were already heading south, as a direct result of another one of those damn twilight movies hitting the box office like a ton of bricks. The end of June/beginning of July 2010 was tough. Really. And now, here at the winding down of July, I have to ask one question to the good people over at that Em-Tee-Vee: “What in the hell am I gonna do without The [damn] Hills? Seriously.” Also, I am now going to confess my love for some Justin Bieber tunes. Gees. Things are really getting low here in k-town. But at least I have Fun Fest. And it is in Fun Fest that I see the light.<br /><br />At any rate, good reader, I feel like I could go on and on telling you about how great them ghosts in the woods are, but on some level, that sort of talk seems to cheapen the whole thing. I mean, it’s not every day that I can’t seem to come up with a word that’s important enough to describe something. Ergo, I’m not gonna try. But they really are something pretty special. And I feel good about sharing that information with you.<br /><br />And, so, I’ve been thinking about what ghosts in the woods fans would call themselves. You know, like how Adam Lambert fans are “Glamberts.” Or, how Jimmy Buffet fans are “Parrot Heads,” not to be confused with “Dead Heads.” Well, anyway, here’s what I’ve got so far:<br /><br />1. Ghosties … no, that’s too obvious<br />2. Forest Rangers … i.e. “woods” ??<br />3. White Sheets … not very effective if I don’t somehow incorporate two holes for eyes<br />4. Ghost Busters … I feel that has definite potential<br /><br />Also, I need to tell you something else in this post. I am really impressed with myself. Once again, good readers of the blog know about past posts and hold them dear to their hearts. In a post about hm, I believe it was Avatar, I gave you a wonderful poem by W.S. Merwin. Guess what homies? He’s just been announced as the 17th American Poet Laureate. Holy smokes. CALLED IT!<br /><br />Furthermore, I have, in past posts, given you lists about songs/bands/new albums that I have been groovin to. On NPR’s awesome website, they listed the top albums of 2010, so far. Actually, fans voted. Anyway, much of the albums listed have, at one time or another, lent their auditory bliss to the blog. Again. CALLED IT.<br /><br />So, with that information locked into your lovely brain, go ahead and re-heed my advice about bumpin a little ghosts in the woods. Cause let’s face it. I know my shit.<br /><br />ONE MORE THING:<br />The blog would like to send out a big ole bitchin b-day wish to a good reader of the blog, m.fox. Okay, here goes: Happy Birthday to your friend and mine, Madelyn: Alias Madge. I hope your day is both rockin’ and rollin’.<br /><br />Yours,<br />katie beth<br /><br />PS: </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><a href="http://www.myspace.com/ghostsinthewoods">http://www.myspace.com/ghostsinthewoods</a><br />^ here’s that link again, so click it and get familiar. By the way, I know if you click it or not. I have a blog radar/computer x-ray vision gun. And I really do want you to click it right the hell now. I feel like it’s my duty in life to head up the Kingsport chapter of ghosts in the woods’ fan club. No, really. It’s completely legit. Also, I will now be incorporating what will be known as the blog’s “Final Word.” Or, you know, sentence.<br /><br />FINAL WOR<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEcZoyERqgnT7-USjNaE4UCs4YZEYBnd0JXRxewl3vdUzSsgNDtWqUf0j9wWm8HA5X17SNJMnTYNAtVTQS7XkQDFnjmewrc2hoAAttm_YNf0g8VCHSJyow84m7YccDMq8Esd77U6rCTsM/s1600/ghostpost.bmp"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 141px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 197px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495378588473592818" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEcZoyERqgnT7-USjNaE4UCs4YZEYBnd0JXRxewl3vdUzSsgNDtWqUf0j9wWm8HA5X17SNJMnTYNAtVTQS7XkQDFnjmewrc2hoAAttm_YNf0g8VCHSJyow84m7YccDMq8Esd77U6rCTsM/s200/ghostpost.bmp" /></a>D: I ♥ g’s in the w’s. And you should, too.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span>katie bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002442138045459234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1216182109447336970.post-76571892868291582532010-06-14T17:17:00.002-04:002011-05-17T23:09:07.139-04:00the futile justification of non-futile annie.<span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Well, I suppose it’s fair to say that it’s obvious as to what this post is pertaining to. But let’s pretend like you hadn’t already seen the title. Instead, let me kick this off with a question that has been quietly, yet ferociously, puzzling the minds of the world for quite some time now: what the hell is a bottom-dollar?<br /><br />Well, good reader. You’ve come to the right place. Because here, I answer the tough questions. I go where no blogger [lame] has gone before. But I digress.<br /><br />Actually, you probably have already defined that phrase. It’s not like it’s all that challenging to figure-out. But it’s rather lovely, isn’t it? That earnest little orphan is so fervently optimistic that there will, in fact, be sun tomorrow, that she’s willing to bet that last dollar. That’s some heavy shit.<br /><br />No, no. It’s not right of me to poke any sort of cynical fun. And if I did and if I do, I didn’t and won’t mean it. I love Annie. Genuinely. And if you’ve never seen it, well, that is so completely too bad. Don’t worry. I have it on VHS. AND the soundtrack. And it’s important for you to know that it’s the 1982 version with Carol Burnett as Ms. Hannigan. It’s the best one. Really.<br /><br />Naturally, these aren’t the sorts of things that a person tells other people for fear of being seen as un-cool. But, I feel that we’ve known each other long enough. And I feel that music is a major component of this here blog. And I have certainly established my credibility as someone who genuinely knows good music. I hope you’ll agree.<br /><br />So, therefore, when I tell you how great Annie is, you will not only agree with me, but you’ll confide in my musical tastes, because I’ve never steered you wrong before.<br /><br />Alright, here’s what I’ve been thinking. As a person who has loved musical theatre for, well, nearly my own forever, I sure do love Glee. Now, Glee is a wonderful television program that, although, does go through a few cheesy dialogues, it still does an excellent job of high-lighting big-time Broadway-esque voices.<br /><br />Naturally, I have often pondered who I would play on Glee. And here’s what I’ve come up with:<br /><br />Picture it: there’s some sort of set-up where one of the cast members has to come back into the school, perhaps because they left a biology book in their locker. I suppose it could be an English book. Or a math book. Or a pencil. Okay, that’s not important.<br /><br />ANYWAY, this cast member hears a stirring and instantly knows that there’s strange talk of musical theatre abroad. That’s when I will be revealed, mopping the floors.<br /><br />BAM. It’s a dark lit hallway with a single spotlight. And there I am, singing “Tomorrow.” Now, don’t get it twisted. I won’t be doing it in its original form. By that time, I will have perfected my acapella interpretation. But my version, naturally, will be cool and beyond-boss. Maybe I’ll even dye my hair red. Needless to say, it will be legendary.<br /><br />Yep. That’s how it would all play out.<br /><br />Anyway, good reader. I realize that this post may not seem important. But hell’s bells! Nothing could be more important than the heart wrenching story of a freckled orphan who waits and dreams of the day that her parents will come back and get her!<br /><br />I mean, have you ever heard “Maybe” GEES! Don’t even go there without a steady supply of Kleenex on-tap. There little Annie is with all of the other little orphans and she’s singing about the type of people that she hopes her parents are. And even though they left her, she’s not bitter about it at all. She says how she “[bets] they’re good, why shouldn’t they be? Their one mistake was giving up me.”<br /><br />HOLY SMOKES. I mean really.<br /><br />You just let that settle-in for a cool little minute.<br /><br />Have you ever noticed how much I overuse hyphens? Well, much like Annie, hyphens are incredibly underrated.<br /><br />Anyhow, the real beauty of Annie is that she never gives up on knowing that something good will come out of something tough. She really is a tough little cookie.<br /><br />And I completely respect that in a person. And I fully believe in the power of positive thinking. After all, the sun will, undoubtedly, come out tomorrow. I mean, unless the world ends or something, but like that’s gonna happen. Although, I did hear the other day that Ricky Martin recently starred in Les Miserables. Pretty sure that’s one of the seven signs of the apocalypse. So, you know, cross your fingers.<br /><br />Yours today and tomorrow,<br />katie beth</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifsBwZDn9Y06228ACrzKN_NSvmdMXSor1xW5oYS6hSn1EC1yqIkHIvLPKrnZaLzbfUhQsSRILPvL5_jv_qglpwzAIai9YWtkpsVX9zDk4Chg4D8dOHrLLK_4LHIO1rcHITefhmiurGgi4/s1600/Annie.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 196px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 149px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482748039295932098" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifsBwZDn9Y06228ACrzKN_NSvmdMXSor1xW5oYS6hSn1EC1yqIkHIvLPKrnZaLzbfUhQsSRILPvL5_jv_qglpwzAIai9YWtkpsVX9zDk4Chg4D8dOHrLLK_4LHIO1rcHITefhmiurGgi4/s200/Annie.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><div></div>katie bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002442138045459234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1216182109447336970.post-12451509554093790902010-06-01T12:58:00.003-04:002011-05-17T23:10:28.887-04:00ziggy and his pocket full o' stardust.<span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Good, good, good friend of the blog. How long has it been since we last spoke? I don’t know either, but gees, it feels like it’s been forever and a day. And I’ve missed you. I hope the same is true for you missing the blog. I really love having you around.<br /><br />Anyhow, let’s settle right on into it, just like we’ve never left. And I thought, what better way to kick off the first o-fficial post of the summer then by me telling you about some of my current obsessions. Some of them are new and some of them are resurfacing from obsessions past. I think you’ll enjoy hearing about them. If not, well, I guess that’s just too bad.<br /><br />OKAY. Here goes.<br /><br />1. Zippy (not to be confused with Ziggy)<br />Zippy is the name I have given to my new ipod shuffle. That’s right. My old shuffle was never found and I’m actually really surprised that I never did find it. It’s quite the bummer. HOWEVER. My new shuffle is pretty stellar. Its name is Zippy because it looks like a mini Zippo. Which makes perfect sense.<br /><br />2. Best Buy<br />Have you ever shopped for compact discs (disks?) at Best Buy? Well, you should. A few months, (weeks?) ago, I bought some incredible tunage. Which brings us to number three…<br /><br />3. BROKEN BELLS.<br />Well, I heard them a good little while ago, and they have been featured on the blog’s line-up of important music for quite some time now, but I finally got my hands on the actual cd. And holy moly. It’s quite spectacular. Broken Bells is the fusion-groovy-hybrid of James Mercer of the Shins fame, and Danger Mouse of just flat-out awesome fame. Anyhow, it’s great. Go check it.<br /><br />4. High Violet<br />I know I’ve talked a lot about The National’s new album, but I’m probably not going to be able to quit. If you haven’t done so already, I really want you to hear it. I am in total love.<br /><br />5. Fleet Foxes<br />I also picked up the album by this awesome band at Best Buy. Now, Fleet Foxes aren’t really new news. I had heard “Blue Ridge Mountains” a while back, but now that I have their album, I’m gonna tell you that it’s important for you to own it as well. Especially a little ditty called “White Winter Hymnal.” HELL’S BELLS. That’s all I got to say about that one.<br /><br />6. PANDORA (not be confused with anything Avatar-related)<br />Now, I have discussed this incredible application before, but we’re gonna do it again. Because it just deserves it. I entered “Bon Iver” into mine and so now, I have “Bon Iver Radio.” It’s true what they say. Dreams really do come true. And it bumps constant Bon Iver, Iron & Wine, Tim Fite, Andrew Bird, Joe Purdy, Alexi Murdoch…whoa, it goes on and on. And it just gets better.<br /><br />7. BPM-CURRENT DANCE HITS<br />XM/Sirius has done it again. Holy smokes. This station features some boss little remixes. For instance, there was a nice little David Lei Brandt remix of Jay Sean’s hot groove “Down.” That’s good music, kids. This station comes to you from the blog with a high recommendation, cause that song gots down like the economy. And then they played a Kaskade remix of Telephone. That was super-cool. PLUS! Kylie Minogue is back, bitches.<br /><br />Alright, here comes the big finish:<br /><br />8. ZIGGY STARDUST<br />Okay, speaking of satellite radio, you know how much I love The Coffee House. And, it had been a while since I had the extreme pleasure of hearing this song by the wonder that is David Bowie. So, therefore, this song is now on that groovy little listing of videos on the right of this ground-breaking blog. And, let’s talk about it for a little bit:<br /><br />Lyrically, it’s one of the saddest songs I think I’ve ever heard. So, when you listen-in, listen-in for the words. They’re boss. I think Ziggy Stardust is going to be my new alias. Probably shouldn’t have told you that.<br /><br />Seriously, though. David Bowie can kind of do no wrong. I mean, in Under Pressure, right there at the end, that lyric that starts off with “love’s such an old-fashioned word…” Holy Toledo. You can’t deny that kind of greatness. He is awesome. And Ziggy Stardust really is his best. That’s what I think, anyhow.<br /><br />DAVID+BOWIE=FLAT-OUT, FULL-ON COOL.<br /><br />PLUS! There are a few more new songs available for your auditory bliss. So, I don’t really know what you’re waiting for. Grab those handy-dandy earbuds and groove around for a cool little minute. That line-up of impressive videos is patiently waiting. And just know that all of those songs are obsessions that swim around in my brain 24/7. Groovin’ is what we do.<br /><br />Alright, those were my eight current obsessions. And eight’s a good number. We could even call this post “Kate Plus 8.” Too soon? Perhaps.<br /><br />At any rate, you know how much I love you. Do I need to say it again? Well, just to reiterate, and never to belabor, I do love you. In fact, you’re my number nine on that list of current obsessions.<br /><br />Yours in extreme obsession,<br />katie beth<br /><br />WAIT. There’s more.<br />I can’t leave without telling you how obsessed I was with the second installment of SJP and the ladies of Sex & The City. I mean, really. I felt like I had already seen the movie before I ever even went. But then, in true SATC fashion, I hadn’t seen anything yet. It really was the best sex yet. AND I have one word, four letters: LIZA. </span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">In fact, I liked that movie so much, I might even put a ring on it. Again: too soon? This time: definitely.<br /><br />Also, the soundtrack to the movie is quite impressive. I can really get down to the Bali-Wood-esque vibe. Plus, that Empire State of Mind can do no wrong. And as much as I love Jay-Z, this song just gets better with only Alicia Keys. It’s like an effing revival at the church of cool. Be sure to check it out.<br /><br />Anyway, go out and see the movie. We’ll talk more about it later. I don’t want to ruin it for those who haven’t seen it yet.<br /><br />Okay, this time this post really is over. At least until we meet again.<br /><br />Now go get obsessed. And, as always, feel free to fall in love. And do it with a sweet disposition. See how I did that?</span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">REPRESENT.</span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_D6GaBcFF3ocFrCQkRkj_y4fwiVGeg60WXhHUDOM9zOZ6kD05Y5Cd59HFOiCqEnWmNmdO6ZNABPh1UCQ-ot1ngYUxZoQ_9rKz7LMLzkGAs-DoQhoOwVYV5QWG9rG0Z1OmplXinjJu_1I/s1600/01Ziggy.jpg"><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 197px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477851021642826866" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_D6GaBcFF3ocFrCQkRkj_y4fwiVGeg60WXhHUDOM9zOZ6kD05Y5Cd59HFOiCqEnWmNmdO6ZNABPh1UCQ-ot1ngYUxZoQ_9rKz7LMLzkGAs-DoQhoOwVYV5QWG9rG0Z1OmplXinjJu_1I/s200/01Ziggy.jpg" /></span></a><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><br /><div></span></div>katie bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002442138045459234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1216182109447336970.post-52603423402991455692010-05-18T19:25:00.006-04:002011-05-17T23:12:19.320-04:00we're human and pigs ain't.<span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Is it time for a new post? I’m thinkin yes. And so, let’s settle into it. You know what I’ve been thinking a lot about lately? I bet you can’t guess, but if you could, you might be tempted to say some things like “coffee,” or “The Constitution,” or “bagels,” or even “The Divine Command Theory.” And let me tell you something, all of those guesses would be so painfully correct, but they’re not the direct basis of this here new post.<br /><br />So, if you kept on listing things, trying to find the actual topic of this post, and if you guessed “Xenotransplantation,” not only would you be right, but I’d also be awfully impressed. Now, I realize that seems like a heavy topic and son-of-a-b, it sure as hell is, but more than that, it’s downright interesting and it’s super-important.<br /><br />In order to set the scene, I first have to tell you that I ended up with a B in Philosophy. Upon first learning of my grade, it was a kind of depressing thing for me. Cause, here’s what: that was definitely some of the most interesting stuff I’ve heard in years. I mean really. So, when you don’t get the top grade, you feel a little down about yourself. And really, you start to question it all.<br /><br />But hold on, cause then I realized it would be kind of silly to award a shiny A in Philosophy. Because I mean, that would mean that I fully understood everything that was taught to me, and I don’t. And that’s the best part. And I’ve got to tell you something: I have never been happier about a B. Really. It’s a good thing.<br /><br />Anyhow, you might be currently asking yourself, “Wait. What in the hell is Xenotransplantation?” And it’s to that question that I tell you to cool your jets, cause I’m fixing to fill you in.<br /><br />In my Philosophy class, right there towards the end, we watched a PBS documentary called “Organ Farm.” Now, I have to tell you that I don’t know where it is that I stand on the whole thing. I mean, it’s a big issue, but really, I guess it’s not an issue any longer if it’s already going on. And I can see the pros and I can certainly see the cons.<br /><br />Holy smokes. Wait a second, you need a definition. Okay, Xenotransplantation is a big, fun n’ fancy word that basically means that we inject animals with human DNA, raise them, and harvest their organs for human transplantation. And then, you know, hope for the best. And, in this PBS flick, the animals being used are pigs.<br /><br />And I gotta tell you, at first, I felt sorry for the cute little things, but then I thought, well, our society has no problem [at least for the majority] with justifying killing pigs for nothing more than a little breakfast side-dish. And then I felt like a jerk, but there’s certainly something more exploitive about this whole organ farm thing. It seems, as barbaric as it may sound, natural to kill an animal and eat it. That’s been going on for years, and that certainly isn’t to say that it’s right, but the idea of re-harvesting a species just so that we can have hearts and kidneys on stand-by feels egotistical.<br /><br />And get ready, cause here’s where the Philosophy really sets in with this whole topic of Speciesism. I mean, I guess we’re all guilty of it, cause most of us eat animals. But let me tell you something. I was a vegetarian once for a day. And it was the worst day of my life. And I don’t feel guilty about it, cause I treat animals with respect. I mean, I feel like I at least give them a proper send off by really appreciating them as good food. Oh, gees. Now I just feel sick.<br /><br />And I appreciated that these doctors, who are of obvious brilliance that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to achieve, allowed cameras to document what’s happening inside their big, white, top-secret warehouses. Regardless of how I or anyone else feels about it, there’s no denying the historical significance, but then I really start to wonder whether or not these brilliant scientists aren’t just on some super-warped power trip. If I had the ability and the know-how to dominate a species that can’t speak for itself just to save a member of my own species, I don’t know how I’d handle that power, but just because we’ve learned enough to keep on advancing in these “scientific breakthroughs,” well, that certainly doesn’t justify us actually doing so.<br /><br />Furthermore, this whole “AIDS II” thing really makes me want to take a back-seat. Undeniably, being able to give the people who patiently wait exactly what they need to get up out of their hospital beds and live-out the rest of their life would be wonderful. I mean really.<br /><br />I’m sure that I would be whistling a different tune [if I could actually whistle] if I found out tomorrow that I had to have a heart transplant. I think that I would see it as such that I could, in fact, die waiting for a human heart. And, hell, if that’s going to be the case, then I might as well put it all out there and go for it. Sure, sign me up for a pig heart, but then again, what if we did manifest AIDS II? In that respect, the good would not outweigh the bad. Because even though I would live with this new beating heart, I could have the potential to wipe-out the entire human race. I’m sure that’s not what those auspicious white-clothed scientists set-out to achieve.<br /><br />Cause it’s really scary. Because we don’t know what kind of disease could mutate, because it’s something that we would have never seen before, we would have no way of testing for it. You can’t test for something that you’ve never seen before.<br /><br />And it really seems nothing short of disgusting that these drug companies are funding this whole endeavor. Really, I’m sure that a lot of the doctors and the scientists who were interviewed in this good-time PBS movie genuinely do see all the good in what they’re doing, but it probably goes without saying that the drug companies only see dollar signs.<br /><br />The disgust sure would lie within using and exploiting pigs, but it really lies within the reality that these cures aren’t being funded so that we’ll have some pretty little rainbows-and-sunshine ending to our heartbreaking situations. The funding is being granted so that yet another big-time medicine franchise can get going, so that the drug companies can make even more gargantuan amounts of money. And, of course, with these shiny new genetically manifested organs, we’ll live longer. And living longer sure does mean that we’ll need even more treatments and more medicine. And more reasons to turn ourselves into hypochondriacs every time we switch on the TV.<br /><br />SCREW THOSE DRUG ADS AND THEIR GENERAL SYMPTOMS OF THEIR MADE-UP ILLNESSESS AND THEIR WORD VOMIT LISTING OF LIFE-THREATENING SIDE-EFFECTS. Those things ruin perfectly good television.<br /><br />Side effects may include, but are not limited to: DEATH WITHOUT PURPOSE. Holy smokes. Wouldn’t that just be the worst?<br /><br />Inevitably, if [when] this really does take-off, I wonder how they’ll advertise it. I wonder what pretty little pictures they’ll use to make us feel like what’s been done is completely justified because big-time ivy league graduates have researched and developed it, just for us.<br /><br />Just because “smart people” are doing it, doesn’t mean it’s a “smart idea.”<br /><br />Moreover, on the video aspect, I can’t understand how these extremely educated people could say some of the things they were saying. It doesn’t take an important diploma to see that a cold, metal room with tons of plastic enveloping every table is not, at all, “a pig-friendly environment.” I mean really. At some point, you start to realize that these scientists aren’t just giving us the facts. They’re pitching the idea. They’re promoting it and trying to make it sound as cuddly as possible. And by stating that they’re “trying to make [the pigs’] lives as pleasant as possible” well, that’s a ridiculous thing to say. If they were, in fact, doing so, all they’d really need is some mud.<br /><br />I realize that’s an overstatement of what they’re saying. I realize that what they’re doing is nothing short of incredible, but I also realize that a lot of the interviews felt contrived and rehearsed. It seemed as though the doctors were given a list of little phrases to try and work in. For instance, “it will change the face of medicine forever,” or “it creates a set of options for physicians,” but the reality is that we’re constantly searching for something else to secure our own best interests, no matter the cost, both literally and figuratively.<br /><br />Hello speciesism. It’s nice to see you again.<br /><br />Anyhow, let me sum this topic on up with the following, because I just, ever so confidently, added “xenotransplantation” to my e-lectronic dictionary. So, let’s hear it for seemingly logical innovation at the cheap little cost of swine exploitation in some top-secret warehouse. Justification lies in the reasoning that we’re human and pigs ain’t. Rest in peace, benevolence. We’ll bury you right-next to Hippocrates and his oath. Speciesism looks better on us, anyhow.<br /><br />Gees, guys.<br /><br />Well, that wasn’t too heavy, was it? I hope not. I also would like to congratulate the undoubtedly few who actually made it to the end of this post. And just when I thought you couldn’t get any cooler. Way to keep with it, my good and beautiful reader.<br /><br />At any rate, I guess you now see why this class was so down-right awesome. And there’s more to come. Cause I really like talking about it. I hope you like reading it. Alright, now that this post is over, you know I always invite you and honestly implore you to stick around and enjoy some of those tunes. I think you and me both need some background music while we sit around and ponder all that is “xenotransplantation.” And really, ponder all that is the blog.<br /><br />Now, go eat some bacon.<br /><br />Yours,<br />katie beth<br />Hey, wait a second. Did you know that James Earl Jones had an incapacitating stutter until he was fourteen? Well, just thought I’d throw t<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5tibjymfYguXZCHivcp_D_J4aWx-TOA9qVB9G_go9mR7Diwej2jzedpNKlopYoVmapcfcErEo6l4u90S946_wjINeFWdKVR9ciS2-vjo4uWqtc21fxTMhslnzkz_L-KvDoETl-xv4bMI/s1600/Thats-all-Folks-Porky-Pig2.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 204px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 167px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472755809946041714" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5tibjymfYguXZCHivcp_D_J4aWx-TOA9qVB9G_go9mR7Diwej2jzedpNKlopYoVmapcfcErEo6l4u90S946_wjINeFWdKVR9ciS2-vjo4uWqtc21fxTMhslnzkz_L-KvDoETl-xv4bMI/s200/Thats-all-Folks-Porky-Pig2.jpg" /></a>hat out there.</span><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div>katie bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002442138045459234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1216182109447336970.post-65194123047628622372010-05-13T16:48:00.002-04:002011-05-17T23:14:02.249-04:00touch gloves again.<span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Holy moly. It’s been a good little while since we last talked, blog-style. First things first: if you told me happy b-day, via the wonder that is facebook, let me tell you how glad I am that you decided to do so. You people are completely boss. Also, somewhere between that last post and today, we broke 1,000 hits, people. You know I want you to go fix yourself another drink and toast the blog. You can even pop champagne. I mean, granted you got that dough. So, now that we’re back into the swing of things, let me give you a fast little update on some important stuff:<br /><br />1. I am now twenty years-old and man-oh-man, do I look different. No, that was a lie, but I do feel different. Why? Cause, holy smokes, I’m no longer a teenager. And rightfully so. I’ve felt far-away from that for a good little while, anyhow.<br /><br />2. There are some kickin’ songs getting their well-deserved time on this here blog, over to your right. Check em out, while you’re checkin’ in.<br /><br />3. I stayed up the other night and watched True Life, over on MTV. You and me both will be glad to know that Nikki and Amanda no longer hate their plastic surgery.<br /><br />4. Summer is in full-on-good-times mode. Let’s make plans to hang out. And let’s do it real soon.<br /><br />5. I can’t stop watching those “Real Housewives,” over on Bravo. The New York ones make me feel like I actually am Jewish. (ch-yeah!) The New Jersey ones make me feel like an Italian. (ch-yeah! again) The Orange County ones make me want to get a spray tan. (not so ch-yeah.) And the Atlanta ones make me want to kick-start my rappin’ career (total ch-yeah!)<br /><br />6. I heard and then saw that girl again from Books-A-Million. And she acted like she remembered who I was, but I dodged her and kept on moving. It was an awkward situation for everyone involved.<br /><br />7. I am still frantically checking my final grades. I don’t know what the damn hold up is. I showed up on time and took the tests. The least you can do is let me know how much I rocked it. So far, we’ve got three As, but I’m still waiting on Philosophy and Anatomy II. CROSS YO FINGAS!<br /><br />Okay, now that you’re updated on some important stuff, let’s talk a little:<br /><br />I know I already said it, but I really was impressed and down right honored by all of the awesome people who took the time out of their day to tell me happy birthday. It really did mean the world. I mean, really. It did. And do you remember that one post I did with the picture of them Power Rangers on it?<br /><br />Well, if you do, you are a true fan of the blog and, therefore, a true love in my life, but if you don’t, I pretty much promised to always be there for you. In fact, I told you that if anyone or everyone starts giving you a bunch of shit, you can call me. And I really meant it. HOLY MOLY, now you really can call me and I guess you could have called me before, but now it’s a lot more exciting, since I got a new phone. 423.384.9126 Now, I’m gonna trust you with that number. Don’t abuse it. And now, I know who I can give shout-outs to:<br /><br />The following is a list of the people who told me happy b-day, via the book of face. And I am so super-honored. And we’re even gonna shout-out to the people who got there a little late. Quite frankly, nothing’s better than hearing “happy birthday” after the fact, cause then it still feels like it’s going on.<br /><br />Anyhow, here it is. And I just took the liberty of abbreviating names, cause I don’t want to step on anyone’s privacy. Although, I mean, it’s not like anyone outside of the following list would read the blog, so I don’t think we have anything to worry about, but for just-in-cases, I chose to<br />abbreviate:<br /><br />a. nunley<br />a. richardson<br />a. wilder<br />b. bailey<br />c. brown<br />c. carden<br />c. hicks<br />c. morelock<br />c. walker<br />d. preston<br />d. walker<br />d. wilcox<br />e. byerley<br />e. gooch<br />e. helton<br />e. wadewitz<br />f. counts<br />g. valentine<br />h. laughlin<br />j. beatty<br />j. hurd<br />j. lane<br />j. murray<br />j. taylor<br />j. glenn walker<br />j. walker<br />j. welch<br />k. bussell<br />k. lyons<br />l. coffey<br />l. mears<br />l. wagner<br />m. byerley #1<br />m. byerley #2<br />m. fox<br />m. hash<br />m. peters<br />m. todd<br />m. walker<br />m. williams<br />o. whitlock<br />p. byerley<br />p. crisp<br />r. hudson<br />r. skoby’s<br />s. barker<br />s. ehrhart<br />t. cleek<br />t. helmer<br />t. roark<br />v. cooper<br />v. Germinario<br />v. wheeler<br />w. gregg<br /><br /><br />Holy smokes, that was hard work. Was it goofy that I alphabetized it? Well, rightfully so. At any rate, I hope I didn’t leave anyone out, cause then I’d just feel like a jerk. And if you didn’t tell me happy birthday, well, that’s alright. Just be sure and try to not to forget important dates ever again. Cause I know you’re super-jealous of those lucky and elite people who now have their names [well, at least their abbreviated names] on the blog. Man, that is a ridiculously huge honor, and I’m glad to be able to give it to people who are truly worthy.<br /><br />I’ve said it before and I’ll say it all night, you people really are completely boss, and I can’t thank you enough.<br /><br />Okay, one more thing:<br /><br />Now that the school year’s over, I thought I’d give you an end-of-the-year assessment:<br /><br />:: Art History ::<br />Basically, Art History is just another way of saying, “Humanities,” which I’ve had. And which I liked, but it was basically a lot of the same stuff. I’m not sure if that’s how it was supposed to go down. Anyhow, I had a really cool teacher who was totally chill. He didn’t waste anyone’s time with being all silly and counting off points for lack of attendance. And it really goes to show how well that whole system works, because people still did show up. Treating students like adults works. It really does.<br /><br />:: Philosophy ::<br />“Philosophy = Beard. Beard = Philosophy.”<br />“Wait, what?” Well, that’s a good-enough quote to signify the overall experience of the class, but once I got into it, gees, I really got into it. Now I find myself buying books on the subject and it couldn’t have come at a more perfect time. I thought, wow, there is actually a huge and beautiful field of study dedicated to what I was already thinkin’. I have never felt more sane about being a little crazy. Plato and a platypus walk into a bar…<br /><br />:: Speech ::<br />Well, I ended up really surprising myself. I was pretty much dreading having to take the class, but it ended up being my favorite. I met some pretty awesome people and it felt really good to know that there are going to be people out there in the world that like what I write, how I write it, and how I say it. That’s genuine vindication right there.<br /><br />:: Marriage & Family ::<br />There are no words. Actually, there are: basically, this class taught me that marriage is a hoax and that, sure, it exists, but only for about six months. And then that little fire you got going will hopelessly go out. Let’s pretend like we didn’t already know that and just keep on keepin’ on. We already knew that love is a battlefield. I could have just tuned-in to a little soft rock and saved myself the agony.<br /><br />:: Anatomy II ::<br />Surprisingly, just as painfully, hopelessly, and depressingly flat-out, full-on awful as Anatomy I.<br /><br />Well, that settles it and finishes it. Another semester gone, but I really did learn a whole lot. I feel immensely enlightened, and I sure do hope the same is true for you.<br /><br />As always, I send you love and appreciation for taking the time to read a little on the blog. And I really do love you for it.<br /><br />Anyhow, in the same fashion as that last power ranger post, in which I promised to be there for you whenever you need me, let’s touch gloves.<br /><br />Also, let’s make even more plans to grow old together. And I feel like it was okay for me to recycle that picture and use it again on the blog. Some things are just instant classics and that’s a thing that they can’t help.<br /><br />Also, go settle into those songs that are new to the blog. Especially that first one. Did you hear that one line? “you came, you saw / you sawed her brains / cut out all the parts that held your stain” man-oh-man, I love you J. Vernon. Really.<br /><br />MOST IMPORTANTLY: I really did get a brand&shiny&new cellular device. It is really beautiful and I am currently obsessed with three things:<br /><br />1. I have a barcode scanner which means that I can scan things and see where I can get them for a cheaper price. But really, who cares about being economical? Scanning things is the total best part.<br /><br />2. I have a really neat application called “Campfire Games.” So, I’ll never be bored again.<br /><br />3. I now have a bitchin compass. Right now, I am settled-in at 202 SW.<br /></span><br /><div><br /><div><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">4. Pandora. Gees.<br /><br />And, speaking of Pandora, you just better get ready cause I’ve already started up a new set of post-its and I am rapidly filling it up with epic tunage. You’re so welcome.<br /><br />Yours,<br />katie beth<br />literal age: 20<br />metaphysical age: 117<br />power ranger age: bitch please. seriously though, touch gloves.</span> </div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo4dGrhFmKmUPUwaMlu1zN4_q1-FV0w4VQMOMRDG3pjQEKLA_L5MvB_MEZFWxclBId8ttP9-chibCzD8Tza-49y7BsYJ8IDZA2YK_QPw0X52yR8dhwP8JFbK3sxKYKdjeebEbE8zjReEE/s1600/power-rangers_turboranger.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 160px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470858253564538146" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo4dGrhFmKmUPUwaMlu1zN4_q1-FV0w4VQMOMRDG3pjQEKLA_L5MvB_MEZFWxclBId8ttP9-chibCzD8Tza-49y7BsYJ8IDZA2YK_QPw0X52yR8dhwP8JFbK3sxKYKdjeebEbE8zjReEE/s200/power-rangers_turboranger.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div></div><br /><div><br /><div><br /><br /></div><br /><div></div></div>katie bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002442138045459234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1216182109447336970.post-14136878967367109772010-04-25T17:04:00.001-04:002011-05-17T23:16:45.959-04:00bring may flowers.<span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Hey, doesn’t that title sound a little like a British person when you say it out-loud? That wasn’t the intention, but it’s working.<br /><br />Well, it sure is nice to see you back here on the blog. You know it usually takes me half a page to give a proper hello, but I’m going to bypass my innate want to tell you over-and-over how much I like you coming on over to read these posts because we have much to talk about:<br /><br />May is quickly approaching, and I don’t feel bad about pulling a jump-ahead over the month of April. Why? Because great things are going to happen in May, people. And that’s what we’re going to discuss:<br /><br />Okay, first and foremost, there are going to be ridiculous amounts of good things happening in the incandescent world of music. To make sure I get them all in, we’re going to make a chronological list of what’s going to happen, along with some other things happening this May of 2010. Most of them are on here so that I’ll do a good job of keeping-up with things:<br /><br />1 May<br />Things to remember:<br />Seriously think about starting to study for final exams.<br /><br />2 May<br />Things to remember:<br />Okay, now really start studying for exams. Really.<br /><br />3 May<br />Events:<br />Birthday Eve<br />Things to remember:<br />Learn everything humanly possible, well, sort-of, about: the history of paintin’ and the good people who did it, the minds who talked and what they said, communicating with the masses, the discouragement of holy matrimony.<br /><br />4 May<br />Albums:<br />Broken Social Scene “Forgiveness Rock Record”<br />New Pornographers “Together”<br />Events:<br />Turn 20, but don’t celebrate too much, on account of: 1. Art History Exam 2. Philosophy Exam 3. Speech Final 4. Marriage & Family (yes, the class is just as the title states) Exam. And THEN, cram stuff about Anatomy for exam the next day. Pretty sure the universe is saying: “happy (insert explicit word that begins with ‘f’ , and tack an ‘ing’ right there on the end) birthday.”<br />Things to remember (this one’s for you, good reader):<br />Send help and bring balloons.<br /><br />5 May<br />Events:<br />Cinco De Mayo<br />Anatomy Final<br />Things to remember:<br />Send more help and bring tacos.<br /><br />[jump-on-ahead to the 8th of May]<br /><br />8 May<br />Events:<br />Betty White hosts SNL with the musical sounds of Jay-Z, and I couldn’t have even imagined a more-perfect match-up.<br /><br />[we’re skipping a few days, but that sure-as-hell ain’t to say that nothing exciting won’t happen between Saturday night and May 11th]<br /><br />11 May<br />Albums:<br />Kaskade “Dynasty”<br />Keane “Night Train”<br />The National “High Violet”<br />Sleigh Bells “Treats”<br />Woods “At Echo Lake”<br /><br />WAIT, did you hear me? I said HIGH VIOLET. That’s right, I know we’ve waited for what’s felt like forever, but we’ll finally be able to hold The National’s new album right here in our hands. AND, they’re already streaming it. And I’d like to take this moment to thank the good people over at the NY Times for doing so. Not only was I super-exited to listen-on-in, but there is also some good reading to be had by all, but I stopped somewhere around the third page. Don’t worry, though. I plan on reading it all tonight. Anyhow, I want you to be able to experience it, so here’s the link. You’re welcome:</span><br /><br /><a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2010/04/25/magazine/25national-t.html?pagewanted=1">http://www.nytimes.com/2010/04/25/magazine/25national-t.html?pagewanted=1</a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">let’s talk about it for a little bit:<br />Alright, that first song is going to blow your mind, but you’ll have to sew it back up, because it’s just gonna keep on happening. All of the songs are completely boss, but I’d just like to state that the song called “England” has got to be a shout-out to Manheim Steamroller. Trust me, you’ll hear it, and you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about. Also, “Lemonworld” is just flat-out great, and so is everything else. I can’t get enough of it. Make a date with that article, click that playlist on the left, and don’t ever stop listening. I am being completely serious. Especially that last song. Gees.<br /><br />[skipping ahead again]<br /><br />18 May<br />Albums:<br />Band of Horses “Infinite Arms”<br />The Black Keys “Brothers”<br />LCD Sound system “This Is Happening”<br /><br />[skip almost ten days, but not quite]<br /><br />27 May<br />Sex and the City Two will be playing in a theater near you. That rhymed, and I am super-excited about it.<br /><br />Okay, those were the important things going to happen in May, among many others that you’ll just have to see about on your own. Also, I have lots o’ friends who have birthdays in this great month, and know that those are definitely on my calendar, because birthdays are super-important. Plus, that means that lots of my people are fellow members of the Taurus segment of Astrology. IDEA! I am totally going to write a post all about Astrology, because it blows my mind. Really. It’s so neat-o.<br /><br />Wait, there’s more: I also just purchased some books. I am so excited to read some things that I actually went out and found on my own. And, as I was standing in line, I was just getting so excited about the four books I had. And about the Bicycle Eco-Friendly deck of cards. And the two bookmarks I bought that look like little Oriental rugs. And the little Yankee Candle thing that hangs around for your car that smells like sunscreen and good times. But then, the girl who was behind the counter ruined it all.<br /><br />[the following is a slightly long story. I can understand if you just want to bypass it, but I feel like it’s important for me to share it with you. If it pleases you to do so, continue on, and know that I will like you even more for doing so]<br /><br />She was so obnoxious. I mean, really. She had quite possibly the highest, most nasal-ish, voice I have ever had the displeasure of listening to. And I felt sorry for her. I thought, “man, that’s got to be rough to have that voice,” but then she really started to talk. And she went through that whole song-and-dance of getting some piece of plastic card with the store name stamped on it, and I just sort of told her that I wasn’t really interested.<br /><br />But she wouldn’t stop. And she was getting smart, and really, she was getting rude. I tried to be funny and alleviate the awkward situation, what with her giving me these dirty looks, and all. I told her that it was a good sales pitch, but she said it obviously wasn’t good enough. And I laughed. But she didn’t. She was honestly mad at me. And she started crunching numbers and telling me, in that awful voice she had, that I could have saved seven dollars. Wow. And then she said that I could I have nearly paid for half of the cost of the card in just one visit.<br /><br />And she asked me if I shopped there often. And I said, “I guess so.” Clearly, that wasn’t good enough for her. She almost asked it as if I was illiterate. I know that sounds like I was reading (haha, pun definitely intended) too far into it, but you just had to hear the way she said it. And then I said that, really, you shouldn’t be all that frequent of a shopper in a bookstore. I mean, at some point, you actually go home and read the damn things.<br /><br />Well, she kept on going. And she just kept on, and it really takes a good lot for me to get honestly ticked off at people, but holy smokes, I was there.<br /><br />And then I said that I would gladly pay her the seven dollars that I could have saved, just to shut her the hell up. No, I didn’t really say that, but I did say it in my head. I’m good at maintaining my composure, and keepin’ it classy. And I guess that’s why I missed her saying that I didn’t have to fill out my check, because she was just going to give it right back. Which, that whole new situation makes me feel uncomfortable. I don’t want it back. That’s why I gave it to you.<br /><br />Anyway, when I kept on filling it out, I can’t remember now exactly what she said, but I can remember that is was awfully snarky, but not in a good way. Snarky can be good. I always enjoy a snarky sense of humor, but she wasn’t being funny. Anyhow, a friend was most certainly not made that day, but I do have the books, and the cards, and the bookmarks, and the scented cardboard. And they are happily home safe with me and glad to be far-far-away from the girl who works behind the cash register. Also, if you should visit the Books-A-Million store, in this fair town of Kingsport, keep an eye out for her. Better yet, keep an ear out, because I was honestly partially deaf for at least twenty minutes.<br /><br />At any rate, I sure am looking forward to reading those books and don’t worry. I’ll be sure to tell you all about them. Also, I put the little cardboard scented thing on the dashboard and I put my cell phone right there with it, and now, my phone has the scent like that of a new Cabbage Patch Kid. Epic win.<br /><br />[okay, story’s over]<br /><br />Also, one more thing. Before we get too pumped about May, let’s talk a little April, just out of common-courtesy to the current month: April does mean showers, but most importantly, it means prom. I’m not going to explain it all here, but just know that I have a video of E. Byerley that is hands-down, one of the most hilarious things you and me both will ever see. I can’t put it on here, by way of my phone, cause it’s too long, but if you should see me out, you just ask. And I will gladly show it to you.<br /><br />Alright, my friends, now that you have so many good things to look forward to, this post has now reached its end. I know that makes you sad, but here’s two more things to look forward to, coming in the new month of May: flowers and new posts. Well, that seemed more exciting before I actually typed it.<br /><br />Anyhow, May is going to be legendary, I am sure of it. So, mark those important events on your dry-erase calendars and let’s get excited.<br /><br />And don’t stop thinkin’ about tomorrow, cause June will soon be here. And guess what that means? That’s right. Come June 1st, Clay Aiken’s new album is gonna drop like a ton of bricks.<br /><br />[this is the part where you laugh]<br /><br />Yours & soon to be a year-older,<br />katie beth<br />PS: I’ll be waiting by t</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidU_QQbFHxegERMWI04gWVBUBSg2A_HbSEMHwwZKCYN4T43XwVxTHUqYXvYerH19YxJcl-NM8wbfh9yS80oasRmzvwTl74T_ygCxTSHCZut4aO_bfwKtugI9xWS6l2pQ-C1FJ3r8hYoNE/s1600/happybirthdaybitch.jpg"><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></a><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">he mailbox for that birthday card you’re gonna send me. Also, I have no idea who that is in the bikini, but I can tell you one thing: I really like his style.</span> <br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil2Ijx2Uru4oyTSlpmzY03CYae2Ef-fx0eBXtrKfBX5ZwKdqyK1H1P4oR8AJbNxfRF1xi4Ae4lP1jsD7P9cgp7pZIHv-8Tqd1t2NddtjtsrMh-vckE90oibHhjI-Nkl6yCkvC8cl1d_So/s1600/beeday.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 129px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464182152803743314" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil2Ijx2Uru4oyTSlpmzY03CYae2Ef-fx0eBXtrKfBX5ZwKdqyK1H1P4oR8AJbNxfRF1xi4Ae4lP1jsD7P9cgp7pZIHv-8Tqd1t2NddtjtsrMh-vckE90oibHhjI-Nkl6yCkvC8cl1d_So/s200/beeday.jpg" /></a></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil2Ijx2Uru4oyTSlpmzY03CYae2Ef-fx0eBXtrKfBX5ZwKdqyK1H1P4oR8AJbNxfRF1xi4Ae4lP1jsD7P9cgp7pZIHv-8Tqd1t2NddtjtsrMh-vckE90oibHhjI-Nkl6yCkvC8cl1d_So/s1600/beeday.jpg"></a></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div>katie bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002442138045459234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1216182109447336970.post-62106415185675201002010-04-19T23:52:00.002-04:002011-05-17T23:17:52.666-04:00wolf vs. caribou.<span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Question: do you ever have a song stuck in your head and then, somewhere around the bridge, it turns into another song? Well, if you’re nodding your head “yes,” then I don’t have to tell you how exciting of a thing it truly is. Anyhow, you know I’m real-into that XMU station. I mean, really. I am in complete and total love with those jams, and the other day, I heard a song called “Odessa” by a groovy little group called Caribou.<br /><br />And I was feeling it, and then I thought WHOA! This is totally “Shewolf!” You know that funky little beat that Shakira did? Well, these two songs are like musical twins. [also, know that I just confidently added Shakira to my little dictionary of words, here on this laptop. Not as exciting as when I confidently added both Barack and Obama, but still pretty exciting nonetheless.]<br /><br />Okay, I can understand how this post may not interest all, but if you’re looking for something to do, look those songs up and notice the nuances to one another. Which, naturally, now the question arises: which came first? The wolf or the caribou?<br /><br />Well, some questions are just too cool to be answered, but it was the wolf. So, who really knows if Caribou is giving a musical-nod to the likes of Shakira, but I like to think that’s exactly what’s going on here. Funky little guitar riffs like that don’t go unnoticed, Shakira. I think that if Caribou were here on this blog, they would thank you for bringing it to them.<br /><br />Alright, let’s go ahead and say it: this post is turning out to be borderline pointless. Really. This is not very important, but I have one more thing to tell you:<br /><br />You know that song “Solider of Love,” by that great one they call Sade? Well, go give “The Stroke” another listen, the one by Billy S. I am telling you Sade ripped that beat off.<br /><br />That may be a bit of a stretch, but they’re both great songs. Especially that “Soldier of Love.” That is some of the best shit I’ve heard in years. And I don’t feel guilty about saying shit in this post. I am pretty confident that no one reads these things anyway.<br /><br />Whoa, now that we’ve talked Billy Squier, [I just added that to the dictionary, too. Gees, I hope I spelled it right] I feel the need to bump “Lonely is the Night.” That’s got to be the best song to play on that gee-tar hero. Wait, I lied. It’s got to be Asia’s classic of “Heat of the Moment.” Speaking of which, that XM Coffee House plays the most boss acoustic version of that song all the time. It is nothing short of magical, people. So much so, it’s now a featured video to the right. Hell yes.<br /><br />Okay, now I’ve lied twice because the best song to play on Guitar Hero is “Sunshine of Your Love.” Why? Cause it’s just so darn creamy.<br /><br />Alright, I have to give three speeches tomorrow, so let’s wind this on down. Now go listen-in to Asia and, sweet Lord, turn-it-up-real-loud. Also, rock steady.<br /><br />Yours and mine,<br />katie beth</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHDl4jwdzphDQAI74UvND5JNlwnTUfbD4jXGkF5TP6hK0z5cKDjLnobv3zeAv8NJ9CMdV_Vyp4OMzK8BZ1v6LzoggYXeiHfjgmqxvy_2bkvkJ0l5X_1ZU7mS7UEfrnUiQYIIrR3S3q_qM/s1600/shewolfshakira.jpg"><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 133px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 134px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462064423647055202" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHDl4jwdzphDQAI74UvND5JNlwnTUfbD4jXGkF5TP6hK0z5cKDjLnobv3zeAv8NJ9CMdV_Vyp4OMzK8BZ1v6LzoggYXeiHfjgmqxvy_2bkvkJ0l5X_1ZU7mS7UEfrnUiQYIIrR3S3q_qM/s200/shewolfshakira.jpg" /></span></a></span><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><br /><div></div>katie bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002442138045459234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1216182109447336970.post-6026741686717587192010-04-16T23:49:00.005-04:002011-05-17T23:18:41.415-04:00this place is weird.<span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Well, friend (I feel like I can call you that, since you’re reading this incredible post), I hope you’ve had a good little time checking out those songs that I told you about in my last post. I sure have. Anyhow, you know I love XM radio, and I have to tell you that I am right now listening to a station called “Watercolors.” It features some of the finest muzak you’ll ever have the total pleasure of listening to. It will undoubtedly put you into a chill and elevator-riding-esque kind of mind state. And that’s a good kind of mind state to be in.<br /><br />Anyway, this day has been weird. It was one of those days where you’re just kind of in a mind-fog. Meaning: just because you woke up this morning, doesn’t necessarily mean that your brain did. I have felt weird all day, and that weirdness has carried into the night, but I gotta tell you something: I am not the only one. I may have felt weird, and I probably am weird a lot of the time, but there are some people out there in the world that are taking it to a whole new level.<br /><br />People are weird. And being weird is never a bad thing, but there are different levels of weird. Let me give you a for-instance: there are the people that are weird, but you respect them for doing their own thing, but then there are the people that are weird, but in a truly bizarre way. Like, the man I saw walking a kid in a stroller through downtown Kingsport, at nine o’clock in the pm. Or, that one lady who talks to her hand, while holding it in a phone-like gesture.<br /><br />And if I’m going to mention those examples, then I have to tell you again about that girl who was holding that strange little animal that sounded like it was oinking at people. And then there’s that one guy who goes around spitting on everything. Plus, there’s that one dude who wakes up in the morning, and apparently, the best he can come up with for his daily plan is doing nothing more than sitting on that bench in front of that bank.<br /><br />And tonight, while being in downtown k-town for food purposes, I could see into this new place that had the title of something to do with cowboys. Anyway, there were actual cowboys in there. I was impressed, but that didn’t seem weird. In fact, that seemed perfectly normal.<br /><br />But, hey, it’s not just the characters of this place that sometimes make it weird: I think it’s awfully weird the way those streets finally got paved, but the sidewalk scene remains in-the-pits. A person in my life had an outright fall as a direct result of the carelessness of sidewalk management. I mean really, we should rise-up and get something done about it. That seems like a viable argument and a good enough reason to rally the troops. Maybe not, but it should be addressed.<br /><br />Anyway, don’t let this post make you think that I don’t hold Kingsport, Tennessee near-and-dear to my heart, cause I really do, especially that downtown region. It’s a pretty alright place to spend some time. And, since we’re talkin downtown k-town, I have to take this opportunity to say one thing: RIP, Kaffe Blue. I miss you like the deserts miss the rains.<br /><br />Seriously, though I would hands down highly recommend Kingsport, here in east-tennessee. We have a completely boss planetarium, over at Bays Mountain. PLUS: we’re getting ready to open that Olive Garden, people.<br /><br />Now, I have never eaten at any Olive Garden, but I hear that, when you go, you’re family. And I’m really gonna hold them to it. I’ll expect to make a reservation and not have to say my name. And don’t worry, it will be okay. They’ll know who I am, just by the sound of my voice. Why? Because we’re family. That’s why.<br /><br />I look forward to it, if I ever even go. Why again? Because I have lived in Kingsport my entire life, and, here in Kingsport, we rep one place and one place only, when it comes to food with noodles. And that place is Giuseppe’s. I’m not sure what their slogan is, because I don’t think they have one, but it’s the sort of place where I wish I really was family. And sometimes, I like to pretend like I am.<br /><br />Alright, this post has definitely taken a turn for the slightly weird, and rightfully so. Anyhow, in concluding style: this place, as with any place, can get down with some weird, but that’s why I love it so much. In fact, I plan on making a top ten list of all the reasons why I love Kingsport. Yeah, I’m gonna do that, so go ahead and start looking forward to it.<br /><br />Anyway, K-TOWN 4 LIFE.<br /><br />Yours,<br />katie beth giuseppe </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">PS- r<span style="font-family:georgia;">aise your hand if you would wear this sw</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">eatshirt, cause I’m sure-as-hell raisin’ mine.</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaTS5KWS1xxouASdtqMXJSJs7d-n74cVlu4HraZaf_cELfZs4Nb0dJlFB4z_PKX9jkkdAiK7Cws84KzuVXlSmkZtMmvSslprMUPDmvvGtGTVCrX46rK0EX-8FPSyBpVrTWY2KdEoaPyFM/s1600/ktownss.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 201px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460949174020570114" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaTS5KWS1xxouASdtqMXJSJs7d-n74cVlu4HraZaf_cELfZs4Nb0dJlFB4z_PKX9jkkdAiK7Cws84KzuVXlSmkZtMmvSslprMUPDmvvGtGTVCrX46rK0EX-8FPSyBpVrTWY2KdEoaPyFM/s200/ktownss.jpg" /></a></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span>katie bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002442138045459234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1216182109447336970.post-79243480539644917942010-04-11T18:17:00.005-04:002011-05-17T23:19:55.478-04:00xmu > coffee house.<span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">How is it honestly going, good reader of the blog? I sure do hope that things in your life are going well. And I really mean it. Your happiness means the world to me. And, speaking of happiness, the camper is back-in-action.
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<br />That’s right. Last night, I once again reconnected with my sleeping bag and let me tell you something: we have really missed each other. It was high time that we got back together.
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<br />Anyhow, what I’ve really come here to tell you is that I am listening-in to a new radio station, by way of those satellites. Though I am still in complete love with the Coffee House, it was time for a change. It started to feel like they were playing the same stuff, and it wasn’t the stuff that I really liked. There was this one song called “Magic Marker” by Monsters of Folk that they kept-on playing for what seemed like every single damn second. Don’t waste any minute of your life looking that song up. So not even worth it.
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<br />But, anyway, it was time for a change. So, I bumped a few stations down and got real-into a station that they call Sirius XMU. The U may or may not stand for University, and I think that’s what it really does stand for, but it should really stand for Ungodly amounts of greatness. This station is receiving the official stamp of totally and completely boss.
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<br />So, I can’t just sit around and enjoy all of these songs that I am currently feelin. I had to share some of them with you. And it’s really exciting to know that I can actually listen to these people outside of the internet and i-tunes. Whoever said that radio is dead needs to turn their ears on over to XMU, because it’s there that they will find a righteous revival.
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<br />Alright, I have listed below eleven songs so that you can get a vibe of what I am currently enjoying on this station, on the radio. That’s right, people. ON THE RADIO. It’s incredible that actual good music is getting a little well-deserved air-time. Suck on that, FM.
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<br />Okay, here they are:
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<br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">11. "Cold War (Nice Clean Fight)" The Morning Benders
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<br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">10. “Quiet Little Voices” We Were Promised Jetpacks
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<br />9. “Shadow People” Dr. Dog
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<br />8. “81” Joanna Newsom
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<br />7. “World Sick” Broken Social Scene
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<br />6. “A Little Lost" Arthur Russell
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<br />5. “Diplomat’s Son” Vampire Weekend
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<br />4. “The High Road” Broken Bells
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<br />3. “What a Drag” Bear Hands
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<br />2. “Go Do” Jónsi
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<br />1. “Bloodbuzz Ohio” The National
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<br />Okay, I hope you liked my list, cause I worked real-hard to bring it to you. Actually, not hardly, but I do keep a stack of orange post-its with me, so I can write down the names of songs that I really like. So far, listening to this station for the past three days has successfully filled-up four of those post-its. And that’s pretty impressive.
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<br />Now go forth and listen to some of the ones that I posted for you over on that video list to your immediate right. I would have put all of them on here, but that list is starting to get obnoxiously long. I’m gonna have to take some of those off of here. It’s getting to be ridiculous. But you can feel free to go look up the others on your own. They would totally deserve your attention.
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<br />Alright, now go get into them. Also, Jónsi is from Iceland. I know, it’s completely awesome.
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<br />Yours through the frequencies,
<br />katie beth
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<br />wait, there's more: did you like the number one song on that list? Well, get excited because that album (High Violet) is gonna drop into your atmosphere on May eleventh. And here's what it's gonna look like:</span><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">
<br /></span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbafOrOsoYrclC1jCPfbbl-X9Sa-6vESGcZJNUm5abCXRJ4fu0EkoDaWdtGZRjtvu9TOCBW9-Vk8HN1y5DoT0sGKJEUYHtOMVhFZMI_xhsUIoITTqi58uBfNvCIP4vKg8MQuWdYL8S4F8/s1600/thenationalhighviolet.jpg"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 173px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 164px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459002479269472194" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbafOrOsoYrclC1jCPfbbl-X9Sa-6vESGcZJNUm5abCXRJ4fu0EkoDaWdtGZRjtvu9TOCBW9-Vk8HN1y5DoT0sGKJEUYHtOMVhFZMI_xhsUIoITTqi58uBfNvCIP4vKg8MQuWdYL8S4F8/s200/thenationalhighviolet.jpg" /></span></a>
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<br />katie bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002442138045459234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1216182109447336970.post-53256234283962583832010-04-07T11:17:00.006-04:002011-05-17T23:31:45.591-04:00you need to hear this.<span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Hell’s bells, friends of the blog. I spoke too soon. Remember that girl we discussed? You know, the one that I don’t really care for, well, she didn’t drop the class. It’s alright, though. It’s nothing I can’t handle. </span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Anyhow, you know I like to set the scene, and right now, I am sitting in a really cold computer lab and there’s only one other person in here. I’m sitting at the computer in the back left corner of the room and he’s sitting in the back right corner of the room. Do you think that makes him a Republican? Perhaps. </span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Anyway, it’s April and I always feel sorry for March. We never saw it coming and we hardly notice when it’s left, but I think I made good use of the month. I hope you did, too. And if you didn’t, well, that’s alright. </span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Okay, I need to tell you about the song that I have now listened to, well, I haven’t been keeping count, but sweet lord, I can’t stop. Do you know the genius that is Justin Vernon? Well, just in case you don’t, he’s great. And you know how you get into those Youtube trances? Well, I do and I just start clicking and listening, especially when I have to sit in this freezing computer lab for what feels like forever. </span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">And it’s a nice escape because there are usually lots of people in here and they all have on blue scrubs. (I’m in the Health Building) And they’re all quite tall. I was in the lobby the other day and it almost felt like I was experiencing a scene in Avatar, but I digress. </span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Back to the musical discussion: </span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Well, I knew that Peter Gabriel of “In Your Eyes” fame had covered “Flume,” by Bon Iver [a boss project by Justin Vernon where he hibernated in a cabin in winter and emerged with quite possibly the best thing you’ll ever hear] Anyhow, I had heard the “Flume” cover and I liked it a lot and then, with the wonder that are hyperlinks, I finally discovered a video of Justin Vernon’s cover of “Come Talk To Me,” by Peter Gabriel. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></div></span><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Isn’t that awesome? It’s like musical-cover-tag, and I’m all for it. I could go on all day about Justin Vernon, but my two hours of work with my daily Academic Work Scholarship are about up and I parked in a two-hour spot, so I best be winding it on down, but just know that J. Vernon is rapidly replacing J. Mayer in my heart where I keep my greatest musical loves. And know that’s a major thing for me. </span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Alright, guys, I have posted the song on here for you. Please listen-on-in and get excited. It’s ridiculous, and in the best-sort-of-way. </span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">I promise I won’t wait super-long to put up another post. I know you get sad when you can’t come on over to the blog and read something great. </span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Also, I have a quick little story to share with you: </span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">The other day, I was walking into class and there’s a bench outside. On it, there sat a girl. And she had on black pumps, really tight jeans, lots o’ make-up, and two lip rings. They were sort of like punk-rock elephant tusks. Anyway, she was just sitting there and she was holding something. I couldn’t tell you if it was a dog or a cat, but I’m pretty sure it oinked. It was bizarre. And she told it to “hush up.” </span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Perhaps there is grand significance in that story, perhaps not, but I felt like it needed to be shared. Okay, now, go and listen to that video and feel free to fall in love. </span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Yours,<br />katie beth</span></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjU-s7pjaGggYRnNE6ziKCTyDxfZVY2tzUjadY08BrKYem1F7S5MKAZJwrO1hFxawqlOVVFPkQw8CnA0LzK7iAsupEWXLzLFSo_5SXqloyH1mIX6lmqFz204s64LWgcDyFiQ8xMHju-8Q/s1600/justinvernon.jpg"><span style="font-size:85%;"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 196px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457416014465694722" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjU-s7pjaGggYRnNE6ziKCTyDxfZVY2tzUjadY08BrKYem1F7S5MKAZJwrO1hFxawqlOVVFPkQw8CnA0LzK7iAsupEWXLzLFSo_5SXqloyH1mIX6lmqFz204s64LWgcDyFiQ8xMHju-8Q/s200/justinvernon.jpg" /></span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY8jGCOnLddlIkPJ7fDTxig6iyH2bB8Mxa6thHwgxbK6BrBS2NMFGhyphenhyphena4GWAjHgrlGMgINrFYyjMTYj9Vp-om89O4THMmArI7f_Q4lMty9TFGSATQmnkVSgkjhTUPWCx2rEuuTVVQNj9g/s1600/bon-iver2.jpg"></a><br /></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div>katie bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002442138045459234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1216182109447336970.post-23631272503721033302010-03-28T15:17:00.005-04:002011-05-17T23:34:14.845-04:00film it, it's historical.<span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">My friends, it has been far too long, and I’ve really missed talking with you. Anyhow, just to set the scene, it is currently 2:43 in the pm, and I was sort of watching a show that was all about the promiscuity of the Egyptians. Don’t worry. It’s on the History Channel, so it’s completely legit. And I find it kind of funny, the way these intelligent-sounding British people are scrutinizing over clues into the intimate-lives of ancient people. It’s pretty weird the way we treat people of those civilizations like everything they did was some huge, thought-out plan to become these great people and pillars of excellence.<br /><br />We always hold them in the highest of regards and never-ever think that they were just people in a different time. I mean really, they couldn’t have been all that different from the current people kickin’ it here on earth today.<br /><br />Which got me to thinking about History. And I think I’m going to keep-on capitalizing it. Yes, I think that works out well.<br /><br />First, I’d like to share with you a story:<br /><br />There’s this girl and she’s in about three of my classes and I don’t want to sound mean, but I feel like I can be real with you and you’ll know that when I say that she sort of ticks me off, you’ll know that I really mean it. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.<br /><br />Anyhow, she was in my Philosophy class, which is confusing in-and-of-itself, because the class is called, “Values and Society,” but our teacher told us that it’s an ethics course, and then she said it was an ethics course from the viewpoint of Philosophy. So, I call it a Philosophy class, and I think that’s a fair-enough title. And, so far, I’ve learned a lot, and I feel like it’s important stuff to be learning, but it’s a little frustrating because we just sort of get introduced to these incredible minds and then we move onto the next. So, naturally, I take it upon myself to come home and really get to know the people that I’m learning about.<br /><br />Anyway, the girl I was talking about [and don’t worry, I’m pretty sure she’ll never make her way to the blog. Mainly because she’s not cool enough] well, she says that she’s real-into History. And she often refers to herself as a “History Nerd,” whatever the hell that is.<br /><br />At any rate, when I heard her say that and then I heard her say that she hated her Philosophy class, I felt a little confused. And I said that “Philosophy is History.” And she said, “not really.”<br /><br />Let me tell you something, girl-that’s-starting-to-really-wear-on-me, History didn’t kick-off in 1776. And, anyway, she never has her facts straight. When she was talking all about Hitler, she was wrong, but I didn’t correct her too much because I didn’t want to seem like a know-it-all. I think that’s a bad thing for a person to be, but don’t refer to yourself as someone who really knows their shit when you don’t.<br /><br />Yes, that’s some of the advice of today’s post, and it’s my hope that it’s advice that you’ll heed. Anyhow, I just really felt like sharing that with you. Also, I think she’s dropped the class. That’s okay. She didn’t really add anything to it anyway, other than raising her hand and asking “is this going to be on the test?” Therefore, ruining a perfectly good discussion. </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><br />And, she was talking a little smack about the English teacher she has and it was the same one I had. She says he’s incompetent because he doesn’t like her style of writing. He gave me As because I’m boss. Really. I wrote a lot of good stuff in that class. I’ll let you read some of my work sometime.<br /><br />Well, guys, I hope that doesn’t put me into a bitter light in your mind, because I’m really going to give her the benefit of the doubt, and maybe we’ll become friends. I doubt it. She calls me “sweetie” a lot and it freaks me out. I don’t mind being called that. No, I really don’t, but it’s weird, the way she says it. And it’s weird because she’s really short. For some reason, that makes it weird. And I’m 5.gay4, so that means she’s pretty short. I guess I just feel like I’m being called “sweetie” by a kid.<br /><br />And I don’t know if she’s older or younger than me. I think we might be the same age, but gees, I feel like I’m light-years ahead of her in age. Really. If that’s how all nineteen year-olds talked and acted, the future of this world would really be screwed. Thankfully, not all of us are like that.<br /><br />Also, on the great topic of History, it’s important for you and me both to remember that the main reason why History is so cool is because everything that just happened is History.<br /><br />And even though it’s only been about a week since we last spoke, here on the blog, I feel the need to update you on my current History.<br /><br />Last weekend, I got to hang out with my cousins, Clayton, Elli, and Ethan. And I really got to hang out with them. And let me tell you something: those kids are pretty-alright. First, we all went to Warriors Path State Park and we immediately took ourselves to that awesome playground they have. Elli and I brought along my deck of cards that I always have with me, for just-in-cases, and headed over to a table to play Speed. And we pretended like we were from different countries and I think people really believed that she was British and that I was from New Zealand. Elli, Ethan, and myself really got to have some fun later on with one of those great balls that they sell at the grocery store and they keep them in those big nets. Anyway, we invented ridiculous amounts of games and we played hardcore. It was great.<br /><br />Second, I made a 95 on my paper about gay marriage. And I was really proud because I think it’s really important and if it meant that gay marriage was going to legalized, I would honestly lay down in front of a moving train, cause it’s that important. I hope you think so, too.<br /><br />Unfortunately, a member of my incredible family was in a really awful car accident later in the week. It was the sort of situation where the people who are hired and trained to immediately rush to the scene were shocked that he was even alive. And what’s really incredible is that he didn’t receive hardly any injuries. I know that I often question it all, and I think that’s okay, but stuff like that makes me really think that there’s got to be something bigger going on here. There just has to be.<br /><br />And, on the lighter side of things, I found my strawberry Chapstick, which had been missing for a little while, and it has taken back its rightful place on my nightstand. Also, I planted, (with the guidance of my mom, who has an eternally green-thumb) some flowers around the tree in the front yard, and they’re starting to really show progress. It’s a pretty neat thing. And I know that you want to hear about Nelson, and he’s still doing really well. Especially now, since we’re starting to get to use the sunroof more and more each day.<br /><br />And, I have been working diligently with my Academic Work Scholarship. Actually, not hardly. I pretty much sit in front of a computer for a good long while, but it’s okay. It gives me a chance to learn new things about the lives of friends, via Facebook, it forces me to study a little more, and it really gives me great lighting for reading my latest editions of The New Yorker. Which I am really into. I get way too excited when a new one comes in the mail. Especially the poetry. You should really look it up and read some of them. They feature some pretty incredible people like my new literary friend W.S. Merwin. He is beyond any sort of tangible greatness.<br /><br />Also, I made a new friend, as a direct result. She has the same scholarship and she’s really quite nice. We discuss future career plans, which is cool, because I’m nineteen and she’s somewhere around forty. I really respect that about her.<br /><br />What’s more, I had a really interesting conversation with my speech teacher and a fellow classmate about the current state of our country. It was nice to hear that not all hope has been lost. I’m glad to know that there are still some people out there who are as fervently optimistic as I am. And I’m not going to get too political here, because I think there’s a family that doesn’t really like me because I did get a little political, which I didn’t mind. I like standing up for the things I support, cause if I didn’t, I would be a phony, and that’s not something I want to be.<br /><br />Also, I got to meet a really cool dog named wall-e. And then, some time was spent with the equally cool people who get to live with him. I feel safe in saying that a good time was had by all.<br /><br />And today, I learned that my new Columbia rain jacket was well-worth the trip to Dick’s and well-worth the money. Mainly because it has this really-secret hood that you can zip up so it looks like a collar. Then, like a mighty rain ninja, you can unzip it and you have a hood and, therefore, ultimate protection from the rain.<br /><br />Last, I just realized how much I say “really” while writing these posts, but I don’t think it’s an overabundance.<br /><br />Well, guys, those may or may not seem like great or impressive accomplishments in a week’s time, but they sure did mean a lot to me. I hope you’ll take the time to assess what’s happened to you in a week. I think you’ll be impressed with your ability to be impressed with big things and little things alike, in your very own History.<br /><br />I sure do hope that all is well with you and your life. And, as always, I sure do appreciate you taking the time to read what I have to say. It really does mean more than you could imagine.<br /><br />And also, I am now going to settle-in and learn about the lost city of Atlantis, which, by the way, was first referenced in the works of Plato, a Philosopher. And it’s on the History Channel. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it, cause that's genuine History.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><br />Yours this week and the next and the rest after that,<br />katie beth<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinQbEl48AGY-hjOQqqWm2GL44BfZkpWTbWT1YA1y6vO5vm0Hrz69wIGVEaqC1aRp4kqZfo-hS7jQU1nlrM3k0N0-HTmqO2rx6mdSl8l2_61frpKqZTpjGamz7acXlGoJtGaghFr4PLxps/s1600/history_channel_logo.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 131px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 136px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453764303215646978" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinQbEl48AGY-hjOQqqWm2GL44BfZkpWTbWT1YA1y6vO5vm0Hrz69wIGVEaqC1aRp4kqZfo-hS7jQU1nlrM3k0N0-HTmqO2rx6mdSl8l2_61frpKqZTpjGamz7acXlGoJtGaghFr4PLxps/s200/history_channel_logo.jpg" /></a></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span>katie bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002442138045459234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1216182109447336970.post-12767018438744854992010-03-20T01:17:00.013-04:002011-05-17T23:35:12.801-04:00working title.<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;">Well, it’s time for the second installment into the works of verse. So, let’s just get right to it. It’s my hope that you find them pretty-alright:
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<br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Sugar Tongues.
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<br />If it does not happen now, it is not going to.
<br />If you do not get up now, you are not going to.
<br />Well, I don’t want to.
<br />I do not want to promise myself away to the
<br />years-years-years-years
<br />Of meaninglessness.
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<br /><em>“What are you going to be? What are you going to be? What are you going to be?”</em>
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<br />I want and need nothing of your counterfeit inquiries. You don’t care and it’s too much to believe that you ever really will. And it’s painfully obvious. So, spare me of them. Spare me of them and pull them out of your mouth and off of your tongue and teeth and throw them in the garbage with the rest of the peels of the things you’ve cut on.
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<br />I only wish to worry the “who.” </span></span>
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<br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;">Now leave me the hell alone.</span>
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<br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">:: </span><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">
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<br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;">The Verse.
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<br />Quote The Verse. Over-and-over-and-over-and-over.
<br />Pretend like you know what you’re saying. Say it again-and-again-and-again.
<br />Promise to believe it. Promise to believe it. Promise to believe it.
<br />I can’t.
<br /><strong>But it will set you free! The Gospel will hang! It will love! It will endure!</strong>
<br />I can’t.
<br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>He knows you! He knows me!
<br /></strong>I can’t.
<br /><strong>You must. You must. You must.</strong>
<br />I should.
<br /><strong>You should. You should. You should.</strong>
<br />I did.
<br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Why ever would you now denounce the He?
<br /></strong>I didn’t. You did.
<br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Damn you for such falsity! You heathen, you child, you fool! Believe it now!
<br /></strong>I used to. I want to again. In fact, I do. Yes, I do, but what we believe, it is not the same. My He is a Love. It is a version of the He that you cannot possibly understand. I wish you could roll away your stone. I wish you could come out of your Cave. I wish you could lay down that leather-bound weapon you keep in your back-pocket.
<br /><strong>I have no weapon!</strong> </span><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>(he thuds on the Gospel)
<br /></em>That is your weapon. That Book is nothing more than a means for you to fight. It is not your Faith. It is not your Love. It is your firearm, and it tickles and delights you inside to pull the trigger. Does it make you feel important? Does it make you feel Nearer-My-God-To-Thee?
<br /><strong>You denounce in this House-Of-The-Lord!</strong>
<br />I have not denounced. We both know I am speaking The Truth. The Love. The Love. The Love. That is all there is. That is all He would have wanted.
<br /><em>(he nods his head)</em>
<br />So, tell me, Brother, does it make you feel safe?
<br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Yes.
<br /></strong>Me, too.
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<br />::
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<br />Rime.
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<br />Cold was the War. And your heart was already frozen-like-ice.
<br />Yes, the ice already hung in your chamber and turned itself into a winding shaft and stabbed you.
<br />And it stabbed you over-and-over.
<br />Every time you took a deep breath.
<br />Every time you bent over to tie-your-laces.
<br />Every time you rolled over in your sleep.
<br />It stabbed you.
<br />And you knew it.
<br />
<br />And you asked for someone to melt it.
<br />Yes, we tried to melt the icicle, born of your youth, born of the War, born of the time.
<br />We were too late.
<br />The Sun was going down and the Winter was coming up around The Bend.
<br />
<br />But why did you go so long?
<br />Why didn’t you try and melt it sooner?
<br />
<br />We would never know, but we asked it over and over as we laid down our shovels,
<br />And the rain dripped itself into the fresh soil over his grave.
<br />And we stood there, staring, asking, wondering.
<br />
<br />And the children in the field, somewhere over The Bend,
<br />Started laughing and dancing as the rain turned to snow.
<br />
<br />We gathered them, took them into the houses and watched through the thick glass of our windows as the snow turned into ice.
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<br />The ground froze that night. And we couldn’t plant a crop. We couldn’t get our shovels to do their work.
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<br />And the icicles hung around our awnings. And they threatened to stab as the sun rose again and melted them like honey dripping through the curves of the comb. And they dropped. And they dropped loud. And they shattered.
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<br />We had never seen a Winter so cold.
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<br />::
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<br />Flora’s Wind-Up.
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<br />The Wind started whipping, whooping, hurling itself into the moon.
<br />The Sirens started blaring, blurring our judgement.
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<br />They grabbed their bags and ran into the ground.
<br />But we weren’t prepared,
<br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>So we blocked-it-all-out.
<br />And we started to dance.
<br />And we held each other,</em>
<br />The night the world was coming to an end.
<br />
<br />And they shouted at us from their burrows,
<br />But we weren’t listening,
<br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>So we kept-on holding one another.
<br />And we talked about the first time we met, and how it rained.
<br />And we talked about the Summer,
<br /></em>The night the world was coming to an end.
<br />
<br />They gave up on us. They called us fools.
<br />So, we called out to the Wind and we told him to give up.
<br />And we called out to the Sirens and we told all of them to shut-the-hell-up.
<br />
<br />And they both listened.
<br />The wind died down.
<br />The sirens stopped.
<br />
<br />They came out of their burrows and joined in the dance,
<br />The night the world was coming to an end.
<br />
<br />And we all met up around the fire the next night and we danced again.
<br />And that’s all we did for the rest of our nights and we-tried-our-best to forget
<br />
<br />The night the world was coming to an end.</span></div>
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<br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;">:: </span></span>
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<br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Lunar + Solar.
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<br />Night pushes up Day.
<br />He lifts Her into our reality and He shrouds Her from the darkness on the other-side-of-the-world.
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<br />Day pulls down Night.
<br />And She tells Him to wait for Her on the other-side-of-the-world.
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<br />And that’s all they do. They push-and-pull-and-push-and-pull.
<br />Sweetly dancing up-and-down.
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<br />And they go on-and-on playing hide-and-seek with each other from the other-side-of-the-world.</span></div>
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<br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">::
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<br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Veracity: DCT.
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<br />If the Forms are God,
<br />And the Concepts are Wisdom,
<br />And the Things are Knowledge,
<br />And the Images are Sensation,
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<br />And if I exist only because my parents existed,
<br />And back-back-back into the eons,
<br />They all existed,
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<br />And if Anselm says, “That Than Which Nothing Greater Can Be Thought,”
<br />Well, I can define things, too.
<br />Is that The Proof?
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<br />And if Aquinas says, “MOTION!”
<br />And if I have The Potential to Move,
<br />Well, who will start The Movement?
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<br />And whose digit was it that first flicked that first domino with great fervor and hope...
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<br />And that effect led it down-down-down and we all fell,
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<br />Well, was it The-Hand-of-God?
<br />Was there only Void before?
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<br />And if I am a Necessary Being,
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<br /><em>But there was a time when I was not necessary, a</em></span></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>nd there will come a time when I will no longer be necessary to anyone or to anyone’s memory.
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<br />Oh, I do need Order. I need a More-Intelligent-Being to give me direction to move me towards My End.
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<br />Yes, I need it like the way the archer needs to direct his arrow to the bull’s-eye.
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<br />And if He only requires, or, rather, commands the Morally Right Actions, then I suppose I’ll just sit-and-wait.
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<br />I hate to question The Verse. I hate it. And I hate to question The Minds. I hate it.
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<br />Lead me to The Truth and I will follow you with my whole life,
<br />Because it all makes me pretty tired.</span></span></div>
<br /><p><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">::</span></p><span style="font-family:georgia;">
<br /><p><span style="font-size:85%;">I sure do hope that you liked this post and my second attempt at saying something important through literary works of verse. Because, it is important for you to remember that this is important stuff we’re doing here.
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<br />Yours,
<br />katie be</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDQnAtV8N92BnyaJX0GEAbgVeV7UmJey64A065isGCmbgE2Z8JAYUYKMFRNi15pa4OksINubZ9h-ou1gj_OEImlKsagG6RlZD7rX97HxXCtFV2kiqA4Ez9q8vzU-r6kmQma68YKdTNn3g/s1600-h/Alan+Blaustein+print.jpg"></a><span style="font-size:85%;">th</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidCQ7ocqqgS03_bQWv3-A1U5E6VQgvgzwKPqGPDRZSiGmCnQ4-dBH8S8lf5je_4KrlJi9URd63IPnoIsjV51SYX3IX3z79veAFXtSX2_xXN_Glhrj-aQiKRGIV_VwJTHcKEG5ZqKdg04Y/s1600-h/mashagiftballoons.jpg"></a></p>
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<br />katie bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002442138045459234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1216182109447336970.post-27877786493086396922010-03-16T23:07:00.003-04:002011-05-17T23:36:53.383-04:00saint patty told me so.<span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">hey there, friends. let me tell you something: I have been waiting for what’s felt like an eternity to bring this post to you. When the blog was just getting up and going, I sat down at my laptop and, as the cursor flashed, all I wanted to do was write about Saint Patty’s Day. I didn’t realize how far away it was. Really, it’s only been about a month since I wrote this, but gees, it’s felt like forever. And it’s finally here and you’re finally getting to read it. So, here goes. Settle in and get excited.
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<br />I hope that intro doesn’t leave you feeling under-whelmed once you’re done reading. I don’t think it will:
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<br />In case you didn’t know it already, March 17th is, in fact, today, and it is, in fact, Saint Patrick’s Day (this was actually posted on Saint Patty's Eve, but let's just pretend like it wasn't) In honor o’ this green stitch in time, I’ve decided to give you a top ten list o’ the things I’d like for you to try and get done sometime between now and midnight on this (or tomorrow), the day o’ the Irish.
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<br />10. watch “The Boondock Saints.” my brother brought that movie home one day and watched it while I was supposed to be writing a paper. that paper never got written. Really, you could watch it anytime because those guys are sorta like 7-Eleven: they’re not always doing business, but they’re always open.
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<br />9. pinch the hell out o’ people who don’t wear green.
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<br />8. SLAP the hell out o’ people who don’t wear green and tell you that you can’t pinch them because their eyes are green. THAT DOESN’T COUNT.
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<br />7. eat three bowls o’ Lucky Charms. Actually, it would be a-okay to do that everyday. But, since this is a special holiday, I give you permission to only eat the marshmallows. And really, we both know that’s the only reason why you’d eat that cereal anyway.
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<br />6. I don’t care if it’s morning, noon, or night. Greet everyone, in your best Irish accent, with the popular phrase, “top o’ the mornin’ to ya.”
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<br />5. this is a holiday, and therefore, it’s no time for political-correctness. if you should see a little person, point while shouting out “LEPRECHAUN!,” and then ask to see their pot o’ gold. And don’t be surprised if they get a little ticked-off. Pots o’ gold aren’t worth that much after taxes.
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<br />4. feel free to not wear any green clothing. instead, go out and buy a green sharpie and/or nail polish and color the nail o’ you middle finger. then, when someone comes up to pinch you, well, you’ll know what to do. Confused? FLIP ‘EM A BIRD! And tell them that it’s compliments o’ the Irish.
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<br />3. DO NOT use the word “of.” [you’ll notice that it’s been omitted from this post. well, hopefully] Instead, replace all occurrences in both your conversations and your notes in class, or notes on life with: o’. like, “The Allegory O’ the Divided Line,” or “The Theory O’ Relativity.” also, know that any last name can become instantly-Irish with this same idea. Let me give you a for-instance: katie beth o’byerley or Oprah O’winfrey. Hm, that one may be a little hard to believe.
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<br />2. enjoy an Irish coffee. later on, figure out why it’s an Irish coffee.
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<br />1. go out and buy any album by “Celtic Woman.” and then, listen the hell out o’ it. Cause let me tell you something: when that stuff gets played on PBS, I literally drop EVERYTHING to listen-in. Strangely, I’ve never understood the singular name for a group with many members. I guess that’s just the way-o’-the-Irish. And, therefore, it’s something that I’m not going to question.
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<br />Alright, go ahead and print this epically life-changing list off and tack it to your wall and be sure to get these things done: they’re o’ great importance. And I hope that you liked this list as much as I did. In fact, I’d say it’s some o’ my best work. Oh, there’s one more: stand up right now and do a river dance.
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<br />[this is where I have inserted some time for you to click that video that I posted somewhere over on that line-up o‘ videos. With the wonder that is Youtube, I found this cool guy named Conor Macarthy and he's flat-out, full-on gettin' Irish on that bass. The song is called "Maid at the Well," and man, it makes for some great river dancin’ and it’s super-slick. PLUS this song is the perfect length o' time that we need for you to do that dance. PLUS-EVEN-MORE, I think it really sets the mood for this holiday. What the hell more could you possibly want? So, click it now and get your Irish on]
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<br />…are you done? man, that was awesome. you should really consider taking that talent all the way to the Festival O’ Nations, up there at Dollywood.
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<br />Really, guys, in all seriousness: Irish people are completely boss. The other day, I once again found myself tuning into that legend o’ a channel the Food Network. It’s pretty much my favorite place to hang out. Anyhow, it was a special show called “Tasting Ireland,” and Bobby Flay was the host. Did you miss it? Well, don’t worry: the blog is here for you when you don’t get to witness revolutionary television. And let me tell you something: I would do a lot o’ things to see that totally awesome grass in person. It is so green. I mean really. It’s pretty incredible.
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<br />[SIDENOTE: the other day, there was a really cool seminar at the Kingsport Public Library and it was all about composting. Anyhow, this relates to this post because Ireland has really green grass (which I just referenced) and I learned why Kentucky’s grass is so green. It’s because that state is sitting on a big stretch of magnesium. Which, apparently, makes for green grass. I wonder if that’s the case in Ireland. Anyhow, I guess you could say that Kentucky is the Ireland o’ America. Yes, I think it would be safe to say that. And, probably, in more-ways-than-one]
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<br />Also, I learned so many new things about Ireland, thanks to the wonder that is Bobby Flay. I won’t tell you all that I learned here, because we would be talking for a while, and you have to go out and get to work on that list up there, but if you want to know all that I have to tell, we should meet up later, because you’re really good people and I really like your style.
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<br />Anyway, I did learn the six steps to properly serving a pint o’ Guinness. That’s a talent that you should always keep in your back pocket, for just-in-cases. Again, I’m not going to recite them here, but just know that I will teach you anytime you want to learn. Also, did you know that there are like, ten thousand pubs in Ireland? That’s so noble, considering that the country is practically the same size as West Virginia. I think it’s safe to say that Ireland would be more fun than West Virginia because Irish people really know how to have a good time. I don’t know about West Virginia people, but again, I’d say Ireland beats West Virginia any day.
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<br />And, speaking of those pubs: Bobby Flay told how the pubs in Ireland were pretty much a writer’s direct line to getting published. So, basically, just when you thought that W.B. Yeats couldn’t get any cooler, you find out that he was totally chill and spent lots o’ time hanging with, undoubtedly, equally cool people just havin’ a pint. And here’s what else: you can sign up to take a tour called the Pub Crawl where your fearless Irish guide tells you all about the poets, journalists, etc. that spent their time at that particular pub, back-in-the-day. Wouldn’t that be awesome? I think so, too. Let’s pack our bags, set out for Ireland, and embark on what promises to be the best tour o’ our lives.
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<br />And I also now know at least five new ways o’ fixing potatoes. Wow. I mean, it truly is groundbreaking the way you can learn so much in just an hour o'</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"> television. Also, to the good people over at Food Network: how does one become a “Food Historian,” and where can I sign up?
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<br />Alright, my friends. It’s been hard scanning back over this just to make sure that I only used “o’” when referencing that forbidden word. Anyhow, go out and get-to-it on that list and spread your new knowledge about Ireland. Because, even if you’re not cool like me and have some sort o’ ancestry that you can trace back to Ireland, it’s okay. Because you have the blog, and here at the blog, we’re committed to making everyone feel included in all holidays. So, check those things off that list and you, too will be borderline-Irish. Congratulations.
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<br />And remember: if you really should see a leprechaun, try not to stare or point-and-laugh. Because, really, I imagine it’s pretty hard to hold your whiskey when you’re built like a four-year old and, as a direct result, they might get a little temperamental. Wait, do leprechauns drink? Well, they sure would have a good reason to. Also, my Mumford & Sons CD finally arrived and I'm super into it, so I posted a new video, just for your enjoyment and I think it really follows suit with the theme o' this post. (shout-out to J. Hurd for recommending the song).
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<br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Alright, guys. It's been real, but this post is now over, but don't shed a tear. I'll be back soon, I promise. Happy Saint Patrick's Day. And I hope this post did, in fact, change your life. Now go get your Irish on.</span>
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<br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;">Yours this day and forever more,
<br />katie beth</span>
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<br />katie bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002442138045459234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1216182109447336970.post-25684645683874306572010-03-12T18:17:00.002-05:002011-05-17T23:39:55.471-04:00biding time.<span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Readers: how the hell are you? I hope your answer to that question is something of a positive. I really hope you're not having a bad day, but if you are, I sure do hope that the blog will brighten it, if only for a moment. Also, know that I am writing this post merely as a way to distract myself from what’s certain to follow. Coming up, you better get beyond pumped because I have the most incredible post saved on this here laptop about Saint Patty’s Day. It really is going to change your life. And it will be a change for the greener, the Irish, and the better. I feel safe in saying that you’re going to love it.
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<br />But I can’t put it on here yet. I really thought about doing it because The Office was already celebrating over on NBC last night. Did you see it? Andy had on a kilt. It was great. Scottish, but great. but I just can’t post it yet. It’s best if I can hold out until March 17th. Gees, that feels like it’s going to be light-years away, but I hope we can both hold on. I mean really. It’s that good.
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<br />So, what can we talk about to keep our minds off of what promises to be the most amazing post yet?
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<br />*know that I sat here for a while and couldn’t come up with anything good*
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<br />Here’s what we’re gonna do: I’m going to give a quick update on the past posts. I can see how you may want to immediately leave the blog. I mean, that doesn’t sound like it’s going to be super-interesting, but I don’t have that option. I have to keep on typing because it’s necessary and because I can’t stop thinking about that post that’s going to be all about the Irish.
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<br />So, let’s start back at the beginning. Have you read all of the posts, thus far? I hope you’re nodding your head in a “yes” motion. That first post about Valentine’s Day “Valentine: Revisited” was, really, a stupid title. You can’t revisit something that you’ve never visited. So, that was a negative. Sorry about that.
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<br />Anyhow, Valentine’s Day 2010 ended up being really awesome. My dad had to go to Atlanta (that wasn’t awesome) and it was the first time that he hadn’t spent that holiday with my mom in something ridiculous, like, since he was sixteen. So, I decided that the rest of the family was going out and my dad thought that was a good idea.
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<br />I called up my grandparents, whom I call “the kids,” and we all, in fact, went out. Even my brother, who wouldn’t have had any trouble getting a girl to go out with him on that holiday. He usually has a legion of admirers, but if you’re one of those girls and you come after my brother with googly-eyes. Well, remember that post with the Power Rangers picture on it? I really will do what I said because he is one of my people, just like you (the person currently reading)
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<br />Anyway, it takes a lot for me to approve one of those lasses (sorry, I‘m still in Irish-mode), cause we’re tight. And if I’m going to give up my time hangin’ with my broski to some girl, she had better prove to be nothing short of what my expectations are.
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<br />Also, if you’re a guy, I’ll share with you the advice that I often give my brother: never trust a girl who has a tan year-round. (upon reading that back, it sounds slightly racist. That’s not how I meant it. I’m just talking tanning beds, here. Those make for sketchy people)
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<br />At any rate, we went out and it was fun. Except for this one guy who was sitting at a table and he had a date. Anyhow, she left before that sweet tea ever even hit the table. Yeah. She totally ditched him. It was so uncalled for. If you’re that girl, and you’re reading this, I have one message for you: well, I can’t put it in here, because it isn’t nice. I don’t want you to think that I’m a mean person.
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<br />Moving on. Okay, let’s make this short-and-sweet. The following is a follow-up on past posts. Of course, they’re in order:</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;">
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<br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;">*Yes, times is still hard. Although, I think the blog really must be catching on because I’ve noticed a slight 23% increase in the niceness of the common stranger.
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<br />*It’s not cold anymore, but I still want to meet up and build that campfire. I know where we can get some gravel. Also, my Les Miserables sweatshirt has been found. Tony the klepto-ghost is still on-the-loose. Send help and bring marshmallows.
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<br />*I still don’t like Taylor Swift at all. However, that picture of Kermit just keeps getting better and better. And I’m waiting for one of you to cover that song with my new lyrics. I have a feeling we’ll be famous together.
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<br />*I’m not going to Bonnaroo, but man, that line-up is still super-impressive. I’m thinking about putting up the tent or popping up the camper in the backyard and bumpin’ some of the tunes that those attending the actual festival will get to hear. Let me know if you want to make a reservation. It will be completely free if you bring an instrument and/or sleeping bag. And rightfully so.
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<br />*My i-pod shuffle was never found. My dad was nice enough to lend me his. It basically has the same stuff on it. I thought the other day about buying a Nano. I decided that I don’t need it. Instead, I bought a TMNT t-shirt. I think that was the smarter purchase.
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<br />*I don’t have the strength to talk about those poems.
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<br />*That “Johnson City Honda, Johnson City” commercial is still annoying and “that’s what she said” has never sounded better.
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<br />*I read the first ten pages of “Common Sense” by Glenn Beck. Then, I threw up. No, really, it wasn’t that bad, but I got a little freaked out. My dad wants to read it. He also records Glenn Beck’s show everyday at five. On Fox News. Again, send help, but this time, bring sanity.
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<br />*Again: those poems were a product of a moment of a bizarre place. But I kind of liked being there. I hope you did, too. I’m not going to disclose any more information on those things.
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<br />*WHOA. I have thought of so many songs that should have been on that Top 50 List, but I knew that was going to happen. Also, John Clayton Mayer and I are still pretty tight. Even if he does act like a jerk on the news-circuit because I’m a loyal fan. Really. I’m super-loyal.
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<br />*Avatar still blows my mind. I still haven’t gotten over it. At all. I love talking about it. I hope you do, too. Also, Hurt Locker WAS NOT better. I know at least one person who thinks that it was, but he was just talkin’ crazy. I mean, he couldn’t have really meant it. Actually, I think he did, but I’m not going to hold it against him. And if you agree with that crazy logic, well I won’t hold it against it you either. But just know that I’m going to have my own awards show and Avatar is literally going to win EVERYTHING. Because that’s how it should be.
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<br />*Really, I will be there the second you need me. Cause we’re tight like that.
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<br />*Nelson is still doing well. I really did buy a TMNT t-shirt. Nelson’s never been more proud of me. Also, no update on J. Murray's car, Barack Obama, but Nelson and I sent him a fruit-basket, for just-in-cases.
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<br />Well, that catches you up on things. Hope all is well. Let’s make plans to meet back here on March 17th for that awesome post that is currently ready and waitin'. I've said it before, and I'll say it all night: you’re going to love it. Feel free to wear green between now and then. I know I will.
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<br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Seriously, as an update on things in my life that are really-really important, at least in the traditional sense, I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up, but man, that day is quickly approaching. And know that I am somewhere having a panic attack. Also, as far as Kingsport, TN goes, what in the hell are they doing to those roads? I mean really. It's kind of a cry for help out there. "Grooved Pavement?" hell's bells, more like: "Good Luck Making It Out Alive." </span>
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<br /></span></span><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Yours,
<br />katie beth</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcU8z67K4pXaYsV28GVzRYGB00Ih07VFqPGPPJv2uYn_9e-UuEpZi8-cZPRoZdzj5-yseQ48JjZpOe9NzfShdAqk_1PYH-Wl4HhUEFXEjlB9utqDjaiNiYMhztsj7jtojE3KTyN8B8_4A/s1600-h/touchgloves.jpg"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 158px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447883139010464130" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcU8z67K4pXaYsV28GVzRYGB00Ih07VFqPGPPJv2uYn_9e-UuEpZi8-cZPRoZdzj5-yseQ48JjZpOe9NzfShdAqk_1PYH-Wl4HhUEFXEjlB9utqDjaiNiYMhztsj7jtojE3KTyN8B8_4A/s200/touchgloves.jpg" /></span></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;">
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<br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;">...let's touch gloves again. you know, for old time's sake.</span></span></span>
<br />katie bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002442138045459234noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1216182109447336970.post-83498993850264645072010-03-10T12:17:00.004-05:002011-05-17T23:41:46.951-04:00the secret wish of a saab.<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;">Man, this blog is on a roll*sidenote: alright, sometimes I read back over these while I listen to some of those videos that I have posted and I saw where I had said "man, this blog is on a 'role.' " isn't that just the saddest? Homophones and I have a love/hate relationship. Actually, it's mostly hate. I hope there aren't any more major grammatical errors. I don't want to lose my credibility, but if there are and you notice, just try and overlook them.</span>
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<br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Anyhow,</span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"> we’re wearin’ it out and tearin’ it up. It’s bloggy-goodness. And it’s all for your entertainment. But, this one isn’t for entertainment, per se. This is a serious topic: the other day, there was a bit of a scare. Upon leaving the appropriately named Food City Gas N’ Go, my car had a serious leak. And I had just put forty dollars in it. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: times is hard.
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<br />It may be asking too much, but it seems like they could have offered some sort of refund. Don't you agree? Or that lady behind the counter could have at least offered a solo cup so I could try and catch some of it. Cause I would have. Gas for your auto-mo-bile is worth more than its weight in gold, whatever that means.</span> </span>
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<br /><p></p><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Anyhow, it’s important that I go ahead and tell you that my car is a green Saab. I come from a long-line of Saab lovers. It’s in my genetic code to appreciate Saabs for all that they are and trust me, I do. My Saab’s name is Nelson Mandela. I decided that the car really looked like a “Nelson,” and so, naturally, the line of succession towards coming up with a last name led me right-straight to “Mandela.”
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<br />And what better way to honor the guy? I feel like if Nelson really were a person, he would be a lot like Nelson Mandela and someday Morgan Freeman would play him in a movie. Anyway, when you lose something, even if it is only for a day, you really do start to realize how much you love it.
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<br />And so, there I was, sitting around and I could see Nelson out of practically every window in my house. And he looked so helpless. And that damn gas just kept on leaking. And I started thinking about that one Saturday a few weekends ago when it was really nice and warm here in east-tennessee…
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<br />I decided that I would go out in the front yard and wash the car. It was pretty fun and we really got to know each other on an even deeper level because once I was done, I opened up the door of the passenger’s side, got in, laid back the seat, and took a nap. Cause, really, what’s the point of having your own car if you can’t go out in your driveway and take a nap in it?
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<br />Anyhow, I was out there for a while and I had a dream:
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<br /><p><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">*FIRST: it is requested that you click that video somewhere on here of the song "The Sound of Silence," to get the full effect of what is about to follow. You'll probably have to scroll down for it. And know that this song should have been on that Top 50 List. Was it on there? I don't think it was and I don't think I have the strength to go back and look. Reading some of these things will make you go cross-eyed. Sorry about that.</span></p>
<br /><p><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Anyway, has it loaded yet? I'm stretching for time because you need to wait until it starts playing. Trust me. It's worth it. It really gives the effect of bringing you into the importance of this story. </span></p>
<br /><p><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">So, I'll go somewhere else while we're waiting for you to get through those people cheering. I also posted a new video at the top of the list of really good songs. It's the one called "Lenny/Man on the Side" and it really is the greatest thing by John Clayton Mayer. I know I said it was "Hummingbird," but this song is where we really fell in love. And I can tell you the background story behind that guitar he's playing. I sure do hope that you would want to hear it. Anyway, when you're done reading this post, feel free to stick around and listen to that song, but not yet. We have to finish this first:</span></p>
<br /><p><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Okay, now you can keep on reading about the dream I had in the driveway:</span></p><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Nelson was real. And he was, in fact, talking to me. Do you know what he said? He told me that if he could do it all over again, he would want to come back as one thing and that one thing would be very green, just like him.
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<br />He said he wanted to come back as a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle. Yes, that’s exactly what he said. And my dreams are often accompanied by mood music: in this dream, it was "The Sound of Silence" by Paul & Art. I can call them that because we're on a first-name-basis. And it was so apropos. And we just sat there, looking at each other. I felt like I was witnessing the most incredible monologue of my life. Macbeth: you and your tale of tragedy only pales in comparison.
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<br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Then, I woke up.
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<br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">So, naturally, when Nelson wasn’t feeling too well the other day, that’s all I could think about. Nelson and his wish of becoming a lean-green-fighting-machine (should there have been a "mean" in that? I can't remember)and I thought about that song. And that song really set the tone and the tone was heavy...
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<br /><p><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">But don't worry because it's okay now. Thankfully, my dad fixed the car. And you should know that Nelson is well, he is here with me. His problems have indeed been fixed. And now I feel like he really looks like himself again. And really, he looks a lot like what he wanted to in my dream. I guess that means that his wish is kind of coming true. Maybe I'll buy him a bandanna.
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<br />Yes, my mind is a bizarre place to be, but it’s in the best-sort-of-way. That's what I think, anyhow.
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<br />I hope that, if you have a car, you really take the time to get to know it. Does that sound slightly crazy? Well, I don't care. I feel like you now know enough about me to understand where I'm coming from because they can really change your life and they’re better for more than just getting you from point A to point B. And if you don’t have one yet, I hope you'll really consider putting a Saab in your life. There’s not too many that could even compare. </span></p>
<br /><p><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">PLUS, they make for awesome dreams.
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<br />So, here’s to Nelson. Let’s consider this his welcome back party. He really likes cool man Miles, just like me. That’s why we’re so tight. So, once that one by S+G is over, or when ever you grow tired of it, be it the song or those weird faces that Art has been making this whole time, feel free to go ahead and bump that last video over there by Miles Davis, in honor of Nelson. And turn-it-up-real-loud. </span></p>
<br /><p><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">And like I said before, my mind is, in fact, a truly bizarre place to come and visit, but I sure do hope that you like hearing what it has to say. </span></p>
<br /><p><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">In conclusion, I imagine that I'll fall asleep tonight and I'll dream again. And Nelson will tell me how much he appreciates his story and his wish being told. </span></p>
<br /><p><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Also, if your name is J. Murray and you're reading this, I hope your car, whose name is Barack Obama, doesn't have cancer. I don't think they've developed chemo therapy for automobiles yet. But, hey. With the way things are going over at Apple, anything is possible. i-pad? seriously. who needs that?</span></p>
<br /><p><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">Yours,
<br />katie beth
<br />…& nelson (honorary member of the TMNT)</span><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;">
<br /></span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW9LocgCeNTbUMGlLDi22pJXmfuprhAznvR4bLRrH6mQVWaM4IktENNcA-gXzYIj_qhToqTWBGUQEBsmu7wjkcmwZScvBw4hsuYs-s8BcsQftZZQJni6heRQUpBerILUSXmVD1ry6uAtQ/s1600-h/ninja_turtles.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 193px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 196px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446858840892707314" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW9LocgCeNTbUMGlLDi22pJXmfuprhAznvR4bLRrH6mQVWaM4IktENNcA-gXzYIj_qhToqTWBGUQEBsmu7wjkcmwZScvBw4hsuYs-s8BcsQftZZQJni6heRQUpBerILUSXmVD1ry6uAtQ/s200/ninja_turtles.jpg" /></a>
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<br />katie bethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06002442138045459234noreply@blogger.com