How Many Times Do You Get to Post on Leap Day?

Once every four years, I suppose.

K.

Well, That Was Different

While I should be doing other things, I thought I would stop by and share some of the interesting happenings of the week. Normally, I try not to be so absent, but it was unavoidable. So here's a short catch up.

• You already heard about my A. Nothing makes your day like an A. They need to bottle it and sell it as an anti-depressant.

• I had an interview with an initiate yesterday that turned into a two-hour religious discussion. The kid was a Born Again and, by definition, they like to talk about their experiences in religion. I, by definition, like to listen. So I leaned my chin on my knuckles and looked pensive for a good long time. It's not that I wasn't paying attention-- it's just that I had heard it all before. I then shared my philosophy-- that I wasn't arrogant enough to say that there is no G-d (though I kept that I wasn't arrogant enough to say that there definitely was, either. Some things you just keep to yourself) and that, frankly, I have no idea about anything. And I'm happy with that. The initiate then asked me a startling question:

"But aren't you afraid?"

"Afraid of what?"

"Of what happens after you die."

That pulled me up short. I guess I had never been asked that. I know that I've never
been asked that. So I was honest. I told him that no, I was not afraid. What I didn't tell him was that he just said a lot about himself in that single question. He had just told me that, while he had been expounding the joys of G-d and Christ, he believed because he was afraid. And that made me sad.

For the record, I used to be afraid when I was younger. But I now figure that everyone I love will be wherever I am, be that Hell, blackness, or something I can't comprehend. Nobody in my life that I absolutely couldn't live without believe the same thing as this initiate, so it seems to me that whatever happens couldn't be that bad.

• In Tai Chi class, my instructor brought up "filling the well," which immediately brought to mind Chelsea Talks Smack's wonderful post about her playdate with herself. Some things are just meant to be, I suppose. Of course, my friend ruined the moment by saying that having our own playdate equaled the phrase "playing with ourselves." Real cute.

• Finally, my father was dropping a van-load of Israelis off at the Philly airport tonight and decided to drop in on me at our campus Starbucks. I knew that he was coming, but I was looking in the totally wrong direction, which meant I made that awkward squealing noise when he surprised me. Being the awesome dad that he is, he bought everyone I was with overpriced coffee drinks. I love him.

Yeah, that was my week.

K.

An A for Awesome

I had a conference with my seminar professor today to discuss my first paper and was pleasantly surprised. Turns out that I got a 94%. Yay for me.

What is interesting is that I never got this kind of grade when I wrote research papers in high school. In fact, I don't think I ever got more than an 85% on any critical paper in those days. Now, I'm pulling papers out of my butt and getting A's. Either I went to the hardest public high school in the US or I've become and paper goddess.

K.

Well, Bugger

A sight truly indicative of the day I am having:

Me, sitting alone in the student union, reading a Holocaust textbook and eating a piece of pizza.

Dear G-d, when will it end?

K.

Does This Make Me Famous By Association?

The screenshot is tiny, but that circled girl is a brother from my chapter of Phi Sigma Pi, a real peach of a girl with Broadway ambitions. The actual trailer for M. Night's newest movie is here. The scene is in the very beginning. Movie looks terrible, but I love this girl, so I will be going to see it.

Oh, and this is my 200th post. It's been an obscenely long time coming.

K.

Feeling the Blues on a Snow Day

After watching The Blue Brothers with my neighbor today, I've decided that if I ever go for my doctorate I would write my dissertation about said movie and our society's ability to ignore the extraordinary things that happen everyday. There are seventy billion explosions and wild car chases in that occur in that movie and nobody comments on them. After I mentioned it to my neighbor, she agreed that it would make a bitchin' dissertation. Now I just have to find a program that would accept it.

And now, one of my favorite clips from one of my favorite "bands":



Dance, blues man, dance!

K.

PS. Yay, snow days!

Cheese it! It's the Cops!

I wish it wasn't so cold out-- then I could walk across my parking lot to find out why there are so many police cruisers outside my building. I should be typing my paper, but when you hear someone talking over cruiser speakers, you can't just sit and think about the religious implications of Eudora Welty's short stories. No, you get up, open your window, and squint really hard at the street because you've taken out your contacts and can't be assed to put them back in for the rest of the night. Unfortunately, giant flashing blurs don't excitement make, so you go back to your computer, disappointed, and try to rub some warmth back into your figures.

Then you figure that you could read the safety report that's bound to come out of this mess and save yourself some trouble.

At least, that's what I would do.


K.

Jaw Dropping

I've been watching the television show "Bones" lately and it's occurred to me that seemingly every corpse they find has its mouth wide open. It's like the skull forced out one final, silent scream. I'm sure that this is caused by the muscles bracing the jaw bone rotting away and leaving the jaw to sway in the wind, but... eww. It just seems so undignified.

If I'm buried after my death and someone digs me up centuries later, my jaw is going to be hanging to my sternum. Does that bother anyone else?

K.

Smelling Scotland

A strange thing happened to me today.

I walked out of Main Hall and I smelled Scotland.

If it hadn't been for the push of people at my back, I probably would have followed my natural inclination and just stopped, closed my eyes, and breathe. But people have places to be, so I decided not to indulge, but walk towards Recitation Hall, sniffing.

It had rained earlier that morning. While was in class, the sun had come out briefly to warm the grass and allow the rainwater to just begin to vaporize. I think this is what I smelled: the intensely green, warm scent that only comes from a damp country with momentary peeks of sunlight.

I think if I had let a picture form in my mind to correspond with the smell, it would have been walking over the loch bridge at the University of Stirling, on my way to the bookstore, bus stop, or what have you. That view was like Scotland in my front yard-- lochs, hills, and green green green. Frankly, I'm disappointed that I didn't just stop. At the risk of sounding overly sensitive, I probably would have teared up a little. I guess I just miss my life there, even if it's far away from the people and sights that I need to survive emotionally.

For those that want to see what I see, go here. It's not exact, but you can get the idea.

I want to go home-- I'm just not sure what home I want to go to.

K.

Running Without the Benefit

Last night, I had a dream where my family and I were staying on some island that was suddenly taken over by Nazis. I know that I spent most of my dream screaming at my family, trying to get them to escape, though they insisted on staying the rest of the night and fleeing in the morning. I believe that we did actually get out alive, which is nice, I guess.

My reason for posting this dream isn't really the dream itself, but the aftermath. I often have these strange, almost violent dreams where I'm running or screaming or getting out of breath in some way. When I wake up, the covers are on the floor and I'm usually missing a pillow or two. And very, very tired.

I sometimes wonder if I've been running in my sleep, much like a hyperactive dog does while he dreams. My father has told me that once, during a vacation, I sat up in bed and screeched, "No! Stop! STOP!" (I still remember that dream, incidentally. It involved George W. Bush shooting at a bunch of us executioner-style. I even recall shouting. I don't think that this dream has any symbolic meaning-- Bush was probably on the TV right before I went to sleep. It could just have easily have been Anderson Cooper taking aim at me, which would have been much sexier.) So it seems to me that if I could have used enough muscles to sit up and scream, then I very possibly be running while horizontal.

I find this really irritating. I dislike the idea of waking up more tired than when I went to sleep. It seems like a waste of time and, frankly, counterproductive. And how exactly can I tell my professors that I've been vigorously exercising in my dreams, therefore, I can't pay attention to the implications of propaganda on our society? Nobody's going to buy it.

If you have any ideas short of drugging me to help me get a restful night's sleep, please let me know. I would hate to have a dream about running the marathon, only to find myself unable to get out bed for days because my body has run 26 miles through the bed sheets.

K.

PS. Posts until 200: 5

Digital Pick Me Ups

As you other single people know, today was Valentine's Day, which means I basically stayed inside. The only VD (is it a coincidence that Valentine's Day and venereal disease start with the same letters? I think not.) input I got was from the ever-classy Jerry Springer Show, where they had an overweight transsexual dressed as a bikini-clad cupid. That's really all I needed.

But there was one thing that made it even better... one e-mail.

"Hey kate! I wanted to wish you a happy valentine's day. The fam misses you over here in little old york. Hope to see you again soon! Your bro, A."

I think my little brother's girlfriend is a good influence on him. I still haven't decided whether he absolutely needed to write both his first name and his last name in his e-mail. I've only known him 18 years, after all. But still, it was sweet.

I also received an e-mail from the NaBloPoMo people announcing that there will be monthly NaBloPoMos, just subject related. March is list month. I just might participate, if only for my love of lists.

Anyone else?

K.

PS. Posts Until 200: 6

Scattered Thought: Ugh!

• I think that I have to accept that my parakeet is a girl bird. She doesn't talk and her cere is brown-- hallmarks of a female budgie. I know that doesn't change her personality at all, but I've already begun being more conscious of the trouble she gets herself into. Pure gender role bullshit on my part. I'm no bra-burner, but I don't want to start treating this bird differently because she now has ovaries. What a dumb thing to worry about when...

• ... I have started the job search, which already has become soul-crushing. I have a list of about 45 publishing companies, but any thought of sending out resumes and cover letters makes me want to break into hysterics. This is complicated by...

• ... the fact that my brother seems to have found a girlfriend. I'm feeling a fair amount of jealousy, which is ridiculous for an older sister, much less a 22 year old. I'm not sure whether I'm irritated that I come home so rarely and never get a chance to see the kid or that he has a relationship and I don't. Again, that's a stupid reason. I've had plenty of chances, but I suppose that it's mainly fear that has kept me single forever. I can venture to the other side of the world by myself, but I can't commit to giving up all of my time and energies to a guy. Speaking of traveling...

• ... it's pretty much certain that I'm going to China in May. My university is offering a class about global health, environmental, and education issues and, well, I need one more class to graduate. And if I can get that done in two weeks and in China, then so much the better. The whole thing, including tuition, will probably cost me up to $6,000, all of which I'll be paying by myself with savings from my birth and bat mitzvah. It's exciting, but a tad scary. Still, I'll probably never get to China on my own and I need something to look forward to. It also helps that my family is going to Israel mere weeks after I return from the Orient (probably the last family vacation we'll ever have), but...

• ... unfortunately, our Israeli friends are dealing with a seriously sick child. The poor kid is five years old and has recently had to undergo a spinal tap and hospitalization. They are thinking meningitis, but it's hard to be certain. I'm not a real believer, but these people are observant Jews and would probably appreciate a few well-placed prayers. If you feel so inclined, maybe ask the Big Guy (or Girl... or Non-Gender-Specific-Being) to consider being kind of merciful on this kid? He's sweet.

Yeah, that's it.

K.

PS. Posts left until 200: 8

Who is Going to China in May?

Oh yeah, it's me.

More information as it becomes available.

K

PS. Number of posts to 200: 9

To Podcast or Not to Podcast

When I should have been doing work, I was browsing the 'net in my favorite place on my futon and my favorite mode of dress-- no pants (and by no pants, I mean no trousers). The laptop warms my legs, you wanna make something of it?

Anyway, I came across MyPodcast.com, a hosting service for, well, podcasts. As it happens whenever I discover new things, I got exceptionally excited. My mouse was just hovering over "Create Account" button when I thought, "What the hell would I say?"

And what would I say? Here is the transcript of one possible podcast:

"Hey there! It's Kate again. And... uhm... how are you, I guess? I know you can't answer me personally, but ah I guess if you just say it out loud, it's like talking to me. I guess. Um, so... uh, it's rainy outside. Or at least it was this morning. But I slept through it, I think. I walked outside and the ground was wet and the sun was out, but there rain in the air, you know how that is? Uhm, ooooookaaaaaay. What else? Whatelesewhatelsewhatelse..."

Yep, that would be me.

See, the thing is that typing out a blog post gives me time to think. There may be some run-on sentences or random pauses, but those are mostly intentional. I don't a podcast for me would be a very good idea.

Anyone else thought about it?

K.

PS. Countdown to 200 posts: 10

One More Thing...

A conversation between two New Yorkers in the Rock Cafe at Rockefeller Square.

Woman: I can't watch the Super Bowl.

Man: How can you not watch the Super Bowl?

Woman: Can you go shoe shopping for eight hours and not by anything?

Man: Good point.

Somehow I managed to catch the New Yorkiest conversation ever.

K.

Trust the Koreans to Come Up With This

I'm not sure if I will ever eat eggs again.

K.

Snail Mail Sunday (Done on a Monday) #6

Dear blogosphere,

Do this!

Bloggers, stand up and be counted! Take the “Public and Private in the Blogosphere” Survey!

Thanks!

K.

13 Things That I Have Done That Are Pretty Awesome

Another meme, this time from A G33k Tragedy!

13 Things That I Have Done That Are Pretty Awesome

1) I have traveled to Israel and Scotland by myself and survived.
2) I've been published and am still sending out material. True, my Wall o' Rejection is growing, but that's an achievement in itself.
3) Decided to go the AWP Conference, planned most of it, and ended up going by myself (again).
4) Went to a Billy Joel concert.
5) I have friends on 5 out of 7 continents, all met on study abroad.
6) Put all of myself into the organizations I have joined.
7) Taught Israeli soldiers how to play Red Rover at a Bedouin camp under the stars.
8) Climbed Masada and seen the sun rise.
9) Had the worst travel experience ever... and survived!
10) Have survived for most of the school year in my first apartment.
11) I've kept up this blog for nearly three years more than I thought I would.
12) Planned and executed my own Burns' Night for my fraternity.
13) Got great grades at the University of Stirling, all while taking the hardest classes I've ever experienced!

Wow, that felt like filling out a resume.

I'll tag Irina, Rachel, and Gwyn. Fill it out if you wanna!

K.

A New York Post in Numbers

(This keyboard is crap, so this will be short.)

"Big Time" speakers seen at convention: 3 (John Irving, Frank McCourt, and Bill Collins)

Celebrities seen: 1 (Clay Aiken coming out of "Spamalot")

Broadway plays seen: 1 ("Avenue Q")

Blocks walked: Eleventy billion

K.