“Vulnerability sounds like truth and feels like courage. Truth and courage aren't always comfortable, but they're never weakness.” - Brene' Brown

Thursday, May 30, 2013

My face felt hot, sweat beads orbited along my bleached outgrown hair line, my chest glittering like fresh mahogany, probably from the fact that I was trying to clench my breath and talk simultaneously.
There I was in front of my whole class crumbling, like a fresh biscuit.
I wasn't falling apart because I was nervous or had messed up, I can't lie, my nerves had made me a bit jittery, but thats not why I was on the verge of becoming a complete wreck during my presentation.
I was falling apart because I had to cough. Not just the clear your throat kind of cough but on the brink of war kind of cough, and sadly I was going to lose. Sorry to ruin it for you.
Each word came out carefully, lips tight, like a pair of cheeks gripping at a fart. My chest started to take the blows as if a cannon was firing in to my rib cage. Eventually my chest surrendered and the war erupted into the armpit of my elbow.
I tried to contain the spray of slobber to myself but it fanned out, getting friendly with the computer screen, and making a booming entrance over the microphone.
Suddenly my nose was feeling warm inside and I could feel a light stream taking it's time inching closer to the brim of my nose.
My eyes were building up with pressure from containing everything that wanted burst out. Tears started to dangle from my waterproof mascara, waiting to take the plunge and erase any trace of powder my checks had.
"Do I even finish?!?!" I thought to myself "this is so pitiful."
Everyones faces were telling me the same thing "Oh you poor thing, just sit down."
My mind was fighting my body. My body saying "sit down you are making a fool of yourself", while my head was saying "just finish it, it's your grade, you can do this"
I scratched, belly crawled, and quarreled my way through the last two slides and coughingly finished with"No questions please."
I went immediately into the hallway, gasping and slobber coughing as if I had just come out from holding my breath underwater.  When I reached the bathroom I noticed the stream from my nose was not clear but was also a color that could be worn beautifully on my lips.
I washed my face, to wipe away the tears, blood, makeup and sweat.
My head just kept shaking. I couldn't help but laugh, thinking about how that had to be the most pitiful, worst, most painful presentation in history...
The phrase, "what's the worst that could happen?" now has a whole new, amusing, altering meaning.

"See how the morning breaks Its the simplest of love songs But its all our hearts can take And though we lose our stake Heaven is where we make it Even in the smallest places Can a garden grow." -Noah Gundersen

Monday, May 27, 2013

I like to take care of things. Sometimes I feel like I am searching to see what I can take care of.
I definitely take this characteristic from my mom. As much as I try to assert myself as my own person, I won't even try to deny this fact.
I don't know what it is that makes taking care of something feel so fulfilling. Maybe it's somewhat selfish in nature.

A garden that is already planted and already full grown, ready to harvest is not satisfying to me.
I want a garden that I sweat over.
A garden that I can't tell where my crooked toes or thin hands are because they are so a part of it.
That the dirt is embedded under my un-manicured nails from clearing away weeds and bugs.
I want a garden that stumps me when my bell peppers are dying and I have to figure out how to keep them alive.
I want to see the change in the plants as they grow up.

I don't want a bike that is already in mint condition.
I want a bike that has it quirks, its odd parts that don't always match up.
That I can add to and make my own.
I want the feeling of residue grease on my legs with finger stripes reminding me that I am making progress.
I want to learn the in and outs so that I can fix it and keep it soaring down the road.
Its value should be evident to me everyday not because of how much I payed but for the adventures and time spent pushing its pedals.

This doesn't work in all situations
Sometimes it feels like no matter how much I care things still get ruined or can't be fixed.
The failure is a reminder that I tried for something, that I really felt care.
And sometimes that has to be enough.

“You are water I’m water we’re all water in different containers that’s why it’s so easy to meet someday we’ll evaporate together.” -Yoko Ono

My mom sent this picture to me this morning. It makes me excited to visit home in the sumer. 
The waters of the NW, can't beat it. 


Sunday, May 26, 2013

But sometimes the heart and the head is so full of dung and is so involved in the battle that it's hard to lay them down.
They have chosen a side, possibly different sides.
Each persuading in different directions.
Which one do I trust?...
Not sure.
So here I find myself with my white flag in hand.

scenes from an airport

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

"I like to see people reunited, maybe thats a silly thing, but what can I say, I like to see people run to each other, I like the kissing and the crying, I like the impatience, the stories that the mouth can't tell fast enough, the ears that aren't big enough, the eyes that can't take in all of the change, I like the hugging, the bringing together, the end of missing someone."- Jonathan Safran Foer

This is right up my alley.
I feel like Jonathan and I could really enjoy people watching together.
I picture us sitting on a bench in the midst of the hustle and bustle, we would each have a cup of coffee in our hand, perhaps some books as well to make our observing not so noticeable to everyone. We would use every part of our eyes to scan the faces, being thorough face detectives, searching for any hint of emotion that would give us a lead. We would catch real raw moments, trusting authentic emotions. Our ears would grasp bits and pieces of people chattering, struggling to shove their words out, not knowing where to start, as if they are running out of time. Jonathan and I would talk about the embraces, the excitement and make a game out of how long it had been since they had seen each other, although we would never know who was right...
I wonder how we would feel sitting on that bench watching all of these emotions unfold right in front of us.
We wouldn't know part 1 to their stories, the goodbyes and tears, possibly the unknown of the next encounter.
But I have a feeling we would enjoy part 2 better anyways,
 the end.... the end of missing.

tattle tale, tattle tale hang your britches on a nail

Monday, May 20, 2013

There I sat in the back of class. Somewhat isolating myself from the rest because I was trying to put the finishing detail on the homework I had seriously delayed doing.
The class was busy doing their class evaluations so I didn't feel like I was missing much, so I kept truckin along on my homework.
All of a sudden a class evaluation was placed right on top of the homework that I was so diligently doing. Annoyed I looked up to see who had put the paper on my homework.
It was a girl who is usually just helpful, so I took a breath in a said "thanks but I am not going to do an evaluation."
 I had decided to skip it because I would just randomly fill in the circles creating some neat design on the paper that would probably just skew the data and not contribute and benefit anyone.

She replied by saying, "you have to do it."

I tried to keep my tone tamed and leashed and said "no i don't think I do."

"Yes you do have to do it,” she snapped back

"Nope pretty sure I don't,” I said contingently

"If I did then you have to do it"

By this time my voice was slipping out of the harness tightly around my vocal chords and my "no" was becoming a bit stronger in its bark.
"NO…. I don't."

"It's not fair if you don't"

WHAT?! I thought to myself. Am I having a conversation with a 6 year old?  I wanted to blurt that out at her but instead I replied by saying "Life isn't fair, you will learn that later on."

She quickly responded by saying, "Well I will tell on you!'

By that time the surrounding people even were starting to give bewildered looks and making comments under their breaths.

I briefly looked up at her and said calmly "go ahead" then just continued with my work.

The secretary later made the call for the last class evaluations to be turned in and all of a sudden I heard the voice of not a 6 year old but a 5-year-old saying "Kati Winkle didn't do one!"

The secretary looked at her puzzled and said "what?"

"Kati Winkle didn't fill one out!" She shouted back.

She looked back and smiled as if to say "there I accepted your challenge."

I just stared at her expressionless and then continued on with my homework.
Others by that time had joined in a said "how do you know? Isn’t it supposed to be anonymous anyways?" "Why do you care?"

I don’t' think she got the response she had hoped for.

I was so annoyed.
I tried to think of the last time I had heard the phrase "well I am going to tell on you."
It had to be 1st grade, because I was home-schooled 2nd and 3rd and that probably would have been the last times I would have heard that.
I mean is that really a threat? Come on, we are in graduate school.
Some people. 

“Life is an experiment in which you may fail or succeed. Explore more, expect least.” - Santosh Kalwar

Sunday, May 19, 2013

The idea that life teaches us how to live does not sit well with me.
Mainly because things would be different if we just already knew how to live.
Think about all the ways we as humans have evolved. But still after years and years of people making mistakes and learning lessons, we don't evolve in the way that seems the most important. 
I probably don't like this either because I typically like to do things right the first time around.
Some lessons would have been nice to have since the beginning, there are things I would have done differently...

Maybe my sweaty palms would have entangled many other boys’ sweaty palms.
You would have caught a glimpse of my dark outline soaring across the night illuminated water more frequently.
I would have stood with a stronger backbone, saying what I needed, and learned to say no.
Solitude every once in a while would have been a priority, and not accompanied by loneliness.
I could have had the courage to grab that face and pull it in for a sweet kiss, even if I made a fool of myself.
The feelings of intruding on a get together would have been replaced by the opportunity to make new friends.
I would have rode my bike home from the gym with only my swimsuit on, letting my body mold where it pleased, as my curved back was brushed over with neutral air.
I would have known the art of relaxation.
Apologies would not have been given out when I just felt inadequate.
Morning and night routines would not have been set in stone, but rather mixed up and open for adventures.
I wouldn't have strived for a "perfect" life set to someone else's standards, but rather a life that is imperfect and all mine.

If only these things could have been deeply rooted within in me since birth, predisposed to wise-ness. 
I guess Gandalf wasn't born with a white beard; even he had to go through the same process.


Tuesday, May 14, 2013

I’m tired of fighting.
The feeling of my body fighting itself exhausts me.
Being constantly aware of the battle inside.
The cells attack, turning against themselves and their true being.
Forts are built and traps are set in every organ, protecting and tricking.
It feels unnatural, not the way a body should function...and I want it to stop.
I want to hold up my white flag and say I surrender.
I shut my eyes and wait to give up the fight.
In the dark I want to shout, "I don't care anymore!"
But I do care.
So I put forth my 2 strongest organs to negotiate, my heart and my head.
I lay them down, not surrendering, but rather hoping to bring peace, to feel stronger.
Strong enough to stop the fight. 

Nothing compares to the simple pleasure of a bike ride. ~John F. Kennedy

Monday, May 13, 2013

I got this in a text message from a friend the other day... It made me never want to stop riding bikes. 


Thursday, May 9, 2013

Tea Always on My Mind (thanks Elliot) 

The early morning are clutter free, unlike my room.
The sun stretches its rays out across the grass and up the hills announcing its arrival.
My mind is free to think, or not think at all.
There are no interruptions because most people still lay overcooked, swaddled up in their beds.
Tea is one of the only things that occupies my mind as I stumble out of bed. I have to remind myself I will feel warm again shortly once my hands clutch my mug.
My pajamas are partially covered up by my oversized sweater with no one around to judge my mixed patterns and colors as I exit my house.
My lizard friend, Lenny, is always the only one up to greet me, but usually ditches when I start to weed.
The air somehow feels fresher, maybe it's not polluted yet with the huffing and puffing of everyone else's breathing or maybe it's just the crispness of the still lingering cool night.
Sprinklers wiz around the neighbors yard, with each spritz layering the uneven ground, while the birds gather to chatter about the day and bathe in the pools.
I am productive in my thoughts, walking, reading, gardening, and tea drinking.
Such a fresh start, not consumed with havoc, checklists, or obligations.
I wish the mornings didn't go away, but that 40 mins makes my day a bit more blissful, and that more special.

"That's all anyone wants from anyone else, not love itself but the knowledge that love is there."- Jonathan Safran Foer

Tuesday, May 7, 2013

It's easy to talk ourselves in and out of things.
We tell ourselves whatever it is we want to believe or not believe.
It doesn't matter how many times our friends or family discourage or encourage us, in the end we will convince ourselves in order to just ease our minds.
We will prove and twist the outcome to satisfy what it is we think we need or want to portray to others.
We will make up some rational explanation that typically only makes sense in our own head.

In the end is that enough?

I think sometimes it is.
But in the end...
I think we often realize that we were just convincing ourselves of nonsense.

“Let everything happen to you Beauty and terror Just keep going No feeling is final” -Rainer Maria Rilke

Sunday, May 5, 2013

The tires can't seem to move me forward fast enough at the pace I want them to.
My pedals squeak with each rotation around the hinge, making me sometimes wonder if someday the force of my legs trying to make me go faster will break the pedal, ramming my leg down to meet the ground.

Sometimes I want things to move at a certain speed, happen a certain way.
This often takes away from a true genuine reaction, a genuine moment.

Whenever I plan something out in my head it never goes the way I thought it would...only leading to disappointment. Unplanned moments are the ones that you often remember most vividly. Their crispness still infusing your mind.

Like the time....
You jam your finger as the word comes unflinchingly out of your mouth, and you immediately wish you could suck it back in, but "FUCK" has already started to echo throughout the gym in front of the most conservative girl in high school.
When you are reunited with a friend and the deep pains of laughter gives your stomach the best kind of workout.
You catch someones gaze from across a free blowing overgrown field and know that you are adored.
Through miles and miles of phone lines you feel your dads hurt, frustration and rattling of his mind trying to form the right words to ease your pain.
You feel the pounding of the ball at your feet as you somehow guide it through the obstacle of people, placing it in the basket not only surprising yourself but others.
Your hair is pulled, oiled, and braided, resting gently between your two shoulder blades, while the village ladies weave flowers throughout the very distinct oily strands.

Sometimes I don't know what to make of situations or how to relate, but that is my honest self.
In some of those moments my heart didn't know how to react, wanting to shield myself, or hide away. Other moments my heart was honest and open, grasping at the idea of how I couldn't picture anything better in that moment. Just wanting to hit pause and let the static waves take over.

Blog Archive

K All rights reserved © Blog Milk