It all started with Enya. Mom and I would listen to her in the car on long drives to my aunt's or my grandma's. or maybe it was the random Celtic music radio station we found between Coldwater and Muskegon, Michigan before it faded out to static. We'd listen to it while driving north on highway 69 to highway 96. The sun was always setting, fading into darkness as wove through the rolling hills covered in pine. It was narrated by a woman named Fiona. I loved how she said her name: "Fee-yoohh-nah." Her accent in general was lovely. Celtic music makes me feel in touch with my roots. My family has been in America since the 1600s or 1700s. Meaning We were about 5 types of European ancestry and about as American as it comes. But my last name was Irish. And I'd been to Ireland. So I felt more connected to that than any other white Europeans nations my ancestors tramped through. I liked to imagine them, living in the green hills of Ireland, tending sheep and being caught up in other romantic stories. In reality, they might have been drunks, or pious, certainly racist at one point in history or another. my ancestors certainly wouldn't like me the way Mulan's ghost-like ones did. Other than my name, my love of potatoes in all shapes and forms, and maybe my alight abundance of knowledge on Celtic history I've done through school and on my own, I'm not very Irish. Some people know second languages, or still perform customs their great grandparents did. Maybe they still carry a name from their ancestor or have family back in the country they're from. I think there's still something tying us all to our roots which had woven through history to bring us to where we are today. I also think it's important not to lose that. So I have Celtic music, two trips to Ireland, and my family crest. And that's good enough for now.
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
Thursday, May 8, 2014
5:46 PM
By katie renee
In: adult life, beginners, christopher plummer, ewan mcgregor, film, growing up, melanie laurent, parenting
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By katie renee
In: adult life, beginners, christopher plummer, ewan mcgregor, film, growing up, melanie laurent, parenting
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Day 6ish: Wonderful films and Quarter-Life Crises.
So my boyfriend and I just finished watching "Beginners" a film starring Melanie Laurent (excuse the non-accent over the E in her name), Ewan McGregor, and Christopher Plummer. It was heartbreaking, lovely, funny, bittersweet, realistic, uplifting, and just wholly wonderful. I basically just teared up for the last half of the film. the score and soundtrack were wonderful as well. I haven't watched a film so uniquely filmed/created in awhile--lately with the BF and I, it's action, comedy, and TV shows. Which is why I insisted on watching it. I've been wanting to see it since it came out and the opportunity presented itself on HBOGO. So I highly recommend!
It got me thinking of course--actually lately, I've been thinking a lot about aging, life, death, and everything in between. I think we call is a quarter-life crisis. I'm 25. I graduated from undergrad last spring and have my first full-time, yet-still-unsalaried position. I have been dating my boyfriend for 3 1/2+ years. I'm at the point in my life where a lot of my friends are getting married, having kids, my parents are getting older, my younger siblings are becoming adults, and my grandparents are getting much older. I know I've been thinking too much about it--about how it will be when I'm old and dealing with young people. I'm a writer and I think my strong suit is character and understanding where people have been and what's happened to them to make them who they are. So I'm constantly dissecting my parents and my grandparents and my friend's kids and trying to figure out what not to do and what to do and how to do it all gracefully.
Seriously, at 25 I should be worrying about other things.
But in all honesty, I think, and as I believe many might think, I just want to fix or improve upon what my parents did. So I think up plans of how I'd introduce electronics into my kids' lives. When they get a flip phone, when they get a smart phone. How much TV and computer in a day. How I'll get them outdoors.
And it all comes down to that I'm afraid to mess up as a parent. And I tell my boyfriend this not ten minutes ago and he looks at me with those big blue eyes and he says, "you are going to be a fucking good mother." and he repeated it. And something funny happened in my chest, or maybe it was my heart. I felt like the Grinch in the scene where his heart grows. My boyfriend of 3+ years thinks I'll be a good mother and it's such a little thing to say, just a few words strung together in the English language, but it really did mean something.
And then I was tearing up again, or maybe I never really stopped because Ewan, Melanie, and Christopher had just mad me cry for like and hour. Just like the film teaches, I will always be beginning something. And it will never be too late to begin, just like it will never be too late to believe that love can last forever. I haven't lost that, surprisingly, after seeing my parents and my aunts and my cousins and my friends. And I don't plan to.
It got me thinking of course--actually lately, I've been thinking a lot about aging, life, death, and everything in between. I think we call is a quarter-life crisis. I'm 25. I graduated from undergrad last spring and have my first full-time, yet-still-unsalaried position. I have been dating my boyfriend for 3 1/2+ years. I'm at the point in my life where a lot of my friends are getting married, having kids, my parents are getting older, my younger siblings are becoming adults, and my grandparents are getting much older. I know I've been thinking too much about it--about how it will be when I'm old and dealing with young people. I'm a writer and I think my strong suit is character and understanding where people have been and what's happened to them to make them who they are. So I'm constantly dissecting my parents and my grandparents and my friend's kids and trying to figure out what not to do and what to do and how to do it all gracefully.
Seriously, at 25 I should be worrying about other things.
But in all honesty, I think, and as I believe many might think, I just want to fix or improve upon what my parents did. So I think up plans of how I'd introduce electronics into my kids' lives. When they get a flip phone, when they get a smart phone. How much TV and computer in a day. How I'll get them outdoors.
And it all comes down to that I'm afraid to mess up as a parent. And I tell my boyfriend this not ten minutes ago and he looks at me with those big blue eyes and he says, "you are going to be a fucking good mother." and he repeated it. And something funny happened in my chest, or maybe it was my heart. I felt like the Grinch in the scene where his heart grows. My boyfriend of 3+ years thinks I'll be a good mother and it's such a little thing to say, just a few words strung together in the English language, but it really did mean something.
And then I was tearing up again, or maybe I never really stopped because Ewan, Melanie, and Christopher had just mad me cry for like and hour. Just like the film teaches, I will always be beginning something. And it will never be too late to begin, just like it will never be too late to believe that love can last forever. I haven't lost that, surprisingly, after seeing my parents and my aunts and my cousins and my friends. And I don't plan to.
Tuesday, May 6, 2014
12:28 PM
By katie renee
In: accidents, cats, chardee macdennis, falling, heartbreak, legos, list, lists, my little pony, pain, pain poker, pillow fights, stitches
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By katie renee
In: accidents, cats, chardee macdennis, falling, heartbreak, legos, list, lists, my little pony, pain, pain poker, pillow fights, stitches
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How I would rank pain, everything from Legos to stitches to heartbreak.
Seriously though. I'm the master of small injury. My friends are amazed I haven't broken anything before--well, not officially.
- Getting numbing shots inside the gash on my lower front calf for stitches, a gash I received while hammering tile out of a bathroom for hurricane relief and wouldn't close when I tried to press it together.
- Cramps. You know the ones I'm talking about.
- Your biggest heartbreak when you think back on it 5 years later.
- Stubbing/slamming/mangling a bare toe extremely hard on furniture when you are happy--specifically because it hurts just that much worse.
- That time I rolled my ankle while drunk and then proceeded to walk on it all night. It was probably broken because I couldn't bend it to the side for 3 months. I definitely couldn't walk on it the next day. Probably should've gotten it X-Rayed. Oh well!
- Burns, whether they're from baking dishes, straighters, curling irons, real irons, or a fiery My Little Pony because you were playing Chardee MacDennis and lost.
- Hangovers that last all day.
- Motherfucking bee stings.
- Pain Poker with enemies.
- Stepping on an errant Lego, especially the pointy end.
- Getting cut on the tongue by a Dum-Dum sucker you are thoroughly enjoying.
- Scraping your hands when you fall. Ow.
- Shaving cuts on your downstairs.
- Wearing heels for more than an hour.
- Your first heartbreak when you think about it 10 years later.
- Pain Poker with friends.
- Getting the gash from the flying tile missile while doing hurricane relief.
- Spilling an expensive drink or coffee I was really, really looking forward too.
- My cat's attempted vendettas. Shut up bitch, I'm still going to pick you up because you're soft and I want to love you.
- Pillow fights
Thursday, May 1, 2014
7:20 AM
By katie renee
In: best friends, flights, found, high school, life, lost, pandora, taking back sunday, travel., wedding
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By katie renee
In: best friends, flights, found, high school, life, lost, pandora, taking back sunday, travel., wedding
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Day 4: Lost, found, weddings, and taking back sunday
I didn't have much to write yesterday, so nothing got written. I went to work, came home, did some laundry while watching the first three episodes of Girls season 1 which I can do now that our friends have invited us to the wonderful family that is HBO-GO, and then ate out with the BF because today, I'm leaving for Vegas until Sunday night. My best friend is getting married. I feel the need to say that they live in Vegas, it's not a destination wedding. And that they live there because he's in the air force. I think people, or maybe it's just me, get a certain idea about a place like Vegas when you say you're going there for a wedding. Last time I went, it wasn't for casinos and frivolity either, but for the birth of their son, my "nephew" (WHO GOOD GOD I AM SO EXCITED TO SEE I AM GOING TO CUDDLE THE SHIT OUT OF HIM).
Anyway, Usually your best friend's wedding is a big to-do, but this is a fairly informal event. Just her sister and I are walking the aisle in different colored, but slightly matched dresses my BFF picked and she's going barefoot and he'd wearing chucks. I texted her the other day asking if I was "on deck" as in am I supposed to give a speech and she said if I wanted to. well, I wrote one. It's short, simple, to the point, and will make me cry. Maybe no one else. Now that would be funny... and embarrassing. Sounds like a TV show scene.
So I'm excited. My best friend has had some shitty times in her life, and some shitty people. We met in 9th grade in our honors biology/English block. the sentence that usually follows that line, is "we were inseparable" after that. That's not true. We had our ups and downs. But the important thing is, she is still in my life and I'm still in hers. We might've not been besties every year following 9th grade, but she is the only person I care to know from high school. My friends in high school weren't very good friends. But Amanda, she stuck through it all. So what I want to say, at her wedding, is that I'm proud to not only call her a best friend, but I'm proud she has built for herself such a beautiful and loving family, and I'm so happy to be a part of it.
When I started, I titled this post "Lost" because I started it up again last night. I was going to talk about how awesome the show is, even thought I'm late to the bandwagon--later because I was watching it like wildfire last summer and then halfway through season 3 got frustrated and quit because I have like a thousand other shows to watch and many were returning in the fall. But the episode I revisited last night actually answered some of my questions. and makes me excited to continue.
But then I started talking about the wedding and maybe it should be called something else. To be cliche, I'd say back in high school, that was my lost period, and now, I couldn't feel more strongly about the fact that I've been found.
Yay cliches!
Time to puzzle, listen to one of my favorite Pandora stations--Taking Back Sunday, my first station I ever created actually and it's loaded with music from high school that I used to listen to with said BFF. Getting into the swing of things :)
Anyway, Usually your best friend's wedding is a big to-do, but this is a fairly informal event. Just her sister and I are walking the aisle in different colored, but slightly matched dresses my BFF picked and she's going barefoot and he'd wearing chucks. I texted her the other day asking if I was "on deck" as in am I supposed to give a speech and she said if I wanted to. well, I wrote one. It's short, simple, to the point, and will make me cry. Maybe no one else. Now that would be funny... and embarrassing. Sounds like a TV show scene.
So I'm excited. My best friend has had some shitty times in her life, and some shitty people. We met in 9th grade in our honors biology/English block. the sentence that usually follows that line, is "we were inseparable" after that. That's not true. We had our ups and downs. But the important thing is, she is still in my life and I'm still in hers. We might've not been besties every year following 9th grade, but she is the only person I care to know from high school. My friends in high school weren't very good friends. But Amanda, she stuck through it all. So what I want to say, at her wedding, is that I'm proud to not only call her a best friend, but I'm proud she has built for herself such a beautiful and loving family, and I'm so happy to be a part of it.
When I started, I titled this post "Lost" because I started it up again last night. I was going to talk about how awesome the show is, even thought I'm late to the bandwagon--later because I was watching it like wildfire last summer and then halfway through season 3 got frustrated and quit because I have like a thousand other shows to watch and many were returning in the fall. But the episode I revisited last night actually answered some of my questions. and makes me excited to continue.
But then I started talking about the wedding and maybe it should be called something else. To be cliche, I'd say back in high school, that was my lost period, and now, I couldn't feel more strongly about the fact that I've been found.
Yay cliches!
Time to puzzle, listen to one of my favorite Pandora stations--Taking Back Sunday, my first station I ever created actually and it's loaded with music from high school that I used to listen to with said BFF. Getting into the swing of things :)
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
3:51 PM
By katie renee
In: ancient, floppy disk, growing, life, plans, practice, roots, technology, teenager, writing
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By katie renee
In: ancient, floppy disk, growing, life, plans, practice, roots, technology, teenager, writing
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Day 3: Sifting through your roots.
I've always been writing. Since 1st or 2nd grade when I wrote a little story for class about a star. I wish I still had that. What I do still have are floppy disks. I counted: there are 16 floppy disks that I used up until freshmen year of college via a USB floppy disk drive. That I just found. And am currently utilizing.
It's a funny thing, old technology. when I powered it up, it whirred like the stone age was coming back to life--or at the very least, dial-up internet. the floppy disks are red, yellow, orange, blue, and green. I numbered them and labeled them using tan masking tape and bullet points with what each contained. Some of the stories are familiar looking, some are not. Some I'm already cringing at the thought of reading it, but my curiosity will always win out--these are my roots. Some of my stories now are based off of these very scatter-brained writings of a teenager. I had no grammar sense, and no idea how to make paragraphs. But for how bad that is, there's something pretty golden about the rawness--I wasn't hemmed in by adult worries of planning a story or worrying about character development or any one thing. I just wrote. And wrote. And wrote. I have on average about 100 document currently some containing one paragraph, some over 100 pages long--only about 6 of them are actual stories I work on. These floppy disks contain about 60 stories, so I guess I've always been ambitious. Or really bad at planning story arcs. The point is I was writing and I didn't care if I was good at the time, I just couldn't not write. And I still feel that way, but I worry more about it (not a bad thing). The old stories might not be fun to look at, might be messy and incoherent and downright embarrassing, but they are sort of like my roots--and there are still some stellar lines hidden among the rabble. I'm glad I got them out and started sifting through them--I just might learn something from my teenaged-self.
It's a funny thing, old technology. when I powered it up, it whirred like the stone age was coming back to life--or at the very least, dial-up internet. the floppy disks are red, yellow, orange, blue, and green. I numbered them and labeled them using tan masking tape and bullet points with what each contained. Some of the stories are familiar looking, some are not. Some I'm already cringing at the thought of reading it, but my curiosity will always win out--these are my roots. Some of my stories now are based off of these very scatter-brained writings of a teenager. I had no grammar sense, and no idea how to make paragraphs. But for how bad that is, there's something pretty golden about the rawness--I wasn't hemmed in by adult worries of planning a story or worrying about character development or any one thing. I just wrote. And wrote. And wrote. I have on average about 100 document currently some containing one paragraph, some over 100 pages long--only about 6 of them are actual stories I work on. These floppy disks contain about 60 stories, so I guess I've always been ambitious. Or really bad at planning story arcs. The point is I was writing and I didn't care if I was good at the time, I just couldn't not write. And I still feel that way, but I worry more about it (not a bad thing). The old stories might not be fun to look at, might be messy and incoherent and downright embarrassing, but they are sort of like my roots--and there are still some stellar lines hidden among the rabble. I'm glad I got them out and started sifting through them--I just might learn something from my teenaged-self.
Monday, April 28, 2014
6:50 AM
By katie renee
In: blog, case of the mondays, CBS, chuck, life, Monday, office space, society
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By katie renee
In: blog, case of the mondays, CBS, chuck, life, Monday, office space, society
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Day 2--Because I'm not counting the weekends--A Case of the Mondays
Not sure what to write today. If I was ambitious, I'd discuss this CBS article: http://www.cbsnews.com/news/why-you-shouldnt-report-sexual-harassment/
But I don't think I am. Everything that is going to be said about it will already have been said on blogs that people actually read. So I'll just post and say how despicable it is. How I'm disgusted and how this might be just what's wrong with our society, this attitude that places blame on women who have already been wronged.
Now onto more boring things. Like rain, and homemade chicken noodle soup made by my honey last night because my tension headache/migraine was so bad. I couldn't get off the couch. And red raincoats that make you feel pretty in an Audrey Hepburn sort-of way, and caramel coffee creamer that make my morning mug of sludge worthwhile. And work, the eternal trudge of work that I don't care about in a workplace where I can't relate to anyone because they're all at least a generation older than me, if not many more. At least I have a job, that's what I keep telling myself. At least I have a job, and maybe it isn't exactly what I want, but saying you worked as a technical writer/editor at one of the largest pharmaceutical companies in the country is going to look pretty badass on the resume anywhere (hopefully).
Today, I woke up so tired I ran into walls and spoke in grunts until about 30 minutes after I dressed. Then my cat peed on my purse and my bf's rain jacket. Just because. I can't figure out why. But it's certainly not the best way to start a rainy Monday I guess you could say I've got a Case of the Mondays. Here's hoping the coffee, the raincoat, and maybe some cuddles later while watching TV (we're pushing through the glorious, wonderful Chuck season 2) will help cure it. Have a nice day!
Friday, April 25, 2014
6:49 AM
By katie renee
In: alicia keys, Brooklyn, history, jay z, matthew and the atlas, New York City, NYC, skyscrapers, travel, writing
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By katie renee
In: alicia keys, Brooklyn, history, jay z, matthew and the atlas, New York City, NYC, skyscrapers, travel, writing
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Day 1--Starting, Ending, Everything in between
I made a deal with myself, one thousand and one in a long line of deals I've made with myself to keep a blog or journal or some semblance of documentation on my average-as-hell life. I've always been fascinated by documentation of history and events, from my own, to the world's--if I could have done something with it I liked enough, I would have been a history major. Alas, I'm not the biggest fan of research when I HAVE to do it for something or someone and sucked at homework. I'm more of a freelance researcher/learner--I don't know. My aversion to doing something when I'm told to or I HAVE to is still a mystery to me.
Anyway. This deal. It's to write. Day 1, Day 2, Day 3... so on and so forth until I fail and then maybe I'll just have to start over. Maybe my goal will be 30 days, for now, in a row. Even if I have nothing much to say, I have to write something.
Today I'm going through my NYC photos from a trip I recently took with a few friends. It was my first time and I've fallen in love with it. Not sure I want to live directly there, but Brooklyn (the part I saw) was amazing. It's heavy, you know? I kept trying to describe New York City to people when I returned to Indianapolis and I just couldn't. It's indescribable, truly. It's huge and loud and overpowering and staggering and dirty and beautiful and creative and sad and happy and inspiring and concrete, yet also abstract. I don't know, maybe that's just me. Either way, I've never been to a place where I have, in equal measure, felt so entirely like an outsider, yet so entirely like I could belong all at the same time. It's the roots of America. As we tread our way up and down Manhattan and Brooklyn streets, all I could think about--and indeed I think about this anywhere I go that's older and bigger than the places in Indiana I have lived--the history of every little thing: from the sidewalk below my feet to the leaning rows of buildings. Anyone from famous people to possibly my own ancestors have walked these streets and maybe, they even felt a little bit of what I felt when I was there. Like New York City encapsulates America--where we've come from and where we're going and why people come here in the first place. Jay Z and Alicia Keys's song wouldn't leave my head, but the words rang true--concrete jungle where dreams are made. I know I will never find another place like it. I can't wait to take my bf friend back with me and really do NYC right.
Song of the Day: "I Followed Fires" by Matthew and the Atlas (via a lovely Reign TV show 8tracks I've been obsessed with
Anyway. This deal. It's to write. Day 1, Day 2, Day 3... so on and so forth until I fail and then maybe I'll just have to start over. Maybe my goal will be 30 days, for now, in a row. Even if I have nothing much to say, I have to write something.
Today I'm going through my NYC photos from a trip I recently took with a few friends. It was my first time and I've fallen in love with it. Not sure I want to live directly there, but Brooklyn (the part I saw) was amazing. It's heavy, you know? I kept trying to describe New York City to people when I returned to Indianapolis and I just couldn't. It's indescribable, truly. It's huge and loud and overpowering and staggering and dirty and beautiful and creative and sad and happy and inspiring and concrete, yet also abstract. I don't know, maybe that's just me. Either way, I've never been to a place where I have, in equal measure, felt so entirely like an outsider, yet so entirely like I could belong all at the same time. It's the roots of America. As we tread our way up and down Manhattan and Brooklyn streets, all I could think about--and indeed I think about this anywhere I go that's older and bigger than the places in Indiana I have lived--the history of every little thing: from the sidewalk below my feet to the leaning rows of buildings. Anyone from famous people to possibly my own ancestors have walked these streets and maybe, they even felt a little bit of what I felt when I was there. Like New York City encapsulates America--where we've come from and where we're going and why people come here in the first place. Jay Z and Alicia Keys's song wouldn't leave my head, but the words rang true--concrete jungle where dreams are made. I know I will never find another place like it. I can't wait to take my bf friend back with me and really do NYC right.
Song of the Day: "I Followed Fires" by Matthew and the Atlas (via a lovely Reign TV show 8tracks I've been obsessed with