Epiphany

New Year's is always an anomaly to me.  When I was growing up, we spent New Year's Eve... at home... going to bed early.  I mean, let's not get too crazy here.  And then on New Year's Day, our family would gather 'round to watch "It Happened on 5th Avenue" and at the end, when McKeever's dog jumps into his arms and they walk off together to head south, I would cry every time.  But on the whole, New Year's was and still is extremely anticlimactic for me.  Dr. Budds says that his ideal New Year's Eve would be spent going to the opera house in Vienna.  It would certainly be an occasion worth dressing up for, that's certain.  sidenote:  the lives of the rich and glamorous are an entirely different world to me... I would be lucky if that happens for me once in my lifetime.  Crazy to think that's how some people live.

On the whole though, I like to think about New Year's more in the context of the 12 Days of Christmas, i.e. the season between Christmas Day and Epiphany.  It makes more sense to me to think of Epiphany as the important day to consider, not necessarily January 1.  Besides, it lengthens the Christmas season that much more.

This New Year's Eve is no different than the rest:  weird.  I was blessed by a magical walk in the snow this morning, which turned into at least an inch or two by noon.

    
Then, since my friend Edwina is coming into town for the day, I decided that I would make a little something special.  Unfortunately in the process, I cracked my housemom's red dutch oven from Crate & Barrel...

... seriously, Katherine.  Don't try that at home, kids.  It will not bode well for you.  And then you will have to confess and look like the blonde that you sometimes are and spend an exorbitant amount of money on a new one.  And then you will be a sad puppy.  I honestly don't know why I didn't just use a saucepan in the first place.  Truly, who can know the mind of Katie Beth sometimes?...

This is what I'm making... which will eventually turn into a gluten-free version of these.  Yum.  I hope.  That is, if no other disasters strike...

Once Edwina gets here, which is taking forever because of the snow, we will finish baking these, go get stuff to make homemade hummus, eat the cauliflower soup I made yesterday, and go see my housemom at her store so she can meet Edwina and I can fess up to the cracked pot fiasco.  Then tonight, we're headed over to a couple of friends' houses.  This is the first time I've been out on New Year's Eve in... well, years.

I had hoped that I would feel better about the pot if I blogged about it.  But I don't.  I think it has to do with my personality.  I have a tendency to feel overly bad about things.  I also found out the other night that I share my Myers-Briggs personality profile with famous people like Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, J.K. Rowling, Shakespeare, and some sources even suspect Beethoven.  I wonder if Beethoven would've felt bad about the cracked pot...

Also, an update for you on the rest of my life:  I asked for three things for Christmas -- a car, a man, and season 4 of How I Met Your Mother.  I've somehow gotten both a car and Season 4 before New Year's.  I figure if a man comes before Epiphany, it still counts right?  I mean, there are 12 days of Christmas that we're dealing with here... a lot can happen in 12 days.  To be honest, I will probably find myself at the end of 2013 looking back at this post, still single and laughing at myself.  But if buying a car has taught me anything, it's taught me that our God owns all the things in the world -- cars, men, houses, pots (cracked or uncracked)... whatever.  Not only that, but he's a big God who knows our needs and our pain, and he's right there with us, ready to give us just what we need at exactly the right time.

That's how I'll be ringing in 2013.

Light blue and destined to bless: Norma Jean

Today was the best story ever.  I could give you the bullet points but it wouldn't do it justice.  But first, a little context... well, maybe a lot of context.  Because no good story is ever complete without a healthy dose of it, let's be honest.

The car I have now, I have driven forever... or at least, what seems like forever.  In actuality, it's been about six years.  From its outset, this car has been destined to be a blessing to others.  It was given to me by some family friends whose mother passed away and willed it to them.  They didn't need it and had been praying about who they should give it to.  At the time, I was in college and desperate to move off campus in order to save money on my growing pile of student loans.  I barely had a dime to my name and had literally started praying that a car would fall from the sky.  Little did I know at that time that God was totally taking me seriously.  So of course it blew my mind when a 1992 Buick Le Sabre fell into my hands for the whopping sale price of $1.  It was a light blue grandma car with about 70,000 miles on it at the time but I didn't care.  It was the answer to prayer I'd been looking for.  I have literally driven that thing til today.  It has been such a good car:  a complete beast in snow and ice, hauling around not only half my teaching library, but also its fair share of music scores, camping equipment, and high schoolers to student ministry activities.  It's had coffee spilled in it and helped me move on multiple occasions, has survived an interstate blowout, an exploding coolant system, and rear-ended someone (due to my lack of attention... oops).  I had named her Norma because she reminded me very much of the lady who took care of me when I was a little girl... Norma, who owned and operated a family dairy farm, together with her adult siblings and her mother:  sturdy and ready to work with a hint of country in her.  I drove her all over Columbia while I was in school and now St. Louis for the past two and a half years.  These days, she just isn't getting the fuel economy I need her to and sadly, her reliability (at least for this pianist) has diminished significantly, particularly in the past year or two.  It's time to find a new home for her.

So I've been looking.  I started looking for a new car about mid-December.  What a process.  I can't tell you the number of slithery people I've talked to, nor the number of questionable cars I've test-driven.  Every morning I would get up, scan craigslist, search through cars.com and carsoup, and start making calls... it was mind-numbing and draining and exhausting.  At first I wanted a Jetta (and I eventually still do), but after taking one to my mechanic which turned out in every way to be just like the last guy I dated, I realized that now is probably not the right time to buy one.  Had I bought that car, I would've totally named it after him.  (sidenote:  one thing I will say, I have learned so much about dating, simply by going through the process of buying a used car.  There were days when the weight of looking for needles in haystacks in multiple areas of my life was not only overwhelming, but super discouraging...).  After the Jetta fiasco, I started looking at Altimas and Honda Accords, particularly at the advice of our mechanic, who is a trusted family friend.  Eventually I found one:  drives tight, no major problems, reasonably decent mileage, only 10 yrs old.  The catch?  Sticker price about $1500 more than I'm able (or want) to pay.  Eek!  Long story short, this morning my dad and I went to the dealership to talk turkey.  The car was still available and Dad had pre-coached me through the negotiation process.  He and some of his friends had also done some considerable research into this particular Accord, as well as 02 Accords in general.  We were so ready for this morning.  It took about three rounds of negotiations but we finally arrived at the right price -- exactly the amount that I was able to pay.  God is so good.  Dad thinks I could've gotten it for maybe $200 cheaper than I did, but he says I did well for my first time.  He would know.  He used to sell cars.

But this is the best part:  after we picked up the Accord and signed all the paperwork, I called my sister's boyfriend Will to let him know that it was time to sell the Buick.  Will had agreed to help me from the outset and since Dad had done a lot of the work in helping me test-drive and negotiate, I figured this was one area where Will could take the wheel (no pun intended.  Promise.  I hate puns) and sail through with flying colors.  I was praying for a good buyer -- someone who would use her well and not dissect her for parts or sell her to a scrap yard.  Will and I had agreed to sell the Buick for only the cost of the sales tax on the Accord.  Within an hour or less, Will texted to let me know that he had a buyer... it was a friend of his, a friend who's been out of work for awhile, whose family has been through its own share of pain and heartache, and really needs a car to help them out.  When I talked to Will later tonight, he indicated to me that this was no ordinary sale.  Once again, Norma is falling from the sky into the hands of someone who desperately needs her at just the right moment.  It makes my heart so happy it hurts...

God, you are so, so good.
  

yellow

In case you haven't noticed, it's been a while since I've been on the blog.  There have been a couple of reasons for this, mainly because I've been on an emotional roller coaster since moving in with Abby's parents.  And it's not because of them.  In a word:  boys.  Or more specifically, a boy.  And he walked out about as quickly as he walked in.  It was amazing while it lasted, but awful and horrendous in the end, which made the break-up surprisingly easy to deal with (or easier than I expected at least) because he turned out to be completely immature and unfit for a serious relationship.  You don't tell a girl you love her and talk about marriage and then act surprised if she takes you at your word.  Neither do you voice major fears, concerns, and doubts about the relationship within the first month of dating (while telling her you love her) and act surprised when she has a certain amount of anxiety that's feeding off the situation you've created.  Poor guy dug a hole for himself that he just couldn't get out of without turning coward.

I have kept telling God all along that I just can't deal with another heartbreak.  And he was totally faithful in sparing me because I have largely been more frustrated and angry than sad.  I suspect that I will grieve about it at some point later when I least expect it, but when you're treated in a such a manner, you're just glad when the truth finally comes out, the confusion is over, and you can move on with your life.  I honestly pity him... and the woman he ultimately ends up with.  If he learned his lesson at all and somehow changes because of it, then I will have done my job and considered it all worthwhile.  This isn't to say that I'm not hurt.  I'm just choosing to see the bigger picture instead.

Strange how someone can seem so perfect for you in so many ways and yet be completely wrong...

... and in all of this, I have found Beethoven to be extremely therapeutic the last couple of days, particularly the development section of the first movement of my sonata.  The development is short (i.e. a completely attainable goal) with lots of swirling left hand stuff to work through... purely a matter of time before I hardly give it a second thought.  Kind of like this break-up. 

lost to write-ins, independents, and non-voters

It's here.  The day we all groan together over the next four years.  And let's face it, we would have groaned either way.  Because neither candidate is really worth celebrating.

To show you what I mean, here is an excerpt from a text conversation yesterday with my dear friend Halley:

H:  "I still don't like either of the candidates..."
Me:  "Write in"
H:  "Hahaha.  Is that what you're going to do?"
Me:  "Yep.  Maybe I'll write in Big Bird.  Or Stephen Colbert."

I ended up writing in Ron Paul.  Halley is pregnant with her first and due any day now.  She ended up writing in her baby's name.

And I can think of countless others... friends of mine who are fed up with the system and choosing not to buy in, who wrote in a candidate or voted independent or just sat the election out.  Ours is the generation of what I would call conservative moderates.  Or maybe conservative libertarians.  Either way, it's those of us in the 22 - 35 age bracket who grew up with either super conservative or super liberal baby boomer parents, who have settled somewhere in the middle politically.  The current system is super broken.  It just isn't giving us what we want.  We're tired of it and we're not casting a vote to perpetuate the brokenness.

You may say that we wasted our votes last night.  But you know, when I'm shopping for a dress or a really great pair of jeans and I don't find what I want, I wait for something better.  I don't buy something I'm not convinced of.  I would say it's the same politically for us.  I'm no political strategist or statistician, but from what I know, countless votes were lost for both sides last night because thousands like yours truly just didn't believe in the candidates presented to us.  What my vote said yesterday was this:  "All you old white men with money and power who head up the partisan sides:  Give us something better.  We're not buying this."

And yeah, it didn't happen this election.  And maybe it won't happen next election either.  But eventually, third party ideas will become more mainstream and my generation will be able to vote our convictions in good conscience again.  Maybe we'll get excited about voting again instead of writing in someone like Gandalf... or worse, sitting the whole thing out.

I didn't waste my vote.  I refused to compromise my ideals. 

flow

A quick post this morning while I wait to go downstairs.  A couple of mornings now, I have trotted down the stairs to find myself right in the middle of Mike and Karen's morning Bible study together.  I'm always at a loss at what to do.  I certainly don't want to interrupt by heading to the pantry and starting a pot of coffee, especially if they're praying.  It's an awkward moment.  I'm sure I'll get used to it and figure out their routine, just as they will mine in due time of course... unless of course neither one of us has a set routine, which could turn out to be the case.  Going with the flow is a great skill, until your flow runs into another person's flow... and then there's too much flow going in equal and opposite directions.  It's a lot of flow.  Flow.

But seriously, in all actuality, these past few days have seen some of the funniest moments for me of the past few months.  Sunday was moving day, and so of course one or two of the freshman girls from student ministry at Central came to help me move... that is, came home from church with me and then I took them back later that night to youth group.  They are, in a word, some of the most hilarious creatures on the planet.  "Can we come house-shopping with you someday, Katie Beth?"  "When you get married, can we come to your wedding?"  "Seriously, how long did it take you to learn all of our names last year?" (Uh... the entire year)... "Katie Beth!  That is not ok for a mama!"  Not to mention all the antics they like to try while in traffic.  I have never seen so many astonished drivers sitting at stoplights next to me.  But I love them and they were a huge help.  They basically set up my entire room for me while I stood around talking to my family and bidding them farewell after the move.  And then they forbid me to bring my ficus tree (strung with white lights) upstairs to my room, claiming that it was a bad addiction and that I needed to quit the ficus.  You can't make this stuff up.

Yesterday I made my debut as a conductor at Lutheran High... I promise you, it was nothing huge.  But definitely funny.  There's one piece (a cappella) that Jen wants to sing the solo for during Chapel next week and since I won't have to play, she's asked me to conduct it instead.  She figures if the director of the St. Louis Chamber Chorus can step down from the podium and sing with his own choir, then so can she.  I'm just excited to actually use my Basic Conducting skills :)  But of course, being a pianist, the very first downbeat I give them, the entire choir bursts out laughing.  I can't help it... I prep with a sniff.  I always do... that's how I was taught to cue as a pianist.  Get over it and let's go.  It took two or three tries before they finally stopped laughing and then I gave a bad prep and did it once without sniffing, at which point they were completely confused and decided they absolutely couldn't come in without it anymore.  Lol.  High schoolers...

Today:  attempting to get back into my normal practice routine.  Spent the majority of yesterday's practice time catching up on accompanying stuff.  Then teaching three kids this afternoon, then Wednesday night youth group.  Long days, but I love them.  And I'm loving the weather here lately.  St. Louis in the fall is incomparable.

And somehow the Cards lost last night and still made the playoffs... here we go again.

oct 2

A quick post while I wait to meet my mom.  So many things have happened in the past week... so many good things, that is.  But this pianist is one exhausted girl.

For one thing, I moved... again... for the 5th time in two years.  We are officially out of the boy-lair and in with a couple of empty nesters whose seven kids are grown and gone (at the very least in college).  It is wonderful but my body is still adjusting.  Any time I make a major life transition, my body violently resists and turns its pure hatred on me in whatever form it so chooses.  This time it's sleeplessness... last night I got about five hours.  The average for the past week has been about six per night, give or take.  I really need about seven to seven-and-a-half to function in a loveable manner.  Less than ideal, but you do what you have to do.

Monday morning I got off facebook.  I didn't deactivate.  Between you and me, I will probably still check it now and then to keep up with people, but no commenting or status updates.  It's already really good because I'm forcing myself to be more intentional in real life with people I care about.  The only downside is that you can't be intentional with everyone, so I know there are (and will be) people who fall through the cracks.  I think Facebook can be really dangerous in that regard... giving us a false sense of security in our relationships.  I'll be interested to see what else my hiatus reveals.

Saturday we got the piano and the dining room table and chairs moved out of the boy-lair.  Holy cow, what a job.  But it was the smoothest I'd ever seen that instrument moved.  Eight guys and a truck showed up from my church and we were done within an hour and a half.  It is now properly installed in the Central Youth House where it will stay until it either dies or finds a new owner.  I am so relieved.

Today, I also got MY NEW MACBOOK in the mail today from my friend James.  I am super pumped.  He gave me a great deal on it and even sealed in a beautifully printed receipt for my business tax records.  I'm not typing from it just yet... it's still in its packaging and I am hesitant to open it when I have to teach in just another hour or so.  I would much rather wait until I have ample time to introduce myself to it properly, figure out its quirks, and start transferring stuff over.  Let's face it:  in the midst of a move and a new computer, it may be another three weeks before I am fully functional again.

More later.  Mom just rolled in...   

bold moves

Today is a packing day.  Waiting for my mom to get here this morning to help me... and when I say help, I actually mean sit in a chair nearby, reading a newspaper and quietly forcing me to get work done.  Because I am a procrastinator of the worst kind and we both know it.  Last night I called her in a moment of panic:  I look at my stuff, know it needs to get packed, and feel all the negative energy of not wanting to do it surge through my body like the Rebel Alliance.  So she is coming to hold my feet to the fire... while simultaneously holding my hand.  I know... it's ridiculous.  But we won't go there.  You do what you have to do.

I'm also seriously considering getting off facebook... at least for a while.  I've really come to realize that I use it for the wrong reasons, mostly because as a pianist, I spend the majority of my life in a cave, making facebook a primary point of contact with the outside world.  It isn't an inherently bad thing, but if left unchecked, I think it could become really unhealthy over time.  And I know it tends to become unhealthy for me at different times.  When you relate less to actual people, your ability to want to do that and to be able to do that well diminishes.  I've also come to realize that when I give up something or go without, I don't sit there wishing I had it back.  I just adjust and go on... i.e. I know how to manipulate myself back into a proper state of human relation.  And it's not just about me.  I honestly think it's high time we got away from the computer and started relating to each other properly once again.  I realize that the more I put on facebook, the less people may actually feel inclined to relate to me personally.  They don't need to ask about anything because they know everything already.  It's honestly ridiculous what social media has done to us.  If people want to call me, they can call.  If they want to email, they can email.  Or check the blog.  Or heaven forbid, write me a letter.  But this business of putting everything out there all the time for an entire public square to see and comment on... I think it only puffs up our personal sense of importance and isolates us even more than we may already feel.  I know that I will seek out the friends I truly care about more intentionally without it.

And yes, part of it is that I feel like I'm letting out too much of my own information and I want to regain control of that.  But I also think about many people whom I greatly admire and respect that aren't on facebook and have spent their entire lives without it.  And they are some of the wisest and most gracious human beings I know.

It's a bold move, but I think I'm ready for it...

pause

As much as I would love to brush this under the rug and just go practice this morning, I know I need to get it out.  Sometimes my blog is one of the primary ways in which I feel heard... by who?  I have no idea.  I just know that I need to 1. write it out (my favorite music theory professor always used to say that writing is thinking... yes, yes, yes:  he is beyond right) and 2. feel like I'm heard, even if it's a complete illusion.  At the very least, my grandma.  She is the one faithful reader I'm always sure of.  I'm pretty sure she checks here every day.  Thank for doing that, Grandma.  I hope you know how much that means to me.

Last night I found out that the empty-nesters I'm moving in with found out suddenly and surprisingly that several of their family members are coming into town for several days next weekend.  Because of this new development, they've asked me to postpone moving til a few days later or the following weekend.  It would be a lie to say that I'm ok with this.  Slightly disappointed and saddened is more like it.  There are good things -- extra time to pack and organize the logistics of the move, both of which I have totally struggled with recently, as well as getting my full month's rent out of the current place I'm in.  But mostly it means two more weeks with the guys instead of just one.  Le sigh... and groan.

I've also been thinking a lot about England lately.  My friends who moved there, the Griggs, have been faithfully posting so many wonderful things about their adventures in getting settled in a new country.  It brings back so many sweet memories of my stay there six years ago... and it makes me want to go back so, so bad.  I can't tell yet if it's because I'm frustrated with certain things here or if it's because I really want to go back.  Probably a healthy dose of both.

My brother randomly came home this weekend.  Picked him up at the train station in Kirkwood Saturday night at midnight (two hours later than it should've been because of a train delay).  We went back to my place, got about five or six hours of sleep, got up, and left again at 7:30 the next morning so I could go play for the Lutherans at Orchard Farm.  Then we went back to my church for the 11:15 service.  It was definitely an adventure and I was glad he was able to come home and be with me for a day.  I wish he was here more often... but then I would never get anything done.  And he would never settle down to the hard work of growing up.  It's definitely better that he's in school right now.

Finished "The Voyage Out."  Definitely one of the most anti-climactic endings of a book ever written.  Totally confirms my analysis in my last post.  Picked up "Mere Christianity" by C.S. Lewis, since we're going through certain parts of it in our senior high student ministry this fall.  It is already refreshing and mind-blowing.

Practice this morning, rehearsal at Lutheran, then three students.  Still so much to figure out right now.  I guess I should be happy my professional life is mostly under control... mostly.  Sometimes a good night's sleep can change everything.  But sometimes it just feels like you're putting reality on pause.  That is definitely the case right now.

a lot on my mind... and Virginia

There's been a lot on my mind lately.  Good thing it's a lazy morning and I have time to (somewhat) sift through a bunch of it.  Thoughts running through my head this morning...

- I'm moving.  In a week.  And I haven't done a single thing to start packing.
- Purging.  I'm going to have to purge some stuff.  I've acquired quite the little one-person household's worth of stuff in the past year or so and I'm moving into the equivalent of a bedroom and a bathroom... if that.
- Some friends of mine wanted to see if they could help me move my bed, dresser, and personals this weekend... logistically, I am so not ready.  Oops...
- Thankful for the cooler weather.  This morning when I woke up, it was like 60 degrees and rainy.  So, so, so thankful.
- I have student requests coming out my ears.  In the past week alone, I've been approached by three different families with eight kids combined who want lessons.  That's in addition to the twelve I already have.  Holy cow.
- Regardless of work and urges to pack in the back of my mind, all I want to do is practice.  I started working on new rep this fall and I'm in love with it.  I basically have the equivalent of a school-girl crush on my Bach Partita... [insert robot voice]:  "Take me to your piano..."
- I'm realizing that I am such an introvert.  Much more than I ever realized.  Wondering how I'm going to fit in with a couple of extroverted empty-nesters in my temporary new home...
- In light of my brother being gone now, I'm also realizing that my mom is such an extrovert.  It has really been hard on her to not have anyone in the house.  And she's realizing the same about me... that we're not who we thought the other was.  It's been another phase of adjustment.

Also, oddly enough, not that this has anything to do with any of the actual stuff going on in my life right now, but I've been thinking a lot lately about the book I'm close to finishing.  I'm roughly two chapters from the end in Virginia Woolf's "The Voyage Out" and it has been the hardest book I've ever read in my life.  It's taken me twice as long to finish it as it should have.  Simultaneously boring and stressful, it's the story of Rachel Vinrace, the daughter of a ship's captain who sails to South America on her father's boat, along with her aunt, uncle, and several other people.  Once she gets to S. America, she stays there with her aunt and uncle and falls in love with another Englishman, Terence, who's there on holiday as well.  They eventually become engaged and [SPOILER] shortly thereafter, she gets sick and dies.  All along the way, the characters miss each other in communication and continually contemplate the meaning of it all... why do we get married anyway?  What does it really mean to fall in love?  What does society expect from women?  How do we know that we're actually communicating with anyone or that other people understand us at all?  How do we deal with the fact that we often feel like singular creatures in a vast universe, unable to really communicate with anyone else?  When I started the book, the premise of it seemed quite entrancing, and so I kept reading, hoping I would eventually get to the good part.  But it never came.  Yesterday I voiced much of my frustration on facebook, which was actually a very therapeutic process because it forced me to get it all out and go back to square one.  As in, what is Virginia getting at in this ridiculous story of which nothing truly good or interesting happens and nobody understands each other??

And what I came to was this:  This book is a parody of life.  It's a mirror of us and society and Virginia doesn't have any answers for us.  She just wants us to ask the same questions that the characters ask and wrestle with them ourselves.  This is particularly evident in her treatment of Rachel's death and the way the other characters react to it in the days following.  Virginia doesn't end the book with Rachel's death... she ends it with an outcry of frustrated questions from the other characters as to what it all means, as well as the continuation of the mundane at both the hotel and the villa where the story is set.  The entire book is one big, fat, rhetorical question contemplating the dark loneliness of the human experience and the search for meaning within it.  Virginia asks us to wrestle with those hard questions and then tells us, "Well, the thing is... we don't actually know what it all means or what the purpose is, but somehow, life goes on..."  Cool.  Thanks for that, girl...

... and yet, I am so glad that I'm going to finish it.  Not only do I feel a personal sense of triumph and growth in struggling through such a hard book, but I also feel like what she has to say is both relevant and valid.  How many people do you know that are asking the same questions today with the same lack of hope?  I don't know about you, but so many people that I come into contact with are right there with her... and if not, they're on the edge.  Everyone is just trying to keep their head above water, to not get bogged down in the deep undercurrent of despair that our culture is facing in the midst of this economic struggle.

And yet, we have hope.  For those who believe in him, we can rest in the assurance of being unified to Christ.  No matter what happens or what struggles we face, he came for us and looks on us as sons and daughters.  And he will come for us again one day at the end, when all questions will be answered and we'll rest in glory.  But our greatest gift in the face of questions and hardship isn't the process of living or the oasis to come.  It's the presence of Christ, given to us both now and in eternity.  We may not understand everything, but we do have hope.  And it's found in the person of Jesus.

"For he who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all -- how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things?"    

Nick

There's my baby brother... hitting the books hard :)

better

A quick post so I don't leave you, the reader in a place of despair per my last posting...

I found a place to live, and a good one at that.  I am super relieved beyond imagination.  I can't tell you how much less anxiety I've dealt with the past few days, knowing I have somewhere to go (and in less than three weeks).  About a week and a half ago, I posted something about "things I'm not really interested in" dealing with regarding a living situation on facebook; there was an entire list of about 8-10 things (i.e. living with boys, or dramatic girls, or people I work with, or moving across the river into St. Charles), and within an hour or less, the mom of one of my old girlfriends from college commented, asking if I'd want to live in their basement.  We took some time, thought about it, and then met on Monday to hash out the details.  I think it's going to be a really good situation, whether temporary or longer-term.  They are empty-nesters of seven kids and from what I can tell, it seems like they're just looking for a third personality to balance things out between the two of them.  Plus, they're really wonderful people and have a firm desire to see me get out of a living situation with three guys... thankful doesn't even describe it.  My anxiety levels are once again in a controllable state.  I foresee that in another month or so, Katie will be back to her usual coffee-driven self.  And if you've been praying about this issue (ahem... Grandma), then you have all my thanks in the world and many hugs coming your way the next time I see you :)

I did meet the new male roommate.  I think he's finally over trying to impress me.  The first couple of days, he was really sweet and friendly.  And then he started putting his Cocoa Krispie bowls in the dishwasher with Krispies stuck to them and leaving his shaving stuff all over the vanity in the bathroom.  After a day or two, I started seeing less of him and for better or worse, our bathroom now officially smells like a man.  It's one thing to live with all of that when you're related to a guy or married to him, but I've gotta be honest, when there's no love and no sex, it's just downright annoying and ridiculous.  And of course, I still lock my door at night.

Less than three weeks, guys.  Less than three weeks...

And I am sick to death of this election.  Already.  So tired of opinions flying everywhere.  The other day, I pulled up to a student's house and there was a huge Obama sign tied between two trees right there in their front yard... to the tune of billboard-sized.  Just a subtle tribute to the Democratic National Convention, right?  No big deal.  The next day, I went to another student's house, walked in, the DNC was on the television, and both the mom and my student gave me a 10-minute spiel about why Romney is the better choice and I need to vote Republican.  Little do any of them know their poor piano teacher is completely disillusioned with both sides.  I absolutely do not care what anyone thinks regarding either candidate because nothing they say can convince me that either side is the better pick.  I'll just be glad when it's over and we can all groan together at the thought of the next four years.

three boys

A quick post this morning.  I'm giving myself five minutes to write because I just need to.  I've been really out of touch with myself lately, mostly because I've been stressed out beyond all measure.  And of course, when you're in a hard spot, everything is painful... even things that shouldn't be painful, purely by default of where you're at alone.

I'm currently in the process of getting out of my house.  After this weekend, I'll be living with three boys.  That's right.  Three.  My female roommate is moving out and "Ben the new roommate" is moving in.  I'll spare you the gory details but the other morning when I found a beer can in the bathroom, my initial thought was, "Ughhh! Gross!!!" followed by the next thought of "I have got to get out of here..."

Underneath that layer is the far more painful one of knowing why I'm in this situation in the first place i.e. still not having found the right person, married successfully, and settled down.  Now that I write that out, it looks completely ridiculous, and yet it is still an ache in my gut that I have to address daily and talk/pray myself through, one hour at a time.

And of course (albeit TMI), my fissure has opened up again due to all the stress I've been under.  Cool.  

I absolutely hate this.  I hate being the one who "needs lots of prayers."  I want to be the happy, self-sufficient one who no one has to worry about.  I want to be the one who can handle my issues, even when they're big ones.  Pretty sure that's why I've been out of touch with myself lately.  Every time I look inside myself, all I see is pain and heartache and I'm tired of dealing with it.

Sometimes the wrestling is too much... I mean, what do you pray when you're that overwhelmed?  Dear God, I cannot deal with myself or my issues right now.  Please change something.

desert life

It's been a while.  There are reasons for this, which I won't go into.  Nothing crazy, just felt like I needed some time away from the blog for a while, among other things.  I meant to post pictures of Yosemite, which Edwina and I visited during my last weekend in California.  And it was truly amazing.  All the things you ever hear about the park and all the pictures you ever see... well, they don't quite do it justice.  You just have to go there and see it for yourself.  They say that the glories of Europe are found in its old architectural structures -- castles, bridges, museums.  The glories of America are found in its national parks, of which Yosemite is a gem.  Someday I really will post pictures, but not today.

This morning I sit here, post early-morning walk, exploring the boundaries of human smell.  I've been in the same clothes for the past 48 hours with only a rinse-off shower yesterday morning, mainly because Saturday afternoon, after we packed up my brother and his stuff into my parents' cars, I made the snap decision to go early with Mom and Nick and stay in the hotel, rather than drive over myself the following morning.  If you're just tuning in, this weekend my baby brother went away to college.  So here it is Monday, and I'm still in the same clothes I was wearing Saturday morning.  I took nothing with me, other than the clothes I was wearing, my purse (which, granted has a fair amount of essentials, including my phone and the car charger, as well as the cold meds I'd been taking all this past week), my Nalgene, the box of tissues I've been carrying around for the past week, and the newspaper I'd bought Thursday that I'd left in my car.  And I was wearing my glasses, so I didn't have to worry about contacts.  I am so glad I went with them.  It made it a lot easier to say good-bye to my brother, having been part of the trip, as well as having taken a big roadtrip with him and my mom the previous weekend to Nebraska.  I think I also just see the reality of the fact that he's ready to be in college, which helps me let go a little easier.  It still hurts and I will still miss him.  But it turns out the anticipation was worse than the actual event.

What doesn't help is the fact that I said good-bye to my brother at the end of what turned out to be the longest week of the year thus far... maybe the longest week since the horrendous events of last summer.  I was sick all week with a cold given to me by my mom last weekend, had to take my car to the mechanic on Monday, got it back on Wednesday, paid $200 to have it fixed, only to accidentally rear-end some lady the next day, then said good-bye to some dear friends (the Griggs) who are moving to the UK in the next couple of weeks.  Then we took my brother to school.  Oh yeah, and then I experienced fresh disappointment over a guy who I thought might be the tiniest bit interested in me and turns out totally isn't, at least not from what I can tell... and I feel like I'm pretty intuitive when it comes to that.  We've all seen "He's Just Not That Into You...".  Let me tell you, I live it.  It's why I end up living in a cave most of the time.  It's just easier because then I don't have to deal with the frustration and disappointment of having even the tiniest hopes dashed by some guy who's "just not ready" or can't figure out what he wants.  My friend Jimmy says it's because I don't dress like I'm trying to compete for guys' attention.  He says that guys take one look at me and know they aren't going to get very far.  And he's absolutely right.  I have bigger and better things to worry about than whether or not I'm showing off enough of the girls, if you know what I mean.  I'm a professional, out to educate people in the arts and I don't need to do that.  Not to mention that I'm so over dating.  Either way, I'm a freakin' dime and I don't know what their problem is.  And then I came home last night to find that one of my roommates' drunk friends had slept in my bed over the weekend and left my room in total disarray.  I was beyond pissed.  It's a bloody miracle I didn't wake the whole house up.  It wouldn't surprise me if I actually did.

A couple of things occur to me this morning:  All week as this has been building up to be the perfect storm, I have kept asking the question "Why?"  What is this for?  I don't understand.  But you know, it's not really mine to ask why.  Who's to say why it's happening?  Who's to say how God is using it to shape me into the person he wants me to be?  Who's to say that it actually has anything to do with anything?  Sometimes shit just happens, and that's what you have to chalk it up to.  Because otherwise you'll drive yourself crazy.  I'm sure that somehow, cosmically in the universe, it all has something to do with something.  But I can't contemplate that.  It won't do me any good, nor will it make me feel any better to give myself some sense of false hope that it's because something good is about to happen.  All I can do is go through it as best I can, share the pain with those I trust, leave it behind, cling to the Savior, ask for his peace, and pray for better.

I have also realized that it's time to leave this house.  In addition to dating, I am so over living with boys I'm not related to or in love with.  It's time to go.  I don't know where I'm going or when but I will be leaving just as soon as I can get my act together.  In the meantime, I hope they both get the cold I've had all week.  And I hope the cough lingers for an additional two.

My friend Laura posted the following verse on her facebook the other day.  I've come back to it several times since then:  "But as for me, I will hope continually, and will praise Thee yet more and more. My mouth shall tell of Thy righteousness, and of Thy salvation all day long; For I do not know the sum of them." Ps. 71:14-15

It's a lot of loss.  And I feel really overwhelmed by it all, especially since it all came at once.  But when I think about this verse, I'm continually struck by its truth.  I've come to realize over the past couple of months that I'm living in the middle of a freakin' desert at this point in my life right now (and have been for a while).  And desert life is so hard.  

But I will choose to hope continually... for I do not know the sum of them. 

Whoa, California: Part III

Things that we do differently in California:
1. wear sunscreen every. day.
2. hang your laundry out to dry
3. ride a bike every. where.
4a. wear layers or 4b. change clothes 3 times/day or 4c. suck it up when it's cold in the morning/evening
5. eat what's in season

Things that we don't do:
1. sweat
2. use the dryer
3. drive a car if unnecessary
4. shop at big chain grocery stores
5. turn on the AC
6. drink from the tap (because we're in the Central Valley and we don't want to end up like Erin Brokovich)

It's wonderful, but you know, I actually kinda miss St. Louis... the humidity, the just-kind-of-ok produce, the allergies, the lower rates of alzheimers, the highways and traffic. I'll be glad to get back :) 

After I hike up the Half Dome, that is...

Lewis

The following link was a delight to find in my facebook newsfeed this morning, per Robbie Griggs, the father of the family I've become good friends with who are moving to England this August.

Such a lovely little read.  Lewis was truly a sweet, wonderful man...

C.S. Lewis' Letters to Children: On Writing

Whoa, California: Part II

11 am PST with a lovely morning to look back on.  Ironically, my phone refuses to switch from CST to PST and therefore, when I set my alarm for 8 am this morning, I ended up waking at 6 am here.  I got up, caught up on email, and went for a delightful little run in the chilly California morning air as I headed towards a fantastic mountain vista in the distance, after which I freshened up a bit and Edwina and I headed out towards the Davis Farmer's Market... on bikes, of course.  My sweet Missouri piano-teacher tush is slowly getting used to the fact that it has to sit on a hard bike seat at least once or twice a day.  Probably more than you want to know, but it is what it is.  As Edwina says, "You're in Davis now, Katie.  Your ass is just going to hurt for a week or so..."  I also figured out how to snuggle my Starbucks cold cup between my shoulder-bag strap and my body so that I can still enjoy my iced coffee at stop signs and traffic lights during my new morning commute without spilling it in my bag or holding it the entire way :)  Edwina is a pro though.  She conducts half of her daily business on her cell phone while riding her bike, which is quite unfathomable to me.

The Farmer's Market:  Whoa.  I have never tasted peaches so sweet, as if the farmer injected them with sweetener before bringing them to market.  Then we got distracted by the Greek stand where I ate half my morning breakfast in falafel and hummus samples at the urging of the stand owner.  Whoa.  They know how to do food here and they aren't shy about it.  It is amazing and marvelous and ridiculous, which is one thing about Missouri that I have to concede:  by comparison, our food is just kind of ok for the most part.  In most cases, we have to work hard to make it truly extraordinary, although we do make wonderfully nice dessert wines out of seemingly random fruits (like blackberries and strawberries)... we're kind of forced to be resourceful in that way since we can't all have grapes growing outside our front doors.  Here, everything is just naturally incredible on its own, especially when it's in season.  And I asked Bobby and Edwina about why that is (which, they would know, since they're both studying specialized agricultural sciences here) and from what they tell me, it seems it all has to do with rainfall.  Before he came to UC Davis, Bobby spent significant amounts of time farming and gardening in Missouri and he says that the soil in both places is essentially the same (clay), but that in California, the farmers know it won't rain.  For instance, in Missouri, we store our hay in barns since the weather there changes like the tides of the female mind but here they just stack their hay bales (or alfalfa) out in the field because the likelihood of it randomly opening up and pouring down is extremely slight.  Incredible.

Oh yeah... and here, rosemary grows in hedges... like everywhere.  The people here who buy rosemary in markets must be completely out to lunch since they could walk out their front door and trim it off the hedge down the street, where it would go completely unnoticed.  I also tried my first boysenberries here the other day.  Holy cow, someone needs to make wine out of that...

One thing that does strike me as strange about this place is the people.  California really is the land of fruits, nuts, and flakes... truly, there's a reason that joke exists.  The people in Davis are very nice and extremely down-to-earth, very much like the people in Columbia.  But whoa, San Francisco:  holy cow, that city is full of strange people.  Being there even for a day made me feel totally vanilla in comparison.  I used to think that people in St. Louis were really authentic and down-to-earth, which they are... to a point.  But I realize now that people in my town can be somewhat guarded in certain ways, which I think is actually good and healthy sometimes.  It took me a while to adapt to that mentality when I first moved back after undergrad, but I now have a lot of respect for it and feel it's a lot easier to live and exist as a self-employed professional while operating in that mode.  Business is business, personal is personal... and not everybody needs to know about the personal either.  There's dignity in keeping the vault closed to most people.  In San Francisco, if outer appearances are any indication of what's going on inside, it seems that everyone is on a perpetual quest to find themselves and in all sorts of unconventional ways, which is extraordinarily interesting (and I daresay hard?, considering what I come from...) to observe as an outsider, to say the least.  I think I would rather live in a town full of people who think I'm crazy, rather than live in a town where everyone else seems to be crazy.  But I speak in a horrible digression of terms which are completely relative... these are purely my own observations and speculations as a casual traveler, for what they're worth, if anything at all.

Not entirely sure, but "Moonrise Kingdom" looks like it might be on the docket today, since Bobby and Edwina haven't seen it yet.  Edwina has also switched me over from Tevas to Chacos:  she gave me a pair for my birthday.  They are wonderful and I think more durable than my Tevas (which I can easily wear through in two summers) and I feel crunchier than ever when I wear them :)

More whoa to come from this mind-blowing part of the country:  See you soon.

Whoa, California: Part I

Whoa:  California.  This is the best word I can think of to sum it up best.

I got here late Tuesday night, picked up from the airport an hour and a half after my plane landed, seeing as how my friend Edwina (who is one of my dearest friends from the music school at Mizzou) and her boyfriend Bobby got back late from hiking in Yosemite.  Go figure.  We've hit the ground running ever since.  With relatives still here from South Africa (a cousin, an aunt, and two adorable little-boy second cousins) for her graduation from UC-Davis with her masters, Edwina piled all of us into a rental van Wednesday morning and off we went to San Francisco for the day.

Again:  Whoa.

The scenery and the weather here are, well... amazing.  Edwina and Bobby (whom I'm also good friends with from our time together at Mizzou) complain about it being hot, but compared to Missouri summers, it is absolutely divine.  Even though it's in the upper 80's and lower 90's during the day, it's soooo dry.  And there's almost always a breeze blowing.  And in San Francisco (by the bay), when the north wind whips in off the Pacific, you really almost feel... cold for a second, until it lets up and you feel the sunshine again.  It's really the strangest sensation.  Hot-cold, hot-cold, hot-cold.  I sometimes feel like a 26-yr-old menopausal woman.

In the midwest, all the fields are the same:  wheat, soybeans, or corn.  Here, I had trouble recognizing the first field we drove by.  And there are soooo many kinds of crops:  almonds, walnuts, tomatos, apricots, oranges, alfalfa, olives, cherries... yesterday we bought cherries for $1.59 / lb.  Incredible.  And the sunset last night was unfathomable.  Holy cow.  The house we're staying in has a grapevine slowly making it's way along the courtyard arbor just outside the front door.  And Davis has all sorts of bike paths all over the place, which makes it super easy to get around without driving.  Today, I had a lovely mile-and-a-half ride into town to meet my gracious hosts and a relative or two for lunch.  And oh yeah... it was fabulous.  I've never been any place like this before.  It is, in a word, incredible.

Yesterday I had lunch next to the Pacific at Fisherman's Wharf, after which we went down to the old arcade where I played on a baseball game machine from 1937.  The game was unique in that it kept track of strikes, balls, and outs, and had all the names of the original players from the Yankee's World Series line-up from the year it was made.  So. cool.

After that, we went to Ghirardelli's... you know, the chocolate company.  Their factory / main headquarters is in San Francisco.  And I had quite possibly the world's largest and richest hot fudge sundae ever.  Edwina and I shared it, it being too big for either of us alone.  Then we drove through the Golden Gate:  wow.  It's even better in person than it is in the pictures.  The following picture does not do it justice.  They say it's never done being painted.  Apparently there's a crew of 30 or so people and all they do is paint the bridge.  As soon as it's done on one side, they go back through and paint it all again.  Wow.

It was roughly 7 pm by the time we got up there, and because of this 1. we got to see the fog start to roll in and 2. it was SUPER windy and cold.  Felt like Missouri in March.  Again:  whoa.  I definitely did not expect that one.

Oh yeah... and we saw Alcatraz from a distance.  Edwina says we'll go back again before I leave so we can go in.  And not only did we see Alcatraz, but we saw all kinds of busy activity that comes with being next to a bay.  My favorite was the huge container ships that came in carrying literally hundreds of railway containers on board.  This particularly hits home for me since my family has lived a block away from a train track for the past eight years and I've seen countless railway cars go through Old Monroe.  The thought that they all get put on a ginormous ship and sail across the ocean absolutely blows my mind.  I literally feel like I've followed them here from Old Monroe to see what the end of the track looks like for them.

This morning all but one of Edwina's relatives left.  And so the whirlwind is over for the moment, but quite interesting while it lasted, seeing as how at least half of all yesterday's conversation was in Afrikaans, which I only ever understood the gist of when combined with hand gestures and a few choice words here and there.  So. interesting.  I spent half the day in my own world, wondering what was happening around me.  And some of the cultural differences are incredible.  But they are wonderful people and I have a standing invitation to go to South Africa whenever.  Bobby wants to go there and be the first person to ever ride a giraffe, which I find completely hilarious since not only is there sure to be someone who's done that already, but also because the spine of a giraffe is a strict diagonal.  But he's determined.  I just think going would be an extraordinary adventure in and of itself.  But we'll see... here we are at Fisherman's Wharf yesterday.

Whoa, California.  Mind blown in only two days.  And still two weeks to go :)

moonrise kingdom

Here is my latest obsession.  Really, really want to go see this sometime soon... the problem is finding someone who'll go with me.

Moonrise Kingdom.  Directed by Wes Anderson.  So. excited.

You can find the St. Louis Riverfront Times review of it HERE.

stuff

"I'm sorry, I can't hear you for the jackhammer in the next room..."

"Katie, do you want this?  It's been in our family now for 35 years..."

The last day and a half or so, I've been at my Mom's house.  A couple of months ago, she and Dad sold our building to a new owner, who is renovating half of it into rental units for other tenants.  We've been dragging our feet in cleaning everything out, partly because of my semester, partly because of tax season for mom, partly because Nick graduated this spring, and partly because we just didn't want to deal with any of it and didn't know where we were going to put half of it.  I come from a family of hoarders.  But the time has come:  the construction crew is here.  We are literally cleaning out while they jackhammer and put on a new roof next to us.

And I feel like I'm at a huge garage sale in the line of family memorabilia and general crap.  I've become really convicted over the sheer volume of STUFF in the last six months and I'm ready to let a lot of it go.  Because about 75% of it needs to.

There's been a lot of sorting.  It's extremely draining.  Do I really want a ginormous dry erase board for my own personal use?  Well, I might use it once.  Stress on the word might.  So the answer is no.  I have nowhere to put it and maybe useful once does not justify keeping it.

And it's like that.  Over and over again with this trunk or that box of stuff.  What about our old bikes?  The tires are flat and I have a nicer one at my house.  I never ride my old one.  There's our childhood Easter baskets.  Those stay... put them in the new storage room.  Here's another four or five boxes of old music... what do we do with it?  What about the painting that Dad commissioned for Mom when they got engaged?  Neither one of them want it.  Lordy...

You get the point.

Yesterday I spent six hours or so going through roughly ten years' worth of my own memorabilia.  I finally pared it down to about five or six boxes that are now stored in my old closet.  Thank God I had sorted through most of my stuff from childhood prior to that or I'd still be at it today.

And Mom and Dad are both here.  Sorting.  Making decisions.  Mom wants to pitch.  Dad wants to keep.  And if Dad can't keep something, he wants to give it to one of us kids.  Oy...

I think we should just take all of it to the dumpster, call it day, and play Dominion.

However, my brother did find a collage of drawings from when he was in middle school. Amongst his doodles were depictions of Jamie from Mythbusters, an Apache helicopter, a rainbow, the US Marine Corps symbol, a bunny, the One Ring, Han Solo in carbonite, a moose, and a coat of arms he designed with the initials LNS in the center (for Lord Nicholas Smith).

That is sooo going on the fridge.

middle school camp

I am officially out of food in my refrigerator and pantry.  This morning I'm having the simplest breakfast possible:  gluten-free toasted bread and two boiled eggs because there's simply nothing else to eat.  I was so tired last night, I forgot to make iced coffee and put it in the fridge to cold-brew overnight.  I mean, seriously... I forgot to make coffee.  And this last week, no joke, I wore the same shorts every day for five days straight.  And last night I slept for eight and a half hours and it was the most glorious thing ever.

Which begs the explanation to all this.  I give you three words:  middle school camp.

That's right, this past week I had the privilege of spending five epic days with a bunch of middle school girls since my church, along with six other churches in the St. Louis area, got together and put on this camp for the middle school kids in their congregations, with yours truly along for the ride as a counselor.  In all honesty, it really was very good.  We bonded a lot and the girls bonded a lot amongst themselves, which is what myself and the other leaders wanted to see.  And let me just tell you:  my girls had questions.  Lots of questions.  Serious questions.  The speaker talked a lot about the story of Jacob throughout the week... about Jacob's relationships with Laban and Rachel and Leah, but mostly about how Jacob wrestled with God.  We talked about how we wrestle with God in our lives -- intellectually, emotionally, and the performance mentality that many kids grow up with in the church (i.e. I grew up as a Christian, therefore I'm expected to go to church, read my Bible, and pray in order to be ok with God).  They think that they have a relationship with God because their parents do and because they go to church, when in reality all they're doing is conforming to a list of expectations.  But the speaker really wanted to encourage them to learn how to make their faith their own.  Most of the girls in my group had really deep, intellectual questions... we went on crazy digressions during our small group time.  We talked about things like predestination and unconditional love and the character of God and how when Jacob wrestled with God, it was similar to Jesus wrestling with God in the Garden of Gethsemane and what that means in terms of our Savior being able to identify with us and why it's ok to wrestle with God and how that's actually a really important part of your walk with him.  And the great thing is... they got it.  They had lightbulbs going off left and right and it was awesome.
  
A lot of other things happened this week too:  one of my girls had a serious problem with a certain instance where I exerted my authority (in her best interest of course) the last day or two, I was offered an internship at my church to work with student ministry, and I found one of my long-lost friends from Mizzou who literally lives down the street from me now and goes to the church I run past on my running route (six months I've been here and never knew...).  Needless to say, it was an eventful week and I now remember why I disliked that season of my life so much when I was that age.  There was actually a girl in my group who was very much like me when I was her age... one who won't grow into herself until she's 25 or 30.  But the kids need people to come alongside and mentor them.  And I am happy to do it in small doses.

So of course, after such an epic week, the first thing I did when I got home yesterday was take a nap and go see Othello with John and Megan in Forest Park.  Right?  An epic ending to an epic week.  With wine.

And so now I am home and seriously ready to recooperate.  Today will be a quiet catch-up day, thankfully.  I'll start practicing again on Monday.

And I declined the internship.  Because, you know, I'm a pianist.  And as much as I love working with the kids, I definitely feel called to my work as a musician.  And I would really miss it if I sort of made a hard left in my career path suddenly.  Ironically, one of the morning seminars this week was on story... i.e. what makes a good story and the story of your life and how we co-author it with God.  We also talked about names and how God renamed certain characters in the Bible (like Jacob) as they walked through their story, and how ultimately he will rename us one day too (Rev 2:17), which made me think a lot about my name and my story.  And I'm still trying to figure out what exactly my name means in terms of my story (and vice versa)... there is a lot that will yet be revealed.  But I definitely know what I'm not, which is ministry in the traditional sense.  If I were meant for that, I would've been a man and my parents would have named me after three of the most famous theologians / writers / pastors in the church (Calvin Bunyan Spurgeon Smith would have been my name).  But my mom didn't want her child named that.  And so she prayed for a girl.  And God evidently agreed :)

more growing pains

I know, I know.  You read the title of this post and think to yourself, "Really Katie??  Again?  Seriously, make it stop!!"  Yes, well... today was a make-it-stop kind of day.  Today I literally had one of those moments where I could have kicked myself... and I've been kicking myself  ever since it happened.  One of those moments where you want to forgive yourself, but you're just going to have to let some time pass before you feel ok again.

It was one of those moments where I should have known better.  I was cornered by a woman who I've allowed myself to get into scrapes with before and with whom I should have been more on my guard.  But I was tired and hungry... nearly dizzy with hunger because I hadn't eaten and we got into conversation and she just kept asking questions... leading questions, that is.  Looking back, I feel like I was sitting there in a counseling session I hadn't paid for.  And before I knew it, I was telling her things about my family and the family of a very dear friend of mine that I had no business mentioning.  I could blame this woman for her lack of taste and appropriateness, but it was just as much my own fault for opening the damn vault to her.  It makes me so sick to think about it.  I don't think I said anything devastating... I hope I didn't, anyway.  But I honestly don't remember much about the specifics, it all happened so fast.  I so wish I had just kept my big fat trap shut.  It happened at a party and I left within an hour of arriving when I could have easily stayed three or four.  The whole episode was so unsettling, especially since I knew within a moment or two when I had gone too far.  I began to feel claustrophobic and immediately went to my friend to tell her what had happened and how I had dishonored both of our families by talking about what was nobody else's business but our own.  I think she must have been distracted by the atmosphere of the party because she shrugged it off, even though I still feel horrible about it.  I only hope there was no permanent damage.  It makes me angry to think about it... angry at that woman, and the situation, and myself for letting it get so out of hand.  My only consolation is the knowledge that when things like this have happened before (because let's face it, this isn't the first time), they usually aren't as bad as I think they are, and the Lord totally uses my guilt and misery over it to change my heart and my behavior for the better... for at least a little while.  And I inevitably learn a little more about how to manage myself.

Growing pains.  Yuck.

It also makes me sick to think about it because even though my family and I have really struggled with each other recently and over the past year (whether they are aware of it in certain ways or not), they are truly wonderful.  Yesterday my brother and I were out and about when my car battery died and my dad came to help us immediately, no questions asked.  He came, he took the battery out, he took us to get a replacement, and then he took us back to the car to install it himself.  And he was amazingly kind and patient throughout the whole thing.  It was really the most beautiful experience.

And here I am, opening what should be a closed vault regarding familial issues to someone who doesn't know me and doesn't have any interest in me, aside from distant speculation and downright nosiness.  Ugh, Katie... !  So not even pretty...

Jesus, please help me.  Help me to rest in the knowledge that you have forgiven me already and that those I've wounded love me dearly and are ready to forgive me too.  Help me to forgive myself and stop being miserable when it's already a thing of the past, as far as the east is from the west in your eyes.

Something I've really realized lately is that in addition to struggling to keep my mouth shut at certain times, I really suck when it comes to mercy.  As in, it is truly a gift from the Lord when I am able to be merciful and compassionate towards someone.  Especially if that someone is a loved one.  ESPECIALLY if that someone is me.  I am so hard on everyone around me, not excluding myself.  And I could sit here and try to justify it by saying that it's because I've been through so much and had to overcome so much on my own, but really, it's just a nasty character flaw...

... and I really hate it.  It needs to start improving immediately.  As in, like yesterday...

resetting the compass

Some days you're forced to grow up by 5 or 10 years.  Holy cow, it feels like death.  Suddenly you're out there and you realize afresh that all the safety nets you thought you had in your hands were only illusions after all.  It's on days like that when I pray that Jesus would take me home to be with him.  Growing pains, simply put, are the. worst.

I also think that being in your 20s must be the worst.  Growing up sucks big time.  e.e. cummings wasn't lying...

Maybe that's why I identify so much with the middle school kids I work with at church... ?  We seem to operate on similar planes in alternate universes.

I'd like to think this means that I'm going to finish growing up and change the world.  So often you hear stories about those who change the world and how they experienced abandonment in some form, usually through the death of one or both parents, which propelled said world-changer to get out there and really own their craft or make use of themselves in the larger society.

But I don't know that I've lost enough for that yet... I don't know that I want to lose enough for that...

I think I'd settle for changing a lot.  Maybe not changing the whole world, but a lot of it.  I think losing enough to change the world has to be incredibly painful, which gives me a new-found respect for those that do.  Because losing that much doesn't just feel like death... it is death.

And maybe this is just me being a 20-something female.  I think I feel this way during a certain time every month.  In fact, I know I do.  Maybe it's just how God uses circumstances in my life to get my attention and reset my compass once a month...?  Because let's face it, I need it at least that often...

One thing I do know:  every time the compass gets reset, I learn to trust myself and those around me less and the person of Jesus even more.

There was a sweet moment today on the way home from my counseling session where I realized that in the Gospels, Jesus isn't speaking to this situation or that predicament, although her certainly does that.  What he's speaking to is you... me.  It's the person of Jesus, telling us that he knows we need him... that he came for us.  That he willingly gives us himself and takes on our pain... and our sin... in exchange.

Because there are things that I can't do, situations I can't deal with, people I can't control, stuff/things/feelings I have to let go of.  And to that he says:  I. came. for. you. ...and for that.

On my own, I will always say the wrong thing, or act rightly and then somehow feel guilty for it, or enable, or try to control, or react in anger, or allow bitterness to grow in my heart, or stuff feelings and then let them boil over much later... 

It's only out of a heart that's secure in Christ that I'm able to operate in love and wisdom and functionality with those around me. 

I am so thankful when he draws me to himself to remind me of this... I am so ready for this to become the new norm.

GF veggie burgers

Tonight I made Jenna Weber's (Eat, Live, Run) Boyfriend-Approved Spicy Black Bean Burgers.  And holy cow they were delicious.  But I tweaked them for the gluten-free and less-spicily-inclined.  Think more along the lines of Pianist-Approved Gluten-Free Black Bean Burgers.  No spicy.  Just awesome.

A couple of tricks if you want to try these, esp if you want to modify them for gluten-free persons...

- Of course, not being a fan of jalepenos, I omitted them and substituted red bell pepper instead.  Perfect choice.  Mild and sweet.  Just the way I like it.
- While doing my grocery shopping at 8 pm tonight, I forgot that I needed ground flax rather than flax seed.  I, of course bought flax seed.  This is what comes of grocery shopping after 7 pm, but I went ahead and used it anyway as instructed.  Worked great.  I strained some of the water out with my hands and didn't even use the entire flaxseed mixture.  I strained as much as I could without making the overall burger mixture too watery... use your best judgment.
- Instead of using panko breadcrumbs (obviously they are gluten-laden), I substituted almond flour part for part and it was awesome.
- Also, I didn't have a food processor.  Haha.  I know.  How did I pull this one off, you ask?  Heat the beans, peppers, and garlic in the microwave for a minute or two and then use a mixer on high.  It works when you're in a pinch.  No shame.  I also left just a tad of the black bean liquid in there to help it blend better without the benefit of the processor.
- Because I left a little more black bean liquid in, I left a little bit of the tomato sauce out.  1 and 1/2 T instead of a full two.
- 3/4 tsp of salt instead of 1 and 1/4 tsp

The burgers are hard to fry, I will be honest.  They are not hard to get into the pan.  And they are not hard to flip.  And they aren't hard to get out of the pan.  What's difficult is helping them maintain their shape.  Because you're basically frying mush.  I mean, let's be honest, if you were really starving and in a pinch for time, you could eat the mixture straight and it would be great.  For all practical purposes, frying the burger is just a formality.  But it does give it a little crispiness and if you can nail the shape-keeping part of this whole exercise, more power to you.  I don't know... maybe I was making mine too big?  Or maybe it's because I ended up totally changing her recipe after all lol.  Or maybe I just needed to add more flour to help them stick together.  Either way, it was only my first time.  Literally.  Before tonight, I was a veggie burger virgin.  Try saying that 5 times fast...

So if you're looking for a new recipe, especially one to try for summer, this is the one for you.  It's delicious and the whole recipe will make you roughly 5 nice-sized burgers, possibly more if you make them smaller.  I like a big burger though.  Adding a gluten-free bun, lettuce, tomato, and slices of avocado made it even better.  I'd estimate 12-14 grams of fiber total (including gf bun) for those of you out there counting...

... oh right.  That would be none of you.  Because apparently I'm 84.

graduation, Jimmy, dragons, and the hat lady

Tonight I am ignoring my water intake obligations and sipping on a new favorite:  mango acai herbal tea.  Oh, man it is so good.  Perfect for a summer evening.  This may be my new go-to drink this season... I mean, in addition to my iced coffee every morning.  After getting dehydrated last summer, I'll have to be careful, but it will be so worth it.

So much has happened in the last 24 hours.  Literally 24 hours.  My only regret is that there are no pictures... yet.  I think my mom is working on that as we speak though.  Hopefully before I'm done here.

Allow me to fill you in:

Last night, my brother graduated from high school.  We are all so proud of him and we hardly knew to expect it, but half of the relatives turned out for the occasion.  All of my dad's living siblings, two of my cousins, and my first cousin once removed (... or maybe she's my second cousin?  I never remember which is right, even though I've googled it several times.  Anyway, the daughter of my cousin.  I think that's once removed... right?  Oh well, either way... I digress...)

But the ceremony was something else.  Mom and Dad have higher opinions of it than I do, and I think that's wonderful.  I'll try to be as gracious as possible here, but when the salutatorian begins his speech with the word "So...," you know you're in for an interesting evening.  This was followed by the valedictorian, who spoke well for the most part, right up til she ended her speech with a quote from someone else (which really isn't terrible, but it's still a no-no in my book), and of course, the keynote speaker who broke out into song no less than four times throughout his address.  When I told Dr. B about this, he asked me what songs this man sang and I had to confess that I didn't know a single one of them, which Dr. B found hilariously ironic, since it was a Christian ceremony at a Christian high school addressing a Christian audience who surely should be able to relate to all of this accordingly.  It made it just a tad awkward for everyone concerned and I must say, pretty hilarious too.  By the fourth time he started singing, my sister and I were nearly in gales of silent laughter, trying to contain ourselves there in the fourth row of bleachers. 

Conclusion:  nobody knows how to write a speech anymore.

And then we were asked to please hold our applause during the presentation of diplomas until all the graduates had walked across stage.  Right.  Like that was gonna happen...

Anyway, Nick graduated.  And all the family in attendance went to Mom's for ice cream afterwards and we had a lovely time eating ice cream sundaes together at 10 pm.

 I just love this picture.

Then this morning, I saw an old friend ( ...an old flame, shall I say?  But that is all water under the bridge these days.  He has been only a good friend for some time now and will always be that way... we are just absolutely birds of two different feathers.  Not to mention that I just enjoy him more as a person when I'm not attached to him.  Again I digress...).  Anyway, he passed through town early this morning on his way back to New York... just a week or so ago he graduated from the Manhattan School of Music, which is a major and well-earned accomplishment.

And I am so glad I didn't go to grad school.  After talking to him... what a nightmare!  I won't go into details, but his story will be one of the horror stories among many Americans' (many artists and musicians, especially) that goes down in the book of student loan nightmares... because the university system is perpetuating itself and quickly turning into a business by upping the price of tuition and diluting the overall worth of a degree.  Degree inflation, do they call it?  But I won't get on that soapbox here.  What makes me so sad for my friend is that when I asked him if he felt like it was worth it, he said no.  Apparently all throughout his course of study, his teacher played favorites.  He said he wasn't ever really one of them and he didn't feel like he learned much more than he already knew.  So, so sad.  It makes me super happy that I'm able to study with Professor Burkhart privately and that it's going well.  The good news is that with a masters from that school, Jimmy can basically go anywhere in the country and charge whatever he wants for either teaching or accompanying.  But he won't.  Because that's just the way he is... he's going to try to make it as a performing artist in the city that never sleeps.  More power to him... and yet again I say:  I am so glad I didn't go down that path, which is not to say grad school isn't in the cards for me.  But it will be on my terms.  Regardless, it was good seeing him and good catching up, even though we only had about 45 minutes.  He was going to try to drive from Columbia to New York in a day i.e. for now, he belongs in the city that never sleeps.  I wish him lots and lots of luck.  But more than that, lots and lots of wisdom as he heads down a very difficult path.

Then after church this afternoon, I treated myself to a trip to the Botanical Gardens to see the corpse flower that is blooming there over the next 2-3 days.  Apparently it can go for long periods without blooming and when it finally does, it smells like rotting meat, which helps attract pollinators.  In truth, it looks like something extremely phallic, surrounded by something inherently feminine, if you get my drift... which I know you do.  This is where I regret not having pictures so you could see it for yourself.  The Wikipedia link above will have to suffice for now.  Anyway, the point of all this is that this fascinating specimen brought me to the Garden, and when I got there, I found that they were setting up for the start of the Chinese Lantern Festival next weekend... i.e. it was amazing.  In addition to beautiful Chinese lanterns set up throughout and red and yellow streamers hanging from trees, they had two HUGE dragons assembled (facing each other) just beyond the rose garden, whose supports were at intervals among the two rectangular ponds on either side of the large circular pond.  And the clincher was that both of these dragons are made entirely of china plates.  It is absolutely mind blowing.  There are cups and saucers too, but the majority is plates, which are the dragon scales all throughout.  The entire structure is formed and held together by metal grating, which adjoins each piece of china to the other.  I wish I could adequately explain, but words are failing me... I will post pictures later, when I'm able to steal Mom's camera and go back again.

Anyway, after the Garden, I decided that since this was my first real day off with nowhere to be and no responsibilities to anyone and no ability to practice (since the music building at school is closed on the weekends over the summer) that I was going to go look at hats... and take as long as I pleased.  The only good place I know to buy or even look at a decent hat selection is at Dillards in the Galleria.  I remember acquiring one for Easter many, many years ago when I was maybe ten or eleven... a hat flop if ever there was one.  Nevertheless, I tripped off to the Galleria... just to look of course, and was pleasantly surprised to find the entire stock on sale for 40% off.  Sometimes I have inherently amazing timing.  I won't tell you how long I spent looking, but you can absolutely believe that I tried on nearly everything they had in stock and was finally in the process of narrowing the search down between two or three, when I glanced over to ask a lady nearby her opinion.  And it was just my luck that this wonderful woman (who happened to be a minor expert in hats) had compassion on me, promptly shut down her phone conversation, came over, and started teaching me her hat magic.  And boy did she have wisdom to impart.  And let me just say:  after today's lesson, it is clear to me that white girls like yours truly just don't know how it's done.  I was so thankful for her.  Apparently the secret is in the tilt.  As she says, "You can't just flop on a hat and walk out the door... You gotta tilt it the right way, like that, so it looks nice.  And then you gotta just wear it with confidence.  Don't be afraid to be you."  I nod in understanding as she says all this and give her a verbal affirmative.  I look in the mirror.  It looks much better than before.  She tilts it again, a little bit more.  I look in the mirror again to find myself, but not just myself... a lady with intelligent eyes and fair skin staring back at me.  Whoa.  I just grew up another ten years...

But this hat-wearing business is something I'm for sure a believer in... and not just for myself, but for the public at large too.  For months now, whenever I've walked by a woman who's brave enough to wear a hat out in public, I tell her how much I like it and how becoming it is on her.  I guess you could say I have an agenda (thanks to Dr. B) to bring back hats and flowers.  They're too pretty to be a thing of the past.
 
And I have to say, that wonderful lady... well, she's the one that sold me on it personally today.  Otherwise, I probably would have spent two hours looking, frowned in dismay, and walked away to think about it some more.  Bless that lovely hat woman, whoever she may be.

And there will for sure be a hat-wearing learning curve to follow, I have no doubt.  But that will be in undoubtedly hilarious posts yet to come.  Possibly pictures too...

... what was it e.e. cummings said?  "It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are..."

Yeah.  That.  What he said... :)

dear einstein...

Found a great blog today, courtesy of my community group leader Robbie.  He and his family are moving to England this fall so that he can start a PhD course in New Testament philosophy at Durham University.  He is an amazing man, married to an awesome woman.  In the process of finding the right school for his PhD endeavors, he was accepted to both Oxford and Cambridge and turned them both down.  I will miss him and his wife and their three boys greatly.

You can read the blog post he found and posted recently HERE.  It's a letter to Einstein from a 14-yr-old girl.

"Dear Einstein:  Do Scientists Pray?..."

speed bumps

My mom informs me that my grandma doesn't think I post enough details on my blog about anything.  For better or worse, today's post is for you, Grandma:

We are so, so, soooo close to the end.  I am exhausted, not necessarily from things done today or yesterday or the day before that, but from the semester in general.  And when I get to this point, I do not deal very gracefully with myself.  I am far from perfect and there are days when I feel it quite intensely about myself.  And it drives me insane.  And in the process of driving myself insane, I usually drive everyone around me insane without meaning to, unless I keep it in.  And then I inevitably have a meltdown of some kind.  And if I happen to be by myself when this meltdown occurs, I will usually have a second one later when I'm with someone else.  Misery (even if primarily triggered by exhaustion) loves company.

I am so proud of my students.  They've done marvelously this year.  They too, are badly in need of a break though.  Each lesson finds them funnier and loopier, and yet closer and closer to the point of meltdown just like their sweet teacher.  It's time we all got off the ship.

And I keep thinking that I just need to be alone, which is true to some extent.  But I've been alone a lot this semester and the truth is, I miss my friends... or what I thought were my friends six months ago anyway.  I feel the number of people who inherently understand me and actually care to dwindle more and more as the months go by, which is a hard thought to face.  I don't necessarily think it's actually true, but it sure feels that way at the moment.  I've been living in a cave and few people have bothered to stop by.  I don't blame them, but as introverted as I may be, I am not an island.  As Dr. B says, "It all has to do with expectations..."  Le sigh.

And then there are days when it's not enough that you're forced to face your own imperfections and limitations, but society seems like it's ready to pounce on you with anything and everything that will inevitably overwhelm you.  Just today I read an article about the 10 worst food ingredients you should avoid like the plague.  And it's true.  MSG and Splenda and rBGH and BHA (and of all things I didn't realize, Agave... who knew??) are so bad for you.  But when you're struggling to feel like anyone out there cares because 1. you either haven't seen them in months, or 2. they're all married and having babies now, or 3. both, the last thing you need is to find out is that in addition to gluten, you really shouldn't be eating anything else either.  Pretty soon the only thing I'll be able to eat is grass... or so my sister tells me.

So I'm literally a starving artist who lives in a cave.

I shouldn't take it personally.  It's just life.  We all go through periods of exhaustion and isolation.  And no amount of coffee or distractions can take it away.  Even my pup is tired of cuddling with me.  She can only take a certain amount of cooing and sighing before she walks away and gives me the "I'm good, thanks" look.

It's a little much.  It's actually pretty overwhelming.  Today is an overwhelming day...

... today is a whiny day, let's be honest.  And it has to come out somehow.

I don't know how people do it.  I completely understand now why Dr. Budds always tells me he "doesn't like to suffer in silence."  I so get that.  He also says that "Life is a series of adjustments" and today I am not adjusting very well... mostly to myself.  And the truth is, life is just hard some days, without much explanation why.  There will be better days to come, I know.  Just today is hard.  And eventually I will learn how to build bridges and get over days like these... speed bumps, I guess you could call them.  Comforting on some level that there's a learning curve and grace in the process.

There's a saying among musicians (a quote by the famous trumpeter Vincent Chicowicz):  "The battle isn't with the instrument, it is with ourselves."  So, so true... and not just in music.

Anyway I look forward to seeing you and Grandpa this weekend at Nick's graduation.  Thanks for reading and be safe driving down here.  See you soon.