they say it rots your brain

my mother was right. television rots your brain. to be honest, i'm not sure if my mom ever really uttered those words, but someone's mom did somewhere at some point, and now i'm learning it firsthand.

about a month ago, i started watching gray's anatomy from the first episode on dvd. i finished the first two seasons and then moved on to glee. i've also been keeping up with american idol, the office, 30 rock, and snl. now, my most faithful of blog-readers will have connected by now that it has been just over a month since my last post and, that's right, i'm blaming tv. the shows that are airing weekly, which i enjoy via dvr, are not so much the problem. it's those confounded shows on dvd that ruin my life. i will come home from working 2 jobs and think to myself, "katie, sure you have something brilliant to write about - an insightful piece of perspective or didactic little short story - but no, you deserve to sit and watch 3 episodes of gray's stupidity. sure, your room needs to be cleaned and the kitchen floor is sticky, but instead of seeing to those things, you should probably watch glee until your eyes start to close."

ahhhhhhhh is all i have to say about that. anyone who knows me knows that if i am watching something on tv, be it "good" or "bad" television, or even a movie (though i have less tolerance for bad movies) the rest of the world fades away. it's strange, really. the house could be on fire, and still i will gaze upon the flickering screen. i can't really abide chatter during movies or television, unless it adds something or makes me laugh - it's part of my condition.

all of this to say - i think i enjoy television and movies more than a lot of people, but it's for that reason i feel the need to temper my consumption. kind of like an alcoholic with booze. i know what you're thinking: "but katie, an alcoholic probably shouldn't have a tempered amount of alcohol, they should have no alcohol at all." and to that i say: "well, friend, that's where the analogy fails." seriously, i just need to really monitor my series-on-dvd consumption and i'll be fine. if, let's say, in a few months, i haven't written anything, you come to my house and find me in a katie-shaped hole on my couch and a remote fused to my hand, that's when you can stage an intervention. it's not so much that i watch an unhealthy amount of tv (or have been recently), i have just been spending an unhealthy percentage of the small amount of free time i do spend at my home, watching tv instead of cleaning my house or writing - two things that i used to be pretty good about keeping up with.

i hope you know that i'm being unnecessarily dramatic and don't think me some sort of recluse. on the contrary - if i were smarter, i would connect this problem to my general lack of down time. the fact that i really enjoy sitting for so long should probably clue me in to the fact that i do too much general "going." i will not, however, come to this conclusion, but will simply say that i should write and clean more, even if it means watching less.

as a sort of side note, i would like to say that i don't think that i really like gray's anatomy. the more i watch it, the more i feel like the characters aren't real people, and i must have real people. they do crazy things all willy nilly and often out of character, it seems just for shock value. i have the first disc of the third season from netflix, so we'll see if that ever finds its way into my brain before it finds itself back in the mailbox.

glee, on the other hand, is much more clever. it is obscenely cheesy, but so full of self-mockery, that you can't help joining in. i'm trying to finish the dvd episodes before it starts airing again. that way, i will have no more shows on dvd, hopefully, and my life can return to it's previous prolific and organized state.

something

i figured i should write something.

i have some ideas in my head for real posts, but blogging is funny - i have to be in the right mood, or i just wont do it.

i'm in the mood now, but not for anything serious - i need to go to bed.

i've been having a strange, sluggish week. i've been throwing clothes around my room every single day - and not even in the kind of way that pricks me with guilt. i genuinely don't care that i can't see my little couch anymore. it's bizarre.

i've started watching gray's anatomy from the beginning. i decided to do in on a whim and i really believe that it has something to do with my disappointment regarding the zero romance that goes on in my life. i don't want to talk about it, but don't judge me, either. i'm only 1.1 seasons in, but it doesn't seem so bad, especially when i compare the amount of questionable content to the amount of satisfaction i get from the lit up faces of actors.

my household now includes 4 people, 5 guitars, and 1 bearded dragon.

i've discovered luna bars. they're great.

i applied for a job a few weeks ago. i haven't heard anything.

i think i've turned my back on grad school, at least for now. i've gotten to know several grad students (that'll happen, here in the triangle), and they all say the same thing - don't go to grad school unless there's no other way to do what you want to do. if i do it just because i think it's a better option than what i'm doing now, and that it will probably open up more professional opportunities, i'll just end up hating my life. well, great. finding a graduate program, though challenging, seems easier to me than finding a better job.

i do want a better job. i like where i work, and most days i even like what i do there, but there are still those days that make me feel like a first-grader in a kindergarten classroom. the one perk of that scenario would be that, as a first grader in a kindergarten classroom, i would probably be the star student. my real-life situation provides no such silver lining. let's just say that this particular teacher(s) aren't easily impressed.

i don't really think i'm too good for the job that i have, if that's the impression that i'm giving. i don't. i'm a 24 year-old humanities major. let's be serious. i think it has more to do with the time that i've spent there and the the fact that i haven't heard so much as one "you're good at what you do," or "we're glad you're here" from the powers that be. it just makes me feel that i haven't accomplished anything and then begs the question: what i am working toward?

that's some days. other days, i'm blissfully happy with my life and kick myself for not just having a better attitude. i really should just have a better attitude, for everyone's sake.

well, hopefully there will be more to come soon. i can't bear to look at my dismal google analytics stats anymore...

where she's been

her tiny, tired legs struggled to carry her body over the snowy sidewalk. we had already lagged far behind the rest of our sledding party, and i could see the house--our destination--from where we were, but our pace promised that we would not be there soon.

"i just wish i could walk faster. i hate being so small." the laments of a five year-old always seem a bit ridiculous from the perspective of an adult. of course, she wont be small forever and soon she'll be able to walk just as fast as she pleases but, if i remember anything about being a child, promises of the future are seldom comforting.

"you're not small! you're just a perfect five year-old who is a perfect five year-old size. look, i can see the house! we're almost there!"

my fake enthusiasm had little effect as far as lifting her spirits, but she did lift her body and begin to trudge, very slowly.

i knew that she just wanted to be back at the house - warm and dry with hot chocolate to end an afternoon of sledding. i wanted that too.

her current mood was starkly contrasted by her demeanor earlier in the day as we walked that same sidewalk, in the other direction. she had never been sledding before and was bursting with excitement from the moment we left the house. she skipped down the street:

"this is the best day ever! i love this day!" she repeated, over and over again. the little north carolinian-born girl had seldom seen snow, and maybe had never seen this much. i certainly hadn't ever seen that much in the south--8 inches or so.

but, all of this was forgotten now. her small stride had stolen her joy.

for a minute or two, i began thinking about other things, and slowly widened the space between us.

that was, until i heard "wait up!" from behind.

i turned around and saw her walking toward me. she was not walking on the sidewalk. she was walking where the grass would be, if it weren't for the deep snow. i was slightly irritated.

"why don't you walk on the sidewalk? it'll be easier because there's not as much snow!" i coaxed her, not understanding why, in all of her frustration and weariness, she would choose the most difficult path.

"i like it! i like to make tracks!" she responded, as if i should have known.

i couldn't help but laugh and i certainly couldn't argue. of course she wanted to make tracks. and she will continue to want to make tracks. she will continue, i hope, to walk in the deep snow, even though it's harder, just so she can see, and everyone else can see, where she's been.

you're welcome in advance (scone recipe)

a couple of weeks ago, i had a small gathering of women at my house:

Tea, Scones, and Bridget Jones

i was very excited about this - the movies, the crumpets, the devonshire cream, the lemon curd, the tea, and (of course) the scones!

my only problem was that i had never actually made scones before and here they were, right in the title of my shindig. typically, i don't really hesitate when it comes to cooking new things - i just do it and it usually turns out fine. cooking isn't rocket science and i usually don't set my sights on anything "advanced." anyway, from what i had heard from the respected chefs in my life, scones could be a bit tricky to get right.

tricky scones+my first time+scones in the title of my shindig=a wee bit of anxiety

to make a short story very long....here's the recipe that i found/altered/enslaved. for those of you who were concerned for me and my scone party, you can relax. the scones came out perfect and a good time was had by all. that's why i'm posting the recipe.



Ingredients:

• 3-1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 2 tablespoons and 2 teaspoons baking powder (weird, i know)
  
• 1/2 cup white sugar (or brown sugar. see below)
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 10 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 1 cup milk
• 3/4 cup sour cream
• 2 eggs
• 2 tablespoons milk (or kahlua. see below)
  
• however much of whatever "filling" you want to use (see below)
  

this is what i used for two different types of scones:

darkberry scones (made-up name, pictured above):

• a little less than one bag of ghirardelli dark chocolate chips (we got hungry before it was time)
  
• one small package of fresh raspberries

kahlua spice scones (made-up name):

• 3 tablespoons and one teaspoon of pumpkin pie spice
• 2 tablespoons of kahlua (to replace milk above)
  
• 1/2 cup brown sugar (to replace white sugar above)
  
• 1 teaspoon brown sugar

now, in my limited experience, this recipe lends itself well to different types of ingredients, so whatever kind of scone you think would be delicious (and fun to name), go for it.

1. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees (fahrenheit. this is america).
2. Sift (or just make unclumpy) the flour, baking powder, sugar (brown sugar for kahlua spice scones) and salt into a large bowl.
   
3. This next part is kind of annoying, so bear with me.
   
4. Dice all of the butter into small cubes - about the size of a pea - and add to the dry mixture.
5. Mix the butter cubes into the dry mixture with your hands - some of them will clump together. Rub any clumps between your hands until none of the butter balls are bigger than a pea.
   
6. At this point, if you're going to add any fruit or chocolate (here i added the dark chocolate and raspberries for the darkberry scones) or anything like that, do it, and mix it all together (dry mix, butter balls, fruit or whatever) with your hands until everything is sufficiently coated with the dry mix.
   
7. Mix together 1 cup of milk and the sour cream in a measuring cup. Pour all at once into the dry ingredients, and mix gently with your hands until well blended. Pretend your putting clothes on a baby or defusing a bomb or something. If you overwork the dough, I am told, your scones with have the density and appeal of a foot.
8. The dough will be sticky and in clumps - it will not end up in one neat ball like bread dough or something. It will be somewhere between bread dough and cookie dough. Just make sure that all of the dry ingredients have been absorbed into the stickiness.
9. It was at this point that I (for the kahlua spice scones) added 3 tablespoons (though, it was more like "shake, shake, shake, that looks good, right?") of pumpkin pie spice to the dough and just mixed it a little bit more - until it looked evenly swirly and nice.
   
10. Here, you might want to wash your sticky hands, dry them, and flour them.
11. Arrange the dough on a greased cookie sheet in little mounds about 3 inches in diameter. They can be pretty close together - almost touching, even.
12. Whisk (or fork) together the eggs and 2 tablespoons of milk (if you're making kahlua spice scones - replace the milk with kahlua and also add one teaspoon pumpkin pie spice and one teaspoon brown sugar). Brush the tops of the scones with the egg wash (try to use it all) and let them chill out for about 10 minutes.
13. Bake for 10 to 15 minutes in the preheated oven, or until the tops start brown a bit.
14. Take them out of the oven and use oven mits, for crying out loud. (see how i avoided a lawsuit there?)
15. Top with whatever you would like and enjoy (the scones and all of the accolades). I recommend devonshire cream, some kind of jam and/or lemon curd. All good things - the British will be proud.
    

there you have it. please post success/failure stories or scone tips for those of us who plan on making many more scones in the future.

special thanks goes to cristin campo, who was my scone-making partner. we did it, kid. we did it.

choose your own adventure

the thames

I, only seventeen and a novice traveler, was not entirely comfortable in my pronunciation of the name of the river that ran through London, but I loved it. I loved walking along it, being in a city, a modern, expensive, overdeveloped city and looking at a piece of nature that would not easily surrender control. It was a natural power amidst a jungle of created giants and that night, it was the perfect setting. It was sunset, and the sky behind Big Ben boasted colors that I thought only existed on postcards. I walked along the river, safe and dry on my lofty cement sidewalk. The still air rested at that very particular temperature, which made it impossible to sense. There was no warmth and no chill, no boundary between me and my surroundings. I strolled, weaving though the melting clocks of Dali sculptures and still feeling high from my ride on the London Eye. It was strange - to feel so intrigued by a place that millions of people call home, call ordinary. Then I came upon them - two men, one gently pulling a bow over his violin as he swayed - a dance that made music. The other, singing a song so full of passion that I could very easily have believed that it was me whom he loved. My heart swelled. I was experiencing the most romantic moment of my young life, and was alone, save two strangers whose hearts truly felt nothing but hope that I might be moved enough to drop something in the violin case at their feet.

this is where the story ends. i only write nonfiction. i know that many of you, tale-tellers, love to write fiction. please, if you would, finish my story. i hope to have at least a couple of versions - each a lovely collaboration - romance, adventure, zombies, whatever - a collection of little stories, each with the same opening. fun? do it. thanks.



please post your story here (facebook or blogger) for all to read.



love love

I'm So Silly: A Short Story

To be young is to be silly. It cannot be avoided. To be silly, though, is to be empty and ready to learn, which is something that, as an adult, I wish I could practice more often. The following is a particular incident that sticks out in my mind. It helped be become a bit less silly and a bit less empty, for my own good and for the good of unsuspecting homeless people everywhere.

Jackie and I pulled off the interstate. We had spent the morning at church and had been inspired afresh to be loving and helpful to those in need. As we pulled up to the traffic light at the end of the off-ramp, we noticed a man on the median to our left. He was sitting on an overturned shopping cart and holding a cardboard sign. He wore layers of worn clothing, dirty tennis shoes and a navy blue winter hat that couldn't restrain the disheveled hair beneath it. Next to him on the ground was a large pack - the sort of thing that I imagine in my fantasies of backpacking through Europe. He was, I imagined, a man of many places. Though his face was rough and weathered, and his broken smile brought back childhood memories of the tooth fairy, I saw a certain carefree spirit in his eyes, which told me that he was not much older than us.

"Perfect." I thought. "A needy person! I can't even imagine how happy he'll be once we're through with him."

We pulled up next to him. Jackie rolled down her window.

"Hi!" we said, nervous, excited, and trying to appear cool.

"Hi," he responded. He seemed a bit suspicious, an appropriate response to the approach of teenage girls, but also intrigued and friendly.

"I'm Jackie, and this is Katie. What's up?"

"Well, I'm just trying to raise some money to get a little further south for the winter." The young man explained, humoring us - the same was written on the sign he was holding.

"Cool. Is there anything we could get for you? Food or something?" Jackie asked, gesturing toward the Walgreen's across the street.

Simply giving him money wasn't even close to the dramatic scene we were hoping for. We were going to do something great for him, something he would never forget, something he would tell his grand-kids about. I could hear the story-telling already: "I'll never forget those kind girls. They restored my faith in humanity and changed my life forever."

Before my fantasy was finished, he replied, "Nope. I'm fine. I actually just ate and I'm pretty stuffed."

"Was he serious?" I asked myself. "Does he know that he's homeless?" I looked at him and made a lengthy, mental list of all of the things he didn't know he needed.

We paused for a second, shocked and unsure of our next move. Of all of the possible outcomes, I had not anticipated this – that the needy would need nothing. Eventually, we decided that his refusal was probably insincere, and definitely unacceptable. We were going to give him the help he needed, whether he knew he needed it or not.

After some considerable pestering: "Are you sure? There must be something. Come on!" we finally abused the poor man into submitting to our charitable intentions.

“I guess a bottle of water would be nice,” he surrendered.

Finally.

The light turned green, we drove across the street and entered Walgreen’s on a mission. We knew that he needed more than water. He was sitting on a shopping cart, for crying out loud! It was nearing Christmas and our romantically tragic assumptions assured us that there would be no gifts for him and that only we could rescue the poor, delicate soul from a loveless Christmas. We filled a gaudy red sock with various items, purchased the lot and were quite please with ourselves. A Christmas stocking for homeless man - what a lovely gesture! Possibly the loveliest.

After parking the car on the side of the road close to the shopping cart, we walked to join our less fortunate friend on his median. It was a different experience - standing face to face, as opposed to conversing with raised voices through a car-window. I felt vulnerable.

I handed him the stocking. He seemed glad to have it – perhaps he did know he was homeless after all. He emptied the sock onto the ground beside him and carefully rifled through it's contents, which included a toothbrush, hand sanitizer and dental floss. Finally, he looked up.

"Do I look dirty?" he asked, looking amused. My feelings of vulnerability quickly gave way to acute embarrassment.

"Uh...no...we just thought..." I started with urgency, but trailed off. A smile and a shrug finished the thought that my words failed. He chuckled and returned to examining his gifts.

I’m sure our new friend appreciated his toothpaste and granola bars, but I certainly gained something more important from our interaction. A connection was made and an unintentional prejudice was shattered. Sure, he was a homeless man, but he was still a man. He had a sureness of self that we lacked, a sense of humor enough to laugh at two young girls offering baby wipes to a grown man on the side of the road, and grace enough to thank us anyway, though I would not have blamed him if he had been offended, rejected our gifts completely, and taken his shopping cart elsewhere.

Experiences like these, though embarrassing to recount, are what have nearly succeeded in growing me up. If I were smart, I would ask for more until the job is done, but I am not smart, at least not yet.

I wrote this short story in college, and then I kind of edited/rewrote it today. Assuming you've read it (since you're now at the bottom of the page), if you feel so inclined, provide some feedback. I think it's fun, but as the author have very little by way of an unbiased perspective. If it turns out that others think it is fun as well, I might send submit it to some publication. If not, I'll leave it alone. The third option is conditional acceptance by my readers - ways I can change it to be worthy of wider readership. In any case, and let me know.

Thanks!!

for my birthday

i've said it before and i'll say it again now -

charity: water is a phenomenal organization.

for my 24th birthday (February, 11), i'm asking for people to donate. i have set up a campaign here: http://mycharitywater.org/katies24th

if every one of my facebook friends donated $10 (or one trip to the movies/out to dinner) then we would have raised $6250. it only takes $5000 to provide a well for 250 people for 20 years!

let's try. i set the goal for $1000 because i'm generally afraid of failure, but if we exceed that, you better believe that i'm changing it to $5000 pronto. pronto!

for more information about charity: water, go here: http://www.charitywater.org/whywater/

to donate click here: http://mycharitywater.org/katies24th

inspire hope. restore faith.