this blog sent from my iPhone!

okay not really.

but i could if i wanted to.

i wasn't supposed to get an iPhone until Christmas, but Christmas came early to me this year--in the second week of December to be exact. my phone dropped out my pocket while i was in cab, falling more harshly than the gentle snowflakes that followed us to a post-Thanksgiving feast. story of an average New Yorker. i thought my phone fell out in cab, but after further investigation i'm fairly certain that my old phone is in micropieces imbedded into the ground of an Astoria street corner.

the visible chill escaped my lips as i sighed in frustration, as my head cycled the rolodex of contacts i'd have to hunt down via social media and e-mail and numbers of friends of friends. i was dangerously on the verge of creating a "hey guysss lost my phone so i created a Facebook event for you to publicly post all of your numbers" type of event. i find these obnoxious, so the only option i had was to stalk down each individual number because God forbid everyone doesn't get my adorable Merry Christmas! mass text.

or, i could not.

i get the itch to rip up life by the roots sometimes; just to overhaul what's negative--what's painful, what's sad, what's annoying, or even just what's grown stale--both from within and from the outside. i don't consider myself a masochist, i consider myself 23. i try with my every ounce to appreciate what is given to me, and that doesn't mean being perfect--i don't always want to be. but there comes a meeting point between your threshold and the expense of yourself. even something as simple allowing myself the patience to let people come to me with their contact information was a nice slap in the face of reprioritization.

it's easy to mistake selfprioritization for selfishness. i try to give as much as i can as often as i can, so these lines tend to blur. when we think we are helping people by giving more of yourself to someone than you can afford to, you end up in personal debt. it's also vital to know that giving someone what they want doesn't mean you are necessarily doing right by them either. you may just be feeding into their own bad habits and neither of you are getting what you deserve. your good intentions are along the wayside. and you can "good intentions" until the end of time.

certain people just compel you. you can't explain it. you don't want to. but your continued investment may be undervalued or unseen. you'll find one hell of a disparity between the mental energy you waste on someone and the appreciation seen for you or by you. return of interest ain't just a measurement from business school. whether it's friends, loves, or family, you have to break your own holding patterns if they are breaking you.

it doesn't always take a betrayal to close the curtain on the final act, though a stab to the back makes for one dramatic death. maybe it's just constantly you who is on the phone for them. or driving to see them. or being their wingman at the bar, dealing with the fact that they'd rather hunt flash a tender smile to attract the opposite sex than actually spend time with you. maybe whether or not you and your friend hang out is contingent on whether he/she will be in bed with someone else at the drop of a hat. maybe you let your guard in full to someone, but they only cracked their soul's window. maybe you're friends with all their most important people of Facebook but they aren't brave enough to step into your world to catch even the smallest glimpse. maybe the people are right but the timing wasn't/isn't/never will be. maybe you're right but they won't admit it. maybe you're right but they're not on the same page, which makes it impossible to start your own chapter. this is crucial: don't ask why--it hurts bad enough. you can't live life contingent on these factors and you can't hunt them down for their phone numbers. you will only be let down, and if it's meant to be, let yourself be pleasantly surprised rather than burn yourself out by grappling with the unattainable--temporarily or otherwise. i always air on the side of hope and fate and believing and guts, but we can't be consumed by these. otherwise, there's no you left.

i'm tired of speaking in undertones and innuendos and subtleties.
love is loud.

-k.

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Now playing: Charlotte Martin - Your Armor
via FoxyTunes

life is SO hard!

i entered the frigid outdoors wincing at the cold and continuously resitatuating myself as i tried to maintain a balancing act between the weight of my work bag with my no hands available carrying stuff method. regardless of weather, i wince at the thought of navigating Times Square, and i grow particularly grumpy in the cold during after-corporate-america-gets-out-of-work o'clock. as i was cutting east i encountered a homeless man shivering on the frozen concrete of a random doorstep, asking me for spare change with dejected puppy dog eyes.

i stopped and gave him change. i then silently thanked him for the change in perspective he gave me.

before our meet cute, i was complaining to myself because i had to carry my MacBook, cellphone, and Venti Starbucks Chai Tea Latte (how is THAT for American?) from my JOB on the 17th floor with such a breathtaking view even New Jersey looks pretty.

my life is SO hard! really, i should have compared notes with the homeless guy that i encountered. i'm sure we'd tally just about even on the "Degree of Challenges in a Given Day" contest. he's forced to find a way to survive on a daily basis, whereas i, have to figure out how to tote around all of my technology.

even worse than complaining about the uncomplainable is that i almost breezed by him without a second thought--which chills me even more than any biting December wind. if i hadn't stopped--if i hadn't just breathed--if i hadn't taken a damn second just to let the true colors shine--i would have moved on, brushing him away with the wisps of snow on my eyelashes.

i started this blog on a plane back from San Francisco. i love flying. the parts that terrifying most people are take off and landing, and i used to be scared of these too. but this time an inexplicable calmness overcame me. daily and on the ground i see pieces of Manhattan building by building. i love calculating each segment and breaking down the city for it's individual value. but flying over the New York shows you just how small a big city can be, and how microscopic individuals i am and my needs are in the big picture. even the brightest buildings shimmered in amber tones below blending into a sea of lights. the chaos of Manhattan panned out into a peaceful big picture quilt of people and concrete and cars and stadiums and parks and fields and everything. rarely do i view new york city as tranquil, and too rarely do i assess how minuscule my needs are in a grander scheme.

i believe firmly in self-prioritization. it's impossible to help others if you need too much help yourself. i believe in balance and faith and nurturing yourself and taking care of you. but remembering that we are of the smallest links in this fabric is important, too.

perspective is an acquired taste. it is natural to live in a box where the "biggest deal to you" is the biggest piece on your plate. not all perspective checks are built into society--you have to find your own way to air on the side of selfless, or selfish if the situation calls for it. it's all relative, but it's also important to remember that it's totally not. if it was really "all relative," we'd all panic over nothing and sweat the small stuff and not help anyone else. then, when something significant knocked us on our ass, we'd not have the wherewithal to seek or give help because nobody else would be delving the same. life can happen in a chain reaction. i want to be a catalyst. if we see problems, internally or externally, the best we can do is fix them. some will always have it better, some will always have it worse, but the equation will never be solved if we don't know where we fit in it. a friend of mine told me she tries to do things better than she did the day before, and that's really as far as she can go. be a better you than you were yesterday is a good way not to let yourself down. looking inside and outside of you won't always yield the most beautiful of images, but it will help you see where you stand. and hey, then you can go from there

if you can't do it on your own, try seat 15A on Virgin Airlines.

-k.
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Now playing: Kate Voegele - Manhattan from the Sky
via FoxyTunes

lessons learned from moving.

for mom, dad, and Lydia
as t --> infinity.
the audible creek from our old wooden kitchen floor lulled slow and steady as i swayed back and forth with my dad holding me tight and dancing. i harked back to the countless times my dad and i danced, remembering when i was waist high and standing on his toes and we'd slowly rotate. that was about 15 years and two feet ago. rotating now from our makeshift dance floor, the viewpoint yields an empty refrigerator, once flooding with photos, and a cold, blank wooden door, once plastered with childhood artwork.

my mom always says that Binghamton gave us roots and that moving onto New Jersey and New York City gave us wings. preserving consistency with the metaphor, i asked my mom how she felt about branching out from these roots, which have been home for my entire life and longer. she said that she feels as though we've gotten all of the home out of this house.

my parents did the snowbird gimmick for a while and flew to Florida to escape the harsh Binghamton winter cold and gray skies. this was particularly awesome for me because the Yankees spring training happens to be in said state. i remember my dad and i unsuccessfully trying to dodge Florida traffic late after i landed at the Tampa airport. we finally arrived at their Lakeland apartment, and my mom's mission was to organize our endless pile of photographs scattered about the floor. it was then that my mom first made mention of not staying in Binghamton too much longer, and i told her home was wherever she and my dad were.

the house has been on the market for about a year. apparently the economy and housing market aren't so great or something. coincidentally it was about a year ago that 124 Rosedale made its home-to-house transformation. we've been ready, and my parents have been up for an adventure, intending to sublet in New York City, our now collective wings, until the end of the year, and once again escape to Florida for the winter.

selling the house has taught me a lot. it taught me that HGTV is all you really need to sell a house. it taught me that when a baseball obsession starts inside the heart of a blonde thirdgrader adorned in navy blue pinstripes, it grows into a collection 14 t-shirts, (after already seceding at least nine to bedbugs) and over 30 issues of Yankee magazine. it taught me that sifting through your childhood still instills the feeling that your older sister is SO cool. it taught me that three women can collect a LOT of unnecessary crap. it taught me that my dad had longish hair once?! it taught me that horseback riding results in some gorgeous pictures. it taught me that swim team had too many ribbons, and every other sport has too many trophies. it taught me that the lens of a camera takes a very different picture than when viewed through the lens of an adult eye. it reminded me that Mrs. Juriewicz was such a good teacher i didn't hate math. it reminded me that my dad always pitched or coached my softball league. always. it proved further that the sensitivity of my mother's heart outweighs her body, and that my family clung to my dad's amazing strength in hard times for a reason, and that i will forever feed off of it. it showed me even more that my parent's marriage has lasted over 32 years because it's an example of marriage in it's purest form.

growth was the best lesson. personal growth is frequently evaluated by the wise, but considering the growth of a unit is underestimated. a significant marker for my family is coming up on Saturday, and our house closes on Monday. i've been thinking about where we were as a group even less than five years ago. right now, my family has the blessing of coasting. we all wake up and go to bed with smiles on our faces. what happens during the day has been good news or status quo. what was once navigating tricky traumas and waves of pain has faded to smooth sailing through calm waters and tranquil seas. the other side of pain has proven worth it. it's hard to believe that there is light as the end of the tunnel when you can't see it, or it's arresting you in blinding pain. but it's there. adolescence forces your relationships to grow because you are growing into yourself. with self-discovery comes the definition of relationships outside of yourself, especially with those who you see you every day and love you anyway.

when you are around 5 your parents are your all knowing guide and ultimate source of sustainability. when you are around 15 your parents are wrong, or they are right but suck because they aren't right in the way that you are right. when you are around 25, your parents go from being mommy and daddy to mom and dad, still serving as a compass for direction but with the filter of adulthood. it's fun to see your parents grow. i don't know if my parents would fulfill the freedom that they have. i don't know if they'd have the courage or desire for a trial run in Manhattan five years ago. i don't know if they would throw caution to the wind, assuredly a well thought out, carefully plotted throw, but a throw none the less. i don't know if they'd eat through the rhythm of life the way that they are. seeing your parents grow is a fantastically fun realization; we don't always give them enough credit for this. they are your parents. the are supposed to be completely developed and infallible; that's why their mistakes hit with a crucial punch and land with disbelief. my parents have done something amazing. my parents have planted "home" inside of us as individuals, but also created a thread of continuity that runs through all of us.

the YES network over hyped the concept of the "Core Four" this post season, noting the four Yankees that have weathered the ups and downs of Yankee years since 1996, including five world series victories. they completely sweep the fact that andy pettitte left under the rug--ah, the benefits of having your own network. my sister would joke that the Core Four were like the cool kids' lunch table and that they were reading Eat. Pray. Love. in the Core Four book club. now, we refer to ourselves as the Core Four, though our core is a little more solid than contract negotiations and aging careers. every family starts as wide-eyed rookies--life is a new role as children or parents. hopefully, if you grow enough together, you get to enjoy the championships, and can manage when the best pitcher in post season history blows a save. in the bottom of the 9th. in game 7. of the WORLD SERIES. life can be hard.

the inside of my parents wedding rings read "as time goes to infinity." this has been tried, tested, and is true.

i'm just glad we have more staying power the Core Four South Paw.

-k.

23 and counting

as i'm writing this, it is the 23rd anniversary of the day i was born. technically i won't be 23 years old until 8:04 p.m. but i can't promise that i'll feel like blogging in that exact moment, and i'll probably be out to dinner with my sister at an indian restaurant the size of a double wide trailer adorned with tacky lights that radiate a most festive milieu. what kind of twenty something writer would i be if i didn't reflect on the past year?

about 2 months ago there was a switch. a cocktail of circumstance mixed with me choosing self priority over misery has yielded some fascinating results. they call it growing up or something. the process can leave you staggering drunk through hallways of your old habits, but eventually lead you to a sobering state of clarity, which is something easier to taste hints of than to swallow. a shot of ourselves may not go down smooth--it burns, it stings, and you may want to chase it while listening to that lil' jon/lmfao 'shots' song. but if we hover around the salt on the rim of a dressed up fruity concoction, we can sip away with fear in a sleeker glass. the more we can disguise the taste of our poison the better it tastes, right? (i'm required to use a drinking metaphor because proper birthday protocol suggests i be wasted in a bar somewhere making mistakes with my life and puking).

and that's just the past two months. the changes of the past year are countless. i guess the more recent ones are shining more significantly because they are more current and have charted personal leaps and bounds even when i'm only taking baby steps. there wasn't any moment of enlightenment. there wasn't a specific spark. the temperature for change was just right i suppose.

a year ago i was freshly graduated which lends itself to a clean slate transition. throw a birthday on top of that and you can't help but glow of that new beginning feeling. this year i'm fighting to maintain that feeling, to keep the slate clean, to awake with fresh eyes that see positive light thru the clouds of negativity that people call 'life.' i hate when people say 'that's life' when something difficult arises. that's not life. that's a part of life. life is the whole damn ride.

i feel truly in the driver's seat. previously i knew i was directing my life, but it was more like i was a back seat driver politely trying not to interfere with the course of my own life. challenges always present themselves, many of them reoccurring, but it won't shake me to the core. i can lose balance but i'm able to recover. the problem with reoccurring issues is you tend to blame yourself for their reappearance as if you attract them. and maybe on some level it is in your nature, but the haunting familiarity of challenges past doesn't mean you are in the wrong. maybe they come back as an opportunity to apply what you learned in round one of this fight. or maybe you didn't learn. or maybe it's a total coincidence. but viewing it as an opportunity is half the battle in itself.

fact: i'm not very excited about my birthday. recent years celebrations suggest that it will in fact suck. my 21st was spent working 16 hrs at a minor league baseball game, which was a great job but an arduous doubleheader. last year, ugliness surfaced and one of my best friend's endured a break up. we still made the best of it, but my enthusiasm has since dwindled. i guess to me it's just another day, but at least i'm viewing every 'another day' as a fresh one.

-k.

perspective check.

so my last blog was a product of self-frustration and quite possibly PMS.
both of these things can make you lose perspective.
a lot has happened since the last time i blogged.

nothing like a devastating tragedy to make you stop whining about how difficult your uppereast side, roof-over-your-head, food-on-your-plate, loving-family-and-friends, life is. granted in my last post i wasn't taking any of these for granted necessarily--i mostly just lost sight of how awesome i was, which IS a devastating tragedy. but sorting through the aftermath of the earthquake in Haiti makes those insignificant frustrations with yourself and your life disappear. whether it's an introspective self loathing or that asshole on the 6 train who wants everyone to hear whats on his Ipod, you suddenly realize how very meaningless it is in the wake of tragedy like what happened in Haiti. it's amazing how close to home something can hit when you are nowhere near the devastation.

i logged onto Facebook earlier that day to see a variety of reactions, virtual prayers, etc. and saw a lot of hope. but i also saw that someone asked how people can believe in God when something like this happens. there were a lot of responses. some said that it was like a noah's ark situation. the country was in such dire straights that maybe, somehow thru the midst of all this pain and the fog of grief, the people of Haiti could rebuild a clearer image of less poverty and more prosperity. the obvious response is, why did this have to come at the cost of dying children and innocent people? is that really what it takes to get the rest of the world to listen? maybe.

i don't know why this happened. i can't say for certain that there is a God, but all the blessings in my life indicate that there is. i can say with some confidence that muddling through something like this, whether you are directly effected or not, is to stop trying to answer those questions and look for the love. look for the positive. the silver lining if you can say there is one. nations listened and responded. miracles were born. the strength of many people was tested. many passed with flying colors. attention was called back to our every day heroes of rescue workers rather than the idolized Lady GaGa and Reggie Bush (no offense to either). sometimes the world needs to stand still and breathe. sometimes we need to do that individually as well as collectively.

the next perspective check is i was "let go" by my job. apparently, the economy? not so great. i'm not saying this because i'm a republican (at least that's not why entirely) but the media is totally lying--it's not getting better. because *i* don't have a job. if i was saying this because i was a republican, i'd mention of they portray a disgraceful left wing bias on TV media. but i'm not.

anyway, whenever you move on from a job opportunity, that fresh start mindset kicks in, similar to when you started that job in all likelihood. outside of the stretch in the summer when i was looking for this job, i haven't really been unemployed since i was about 16, so this is weird for. between high school jobs, internships, and student working at school, i've always been 'employed' in some regard. so it's back to the drawing board. i always get in trouble when i have time to think, which is why i like staying busy. but if i didn't view this as an opportunity to have time to take care of myself, this whole blog would be riddled with hypocrisy. which is lame.

another window closed, another door opened.

-k.

what's black, white, and gray all over?

i dashed around the corner to pick up some last minute dinner at the conveniently located and always classy 'C-town' grocery store the other day. outside, a group of pigeons had congregated between the rusting red rods of metal that divide the uneven sidewalk and store entrance--a common occurrence. but on the outskirts of this gray feather maze stood a white pigeon, sporting patches of black that almost appeared spray-painted. not only was this bird singled out by color contrast, but it was as if he was squeezed out of the pigeon hole by it's peers who were indulging in a feeding frenzy on a stale piece of bread that was probably discarded from 'C-town' itself.

i promise this is not a blog about the injustices of racial profiling or affirmative action. .

at some point, we all feel like the white pigeon. we lay hungry on the outside of our friends who are gobbling up the fruit of this stage of life. we wear a different look than the norm for our age, gender, etc., forgetting that we are all actually just people--at least outside of this metaphor. we are isolated. we are alone. we are standing on our less that impressive talons, just trying to maintain balance and composure. and if we are lucky, once the Ring of Normal breaks, we can swoop in a salvage some of the leftover crumbs.

i'm pretty sure birds can't smirk, but this white pigeon carried itself with a satisfaction as if it could. it wasn't fluttering in chaos. it wasn't frantically pacing like the others. hell, it wasn't even trying to break into the pack and attack the food.

recently, a friend and i discussed the importance of honesty in writing--not only with your readers--but with yourself. she has a point. writing can keep you in check. writing can keep you from falling into the trap of sugarcoating. basically it can prevent you from bullshitting yourself, even if it makes you vulnerable. so here it goes.

lately i'm the white pigeon. i'm on the other side of the bridge from a majority of my friends. i'm still in the battle for employment, although that load seems to lightening. i live a completely different lifestyle than i did when i was in college and during my immediate post-graduate life. many others are maintaining this lifestyle.

some friends are fading into the backdrop of my successful four year college stint, while other staples i know remain regardless of how often i see them. most of those who have faded have gone quietly, others with a loud, hard thump that ended an inevitable dying cause anyway. sometimes the final nails in the coffin reveal the grave that you were digging at all along. that was a lot more morbid and depressing than intended, but seemingly valid.

but that's what happens with time. you grow. you bloom. you change. people enter and exit your life in both temporary and permanent stages. the motivated, fresh faced adolescent you enter as never matches the older and in some ways wiser version you become. you want new pieces of your life. you want different pieces of your life. and you want to cut weight you didn't recognize as dead to begin with.

so after the personal and interpersonal shake up, you're the white pigeon. but the white pigeon was patient. the white pigeon was secure. and the white pigeon could stand on it's own--at least until a future 'C-Town' customer breezed by, and all of the birds scattered.

most white pigeons are just a flight away from their peers at the next park or local grocery store.

-k.

new dog, old tricks.

did you know that toothpaste can dry out acne? it's one of the oldest remedies in the book. so after sinking way too much money into dermatalogist after dermatologist--after taking on so many antibiotics i thought i would be immune to bacteria itself--after countless gels and creams and sample sized bags, trying to cure the physical reminder of my teenage years that muscled it's stubborn way into adulthood--the best i got is colgate.

and it worked. the oldest trick in the book worked, which makes me wonder what my grandparents have hiding up their sleeves.

sometimes the oldest tricks in the book do work, which is probably how they were published in 'the oldest tricks: volume one' anyway. average life problems are inevitable, to what degree you are hurt varies. nobody escapes unscathed, so we must derive remedies to these issues.

therapy. tears. booze. chocolate. the gym. the traditional remedies to the most common problems, and many of the rare ones too. healing is a tricky process because we can often do more damage in our alleged repair. there is a fine and blurry line between treating the problem head on and simply addressing the symptoms that appear. is the midst of pain, this line can appear indecipherable. but even when the line is crafted in the clearest of crystals, we don't want to yank out the problem by it's root. we would rather wipe down the dirty surface and clean up what is easy. sometimes, this is a permanent mindset. other times, it is the first step in a long climb up our myriad of issues to dealing with 'the real thing.'

as i transition into this so called 'next-phase-of-my-life,' i've been finding myself in a bit of an emotional hurricane, with winds of my future swirling and stepping stones of my past raining down on me. i am caught in the eye of the storm, with neither the preceding rain or wind metaphor applicable to my every day routine. the hope of course is that this is temporary, and that the winds of my future with settle to calm breezes of an employed present, and my past washing away into puddles of previous success. but until then, i am in flux, in transition, and my head is driving forward in chaos mode. the only way to treat the problem is patience, job interviews, and taking care of myself. which i just decided to really start doing today. until then, i can only treat the symptoms. last night i did so by drowning in copious amounts of chips, cucumbers, and brownies on top of making less educated but more correct guesses than good friends about WWE summer slam.

and that works until the interview that is supposed to pan out eventually does.

-k.

short changed.

it was much to my dad's relief that Continental airlines not only continues to offer free plane food, but now provides outlets for businessmen and screaming infants alike. i dropped him, or rather mildly stopped and had him tuck-and-roll, at/onto terminal C for a five hour flight to phoenix. after a courtesy stop, i love you, and a hug from the back seat that was obstructed by the passenger side headrest, i rolled straight through, back on to the buffet of highways that newark airport feeds. so, giving blondes and upstate new york drivers alike a bad name, i hopped on to 78 east, realizing that i not only was driving in the opposite direction of where i should be headed, toward BAYONNE of all places, and the holland tunnel, but that i now had to pay a toll for my suave step. which was clearly God's way of saying "you're an idiot and NJ has a lot of construction to pay for this summer."

as i cranked my mp3player and deciphered which lanes were EZ pass only, i was swearing at myself for my bonehead move as well as the Ipod gods for toying with my emotions. i also frantically rummaged through my cup of change as each silver circle with george washington's face was a little answered prayer. i scoured the car for extra quarters, knowing that my STUPID move was also going to cost me on the way back.

this unexpected detour lead to this unexpected blog about short changing myself. like many twentysomethings, i split my rolls of quarters between laundry and car tolls. but do wrong turns lead to us short changing ourselves? i wrestle with the concept of "but i'm young and stupid," because soon enough i won't be that young, and despite my inability to adjust to new jersey driving, i would like to think that i am not that stupid. is this little trap called adolescence really such a huge period of growth, or is it a period of time where we just pretend we are too young to know better than we really do? maybe recognizing this is the growth part, but then in the end, it's certainly still taking it's toll, and you can bet it's with exact change. and it will probably be for like, $1.10, but you only have quarters, so you end up overpaying. the difference between the metaphor and my literal STUPID move is that in the metaphor, we actually short change ourselves by over paying. in the literal version, new jersey makes an extra 15 sense off of my unintelligent maneuver. shallow victory for you, corzine.

grappling with the line of acting your age (or sometimes, well below, because i relate WAY too well to that asher roth song,) and it blocking your potential seems to be a fairly constant battle at this little stage of life. guilty pleasures are in fact supposed to carry a level of guilt, but why indulge in the first place when we know better? we do know our actions, especially in young go-getter mode, are supposed to bring us closer to our goals rather than block them. a financial guru who incited my hatred for credit cards says "children do what feels good, adults devise a plan and stick to it." true, but that sounds kind of boring. we all want to be young and have fun, but who says where the appropriate boundaries are? i think that's where the growth part is, but i'd rather there be handbook. or at least a stupid ticket that tells you how much between exits.

life has no EZ pass, but thankfully, major highways do.
one remedy down.

-k.


Now playing: Billy Joel - Vienna
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