"i look up--on my knees, and out of luck--i look up"

i hate the phrase don't sweat the small stuff.  it doesn't acknowledge that if you don't tend to some "small stuff," it will snowball into "big stuff."  it also ignores that there's some big stuff you can't really sweat other, because there is simply nothing you can do about it. and, sweating is really gross.

the war never seems to change; a constant fight between what's in your control versus what is not in your control.  it's fueled by battles on two fronts.  one fight is to maintain relationships to the best of your ability without being your own casualty.  the other is to figure out an attack plan at what is thrown your way by God/the universe.  they are violent, vicious, and unrelenting battles that often grow hot at the same time.  oddly enough, it's usually when you're out of ammo and you're armor has worn thin that you're on the verge of victories.

lessons in surrendering and self-prioritizing are never easy lessons to learn, but they often go in tandem.  maybe it's the world's way of ripping off the band-aid at once rather than rehashing such a similar pain that disguises itself in different characters.  if you're self-prioritizing, you likely won't be clinging to a relationship or life disruption that you can't let go of.  when you're what's being magnified by the glass, the rest of the world's distortion is a lot smaller.  the glimpses you catch of something greater will appear distant enough that they look like someone else's problem, and probably someone else a lot greater than you.  this doesn't mean that you should dodge what's falling. then instead of getting hit with a cold snow drift, brought upon by whipping winds and brutal cold, you get hit with a piano or anvil like in old cartoons. you aren't roadrunner. you can't outrun life. but if you're asking the question "why is this happening?," know that there is an answer, but you probably don't have it.

don't hiss at what's in front of you and slither between grounds of self-respect and fear.  if something bites, you can bite back, or at the very least, keep the venom out of your veins.

-k.

now let me at the truth which will refresh my broken mind

when i was 14 i didn't get confirmed in the Catholic church.  i don't know if it was harsh combination of life tests and adolescence, or if all of my years of Catholic schooling didn't drill enough guilt into my bones for not going to mass every Sunday or going to confession when something didn't sit right rather than on a schedule.

i don't hate religion.  it's just not for me, or at least who i am right now.  i believe in pulling pieces of many religions that make sense to me, and living life by those.  it's personal, and it's my own.  religion works well as the a guide for people on various levels of devotion .  the religion i've clicked with most is Bokonism, which is fictional penned by Kurt Vonnegut.  it's accessible foundation doesn't make fate and religion mutually exclusive, which is probably why it resonates with me so strongly.  too bad devout Bokonists are fictional. maybe it's for the best; nobody else can misinterpret these face value ideas if they don't exist.  Vonnegut would also yell at me for that use of a semicolon (look it up).

music is the closest thing i've had to religion.  lately, "The Cave" by Mumford & Sons has been my Vatican 2.  as i departed from Port Authority today (which is Hell if we are continuing with religious themes), i walked East and up towards my apartment.  i accidentally stumbled upon Saint Patrick's cathedral, and intentionally walked in.  the rollercoaster of unemployment has looped my emotions from the height of these Cathedral ceilings to the depths of the subways below.  to my left was an old woman with cold shoulder and a formal prayer, probably saving my soul from hell since in irreverently entered the tourist attraction church with my iPod on.   hooking a sharp right led me to Saint Anthony, the Saint you pray to when you lose those earrings your mom gave you or your credit card or your sense of self.  finding the Saint of lost things so easily was an ironic blessing.  being in a Church big enough to pray with my headphones another blessing.  the sincerest way i know how to pray is through music.

station by station, breath by breath, i could feel my panic easing.  i loosened control of my clenched grip on my own life, and oozed surrender to God/the Universe/insert-your-name-for-what-you-believe-in-here.  inhaling the inspiration around me with rising crescendos and exhaling stress with the rhythm of my heart and this song was possibly my epitome of a religious experience, and i understand if it isn't yours.  the rise and fall of my chest with each breath to the beat of an outside voice doesn't seem that far off from a burning bush or an angel telling a virgin she's preggo.  somewhere in between an uninterested field trip of hip high fourth-graders and hunched over devout man in silence and an oversized cardigan, i was overcome by something greater than i was.  a colorful fleet in prayer brought a moment of peace to an otherwise unconnected, unlikely family.

there were people praying in despair.  there were people praying out of routine.  there were people praying out of gratitude.  there was a homeless man sleeping in a pew and employees gently enforcing rules and a student of a photography project. not everyone their identified with the Catholic religion.  not everyone their was exploring religion.  not everyone there was exploring themselves. not everyone there needed a prayer. but everyone there was under the wing of something great.

at least that's what it sounded like to me.
-k.

The Cave by Mumford & Sons


The sun, it rises slowly as you walk
Away from all the fears
And all the faults you've left behind

The harvest left no food for you to eat
You cannibal, you meat-eater, you see
But I have seen the same
I know the shame in your defeat

But I will hold on hope
And I won't let you choke
On the noose around your neck

And I'll find strength in pain
And I will change my ways
I'll know my name as it's called again

Cause I have other things to fill my time
You take what is yours and I'll take mine
Now let me at the truth
Which will refresh my broken mind

So tie me to a post and block my ears
I can see widows and orphans through my tears
I know my call despite my faults
And despite my growing fears

But I will hold on hope
And I won't let you choke
On the noose around your neck

And I'll find strength in pain
And I will change my ways
I'll know my name as it's called again

So come out of your cave walking on your hands
And see the world hanging upside down
You can understand dependence
When you know the maker's hand

So make your siren's call
And sing all you want
I will not hear what you have to say

Cause I need freedom now
And I need to know how
To live my life as it's meant to be

And I will hold on hope
And I won't let you choke
On the noose around your neck

And I'll find strength in pain
And I will change my ways
I'll know my name as it's called again 

it's the universe, mannn.

my sister's believes that the universe takes care of you when you take care of yourself. i think this makes her a hippie. but her theory may be correct. life does tend to click when you make yourself a priority. the 'high's' that i previously discussed all hit when you are the largest portion on your plate. for a while, i made myself the vegetables that you don't want to eat and mush in with other food or fling across the room at said older sister.

i'm trying to do something for myself daily, particularly while i am unemployed, so that i don't fall into the same trap i did over the summer. my last round of job hunting, which started in May, was particularly taxing because i hadn't been unemployed/not interning since i was 16. i went a little stir crazy. i would sit at my computer, blasting out cover letters and resumes to the masses, personally telling these hundreds of companies that we were mutually eachothers 'best fit.' surprisingly, this gave me little impetus to leave my apartment. many summer days were wasted in front of my lap top, trying to tweak what 'i was doing wrong.'

"it's the economy, stupid!"

i wasn't doing anything wrong, but a lot of my life got out of balance. the only way i was connected to PR was through the work i was voluntarily doing, which thank goodness i was. i gained weight, my stubborn skin broke out again, there was little reason to open the blinds in my apartment, and i was stuck alone with my head.

so this time i am taking control. forcing myself to leave the apartment is half the battle, because once i'm out there, i get to go play in new york city :) once i devised this plan, i got a job interview--for later today. i'm actually nervous, but that's a different post for a different time.

yesterday i went to take pictures in central park. it was beautiful, and also disgusting. it was probably not in the best interest of my immune system, my footwear, or my camera, but i think it was still in my overall best interest.

the universe (and my awesome friend Lindsay) totally responded, maaaan. (insert marijuana intake here). i got a phone inquiring if i wanted to go see john mayer for free/the price of a few beers at Madison Square Garden. i got the phone call five minutes before doors were opening. I. Heart. Manhattan. i was there 45 minutes later, including a hair straightening between the phone call and my arrival. and by was there i mean i was in the 18th row, singing Vultures and dancing to myself.

i have only been to Madison Square Garden for one other concert in my life which was also unexpectedly awesome in a somewhat more planned way. that concert, nearly a year-and-a-half beforehand, marked the start of the traditional calling of my cousin Elisabeth during every concert, coverband, crappy bar houseband, etc. she and i are somewhat musical soulmates. it was with great anticipation i awaited the dialing.

it is generally accepted that John Mayer is an asshole. or at the very least has said some asshole things, including racial slurs and his search for the "Joshua Tree of vaginas." he's lucky he picked Joshua Tree because every other U2 album sucks. i may not have seen him if he had said 'Zooropa' i may not have gone to his show. at one point in his amazing set, he said that "he never meant to sound like an asshole, but that there are a lot of assholes who have said that, so he understands." this sparked two thoughts. first, if he is an asshole, which i think he is, he's at least a real person of an asshole, which i can at least accept. second, shut up and go back to singing. it's like tiger woods...go play golf! they are both the best at what they do, so go do it.

i am rarely speechless, especially when it comes to musicians, but there are few words to describe the level of awesome that resonated from the stage. and i mean awesome as in i was actually in awe, not like the 1993 skateboarding terms (which is also when U2's 'Zooropa' came out I think...definitely NOT awesome).

what an evening. i guess i owe Lindsay and the universe a big thanks. oh and john mayer's not too bad either.

-k.