Today I am sick again, for the umpteenth time in the same amount of months. I have NEVER been sick this often before, and it has gotten to the point where my mother is worried. In her opinion, I might be burning the candle at both ends.
Anyhoodle, I have been thinking about it a lot, because I'd prefer to not be sick all the time, but goodness knows that I can't cut back on work, and cutting back on fun time would mean I'd go out of my mind. I mean... seriously bonkers. I'd probably just give up on work altogether out of sheer anxiety.
And then I realized... Every time I've been sick, it was a week after my roommate. Ant (whom I love) goes to New York all the time and spends several days partying. Whenever she comes home, almost without exception, she's sick with a nasty cold for days. Seeing as all of our toothbrushes, etc. are always in close proximity... and that we live together... it's actually not surprising that I become sick a week later, as soon as I have one night of less than perfect sleep.
EUREKA!!!! Now... how do you get a roommate to stop having an amazing time partying in New York, so that you can be healthier? Anyone? I think first step is to buy myself a new toothbrush holder.
Here's a nice little text conversation that I had with my brother last night while I was giddy off of my evening's event:
Me: A boy likes me!
Brother: Oh God. Please tell me he's over 18.
Me: Man. 29
Brother: Awesome! Do you like him?
Me: Yes! I wouldn't have told you that he liked me if I didn't like him. Guys liking me is par for the course.
Brother: True! Sounds great! Don't tell mom if he's some sort of sexual deviant
Oh yes... that last part is something that I'll have to explain. My mom likes to take one attribute of a guy, be it real or imagined, and call him by that attribute for the rest of time. My poor friend Dan is the sexual deviant. Brian is the robot. Mike is the stoner/pot dealer. The list goes on...
So, just so you all know, I talked myself into being totally okay with just having made out with Justin C, (not to be confused with Justin G) and not having it go anywhere. I was an empowered woman... ready to own my sexuality and emotions. I AM WOMAN, HEAR ME ROAR kinda stuff. Anyhoodle... turns out a lot of that accomplishment was due to the fact that I hadn't seen him, because last night he showed up at a kickball party, and I immediately melted and had to forcefully kick myself into "cool Katie" mode.
I made sure to chat with all my friends, let him start conversations with me and left them before they were 100% through, told funny stories, and danced with a group of people that were in the bar after their leadership conference. (Apparently my friend Liza and I showed great courage when we jumped in the middle of their dance circle, and they wanted to discuss us in tomorrow's class. Obviously these people just don't know what a good time looks like.) Anyway, externally, I was kicking ass and taking names. I was being Katie at her very best. Internally, however, I was a 10-year-old girl wanting to slip him a note asking if he liked me and harshly judging all other girls in the room that spoke with him.
Anyway, the night went on, and I was keeping my cool like the champion that I am... and then at about 11:00 I realized there were only 6 of us left in the bar. Jenna and her boyfriend, Bala and his new lady friend, and me and Justin. I made some statement about needing to think about going home, to which Justin responded that the last bus to his place would be at 11:55pm, and would I like another drink?
Why... OF COURSE I wanted another drink! Little did he know that I hadn't really been drinking any of the beer that he and others had been pouring all night. (Saving up my liver for Saturday night.) Anyway, we pulled up to the bar, and the next thing I know, I'm hearing:
"So, I just wanted to let you know that I think you're really cool. And I want to hang out with you more."
Cool Katie kicked in... "Now, that can be accomplished in a very simple manner. What you do... is you call me."
"I did call you."
"Nah... you kinda texted me at 11:00pm."
"Well, I also facebook chatted you."
(Imagine me waving spirit fingers) "Wooooo!"
"Okay. Okay. I get it. Well, I want to see you more. I like you, and I want to get to know you."
At this point, I noticed he had fuzz on his beard. I reached my left hand out to get it from his beard, not realizing what grabbing for someone's face might also imply... and the next thing I know I was being kissed at the bar in front of.... well, almost no one, but still!!!
"Oh! Oh... I was actually just grabbing at some fuzz that you had in your scruff."
"Oh... I thought you were..." The awkwardness began to blossom on his face.
"Yeah... but I mean, that's totally cool too!" To which he responded with another kiss.
Anyway we chatted at the bar up until the last second possible for him to catch the bus home, at which point I walked him down the street and then got kissed in front of a bus of people. Mmmm... it was a good one. The kind where he almost missed his bus, except that I literally shoved him at it when I realized the bus driver was not amused.
So... all of this is to say: GOOD NEWS! Someone would like to get to know me better!
So I have a blog post that is waiting in the wings, entitled: "A funny thing happened in Bedford." I'd really like to write it for everyone's enjoyment, and maybe even education, but I've run into a snag. That snag is that you all actually know who I am. (Well, except for the few people that have chanced upon my blog from foreign counties, due to the fact that I made a post about the Snuggie Sutra.)
Now, this creates an issue for me. Whenever I want to make a post, I have to consider who might be reading it. I don't think my mom is still reading the blog, but many of my readers have connections to my parents, friends of parents, past educators, or past employers. This hasn't been a huge issue in the past, seeing as most people can stomach the fact that a 24-year-old girl makes out with boys on a regular basis. (Heck, it's not a stretch to believe it's encouraged.) However, if anything could come across as slightly irresponsible or lacking in good judgment, it tends to wind up in me not posting.
In some ways, I think it isn't fair. I have stories that I know my friends have enjoyed (and even encouraged) on a regular basis. People often use the phrase, "This would only happen to you," and a lot of the time it's true! There's something about my curiosity and my willingness to interact with people without judgment that puts me in situations in which most people would never find themselves. EVER.
Let me explain. I am a cultural anthropologist in the truest sense of the word. I am most exhilarated, intrigued, and satisfied by the pursuit of knowledge about people. More specifically, I never tire of learning about how people experience their lives. When someone goes to church, I want to know what they are feeling, what they are thinking, how they understand the experience, why they go, who and what they believe. The religion itself is only of interest to me insomuch as it pertains to the person's individual existence and cognition of that experience.
This can apply to anything. Take body modification, for example. That was an interest that particularly scared my parents. Although I have ear piercings and 2 tattoos, I am hardly what would be considered a true body modification insider. However, I spent hours doing research online for the sheer fun of it. My father, worried that I was about to show up with a forked tongue and some sort of amputation (yes, those do exist as a more extreme version of body modification), gingerly asked me one day why I was so enthralled. I simply said that I wanted to know why.
Why these people show such whole-hearted and enthusiastic devotion to something that can be seen as destructive to the body. I knew from my limited experience the rush that one can feel, and the strength of knowing what you can survive through, but there were sides of it that I couldn't even begin to understand. How does a person find themselves desperately feeling the need to rid themselves of a body part? What is the personal significance of scars left behind after scarification? What does a person tell themselves as their skin is burning from the red-hot brand?
I don't know how many of you would just say, "Who cares? They're crazy!" I've gotten enough weird looks to realize that my sincere interest is quite out of the ordinary. Particularly since I tend to gravitate towards counter-culture, rather than understanding the ways in which cultural norms are understood and upheld in the general population. Finding ways in which people attempt to justify and normalize out-of-the-ordinary behavior is fascinating to me. The lengths that people will go to in order to make their actions mimic the outside norms is extreme and seemingly superfluous, and yet is essential to their ability to comfortably express themselves.
Here's where things get difficult in my wishes to share what fascinates me with you all. Anthropology is entrenched in participant-observation. Now, the extent of "participant" is extremely variable, but observation is absolutely essential to the researching of human beings. OBSERVATION = YOU HAVE TO BE THERE. So, when I am fascinated by something, I find ways to observe, talk to the people involved, and and try to understand on a more personal level what is happening around me.
So let's put this all together. I'm fascinated by people's experiences in counter-cultural acts, and I actively pursue means of observing and interacting with the characters. Can you see how this might be tough to share in a forum where anonymity is not upheld?
So, it comes to this - I'm interested in what you all have to say. What your feelings are about the stories I might be able to tell. I generally ask for comments on any post, but rarely ever get them posted to the blog itself. This time I'm asking you very specifically. Please write below what you think. Is there a possibility that you can detach me from my stories, as I am detached from them? Would you allow yourselves to be just as fascinated by the behaviors of fellow human beings as I am, rather than distracted by the implications of those actions? Can you be anthropologists with me? or are we going to run into issues regarding my reputation?
So if any of y'all have been watching the news, you might have noticed that Boston has been getting COVERED in snow. Last night, a friend and I decided to take advantage of such an abundance. Below, I will show you the steps it took to get a really underwhelming masterpiece, which was several hours in the making. My toes were extremely mad at me for traipsing around in the snow without putting on an extra pair of socks, but it was SO. WORTH. IT.
Here's how to make snow-awesomeness, Katie-style.
Step 1) Prepare colored water in left-over bottles in the apartment using food dye from your cupcake supplies.
Red, Yello, Blue, Green... Probably should have set up some purple.
Step 2) Go outside, pour the colored water evenly over an area of snow, fall over a few times when your feet get stuck, laugh really hard, and turn the colored snow into snowballs.
Justin G. and I made way too many jokes about blue balls.
Step 3) Prepare the snow palate by beating it senseless while yelling, "KEE-YAI!"
Step 4) Spend 15 minutes trying to find something funny to write, give up, and write something obvious but mildly sexual using the colored snowballs.
Step 5) Take more photos, so that people can actually see what you wrote.
Step 6) Decide to write another message that no one will understand, because it's an inside joke between you and Justin G.
"Bee Goo" - It fixes everything.
Step 7) Celebrate! Attempt to revive your toes, which have almost become frostbitten. Realize you're extremely sleepy. Go to sleep.
Step 8) Check to make sure it's still there in the morning.
Step 9) Text a photo to your mom, because she's someone you can count on to be excited about things that really aren't that exciting. :-)
Message: So I saw on the 'The Two of Us' section that you're not willing to have an open/poly relationship. That's a shame since we seem to be, like, the same person otherwise. Anyway, just wanted you to know I think you're rad.
Aww! We'd totally be the same person if it weren't for the fact that we have diametrically opposed views on the value of monogamy and fidelity! Rats!
After 4 days in California, I realized that I had learned A LOT. I figured I'd share the knowledge.
1) Against all "evidence" to the contrary, I have not decreased my frequency of sticking my foot in my mouth. As it turns out, my Boston friends are just willing to give me the benefit of the doubt and let it slide. (Thank you, Boston friends.)
2) When big dudes mention wanting to take hallucinogens, you should kick them out immediately, because big dudes will do what they want, no matter what you say.
3) Ike's sandwiches at Stanford are totally worth the hour and a half wait at lunchtime. Aaron, the awesome guy behind the counter that will have you laughing within 0.5 seconds, is also worth the wait.
4) NEVER drive to the city for dinner on a Saturday night. Get there in the morning and stay, or just don't go. It will be the most frustrating drive/parking experience of your life.
5) I can easily eat 2/3 of a roll of grands biscuits.
6) Striking up a conversation with old ladies at a cafe can be incredibly fun. Also, apparently Maddie does not want to be an adorable old lady, as she would prefer to steal food and have it be blamed on her senility.
7) Slumber parties are awesome at any age.
8) Barrone's is still like catnip to kids I went to school with, even 6 years later.
9) My job is making me a bitter person.
10) Despite all statements to the contrary, my actions would point to me not wanting a relationship any time in the near future.