I can’t breathe. The air I catch in scattered fragments enters my lungs sharp, cold, fast. My skin is hot.
It’s not real.
But I want to grab her hand and run, escape from the horror grasping at her ankles. It used to be her close friend, a boy. She trusted him, but obsession has twisted him, and he’s not even human anymore, not really, or maybe he’s all too human, all too real.
It’s a story, and I know before the door opens that the hero will save her. It’s not real; it’s just a story.
But I still can’t breathe. My eyes burn, but I can’t cry. I suck down water to douse the fire under my skin. I cry.
It wasn’t real.
My big sister finds me in our room, breathing too hard too fast.
I brokenly tell her, the unreal and the real. She understands. It’s July, and she’s known since last September when one Sunday afternoon I sat on my bed, bawling, for an hour, until all of my emotion mixed with salt had streamed from my eyes, leaving me numb and tired.
She waits until I’ve expelled most of my distress in carbon dioxide, pushed from my exhausted lungs. She distracts me, takes me to watch a show with her friends. She doesn’t like to be touched, but she lets me curl up against her.
He used to be my friend, someone I trusted.
I’m hollow again, numb.
Showing posts with label Friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Friends. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 1, 2017
Saturday, March 12, 2016
Of Weather, Piano, and Accidental Caffeine Dependency
A year ago, I was a polar bear sliding across the icy terrain of my yard. This year, the weather has been just as temperamental, alternating between the usual freezing temperatures of early March and the warmth of late spring. I prefer the latter. Walking to work in the cold is never fun for me, but I do recognize the beauty of the cold, for if not for red tipped noses and ears, I might not remember to love the kiss of the warming sun on my cheek. On the days when the weather has been pleasant, I walk for about an hour. It's a learning experience in some ways. I'm able to examine myself apart from the constricting world of concrete and right angles, where I am just me. I have learned and been reminded of the following.
When I'm not outside, I tend to be easily found near a piano, having finally begun learning to play this year. I've been a singer for years, but the piano has always held an enchantment for me. When I was a child, my mother would play piano in our house very rarely, but every time she did, I would hurry over to her as fast as my little legs would carry me. Sometimes, I would sit on the piano bench next to her until I couldn't make myself hold still any longer, but more often, I would dance, imagining a prince or just spinning in endless circles to the point that I either sat down or fell over from dizziness. She would play more often at my great grandmother's home, or my aunt would play. After they left that piano, I would scramble onto the bench and try to play like they had, my feet swinging in the air. Short, disconnected melodies would stumble from my finger tips, but as time went on, I seemed to create more dissonance than harmony, and I eventually left the piano to itself. Even my attempt to teach myself to play when I was in junior high was short lived.
This past fall, I was brought back to the piano, largely by Wolfe. He was a new friend who one day mentioned that he was going to go practice piano, and on a whim, I asked if I could come listen. Eventually, I would regularly join him when he went to practice. As he learned on YouTube to play new pieces of slowly increasing difficulty, I sat on the floor in the corner of the practice room, my head leaning back against the wall, and the piano wrapped me in its familiar voice, singing its ballads and lullabies. Wolfe has told me that he probably would have eventually stopped practicing if I hadn't been coming to listen. Without him, I likely would never have considered trying once more to learn the songs of the piano. Currently, we're taking a beginning level class together, and I am loving it. I find myself increasingly fond of three four time, waltzes in particular, but other pieces as well.
I have officially fallen in love with the piano once more. My sister was apathetic as to this development. However, once I mentioned to her that I was hoping to eventually be able to play theme music from our favorite anime (in particular Mikoto Suoh's theme from K Project), she took a sudden interest in my progress. I look forward to being able to play it for her eventually, but also to be able to play it myself, feeling the motion of the sound and letting it flow through me like electricity through wires.
Also of recent interest, I ran out of my usual morning herbal tea in early January. Mornings, cold ones in particular, tend to be rather hard to face without a warm cup of tea. In the face of the void my herbal left behind, I utilized a box of black tea for the rest of the month. It wasn't too different until I simultaneously ran out of the black tea and gained more of my usual herbal. The Monday I switched back was merely groggy at first, but eventually I became convinced that either my skull was attempting to liquefy or some kind of heavy gremlin was doing its best to wrap its jaws around my head. By evening, I had a low level migraine that was barely fended off by the caffeine in soda. The next day was marginally better, but still painful. That Wednesday, I decided that if my skull was going to throw a temper tantrum, I was not going to give it what it wanted. Thus, I have quit caffeine all together, including black teas and most sodas. I'll likely return to my previous ways in a few weeks (oh how I miss my usual dark sodas and the occasional black tea), but I don't plan on drinking black tea every morning anymore. Coffee is an absolute no. I refuse to start that habit. No matter how lovely it smells, I cannot abide the taste.
- Wild flowers in late winter make me laugh with joy.
- I have a habit of addressing the animals I talk to as Beautiful. (No. They do not talk back.)
- Finding an armadillo makes me ridiculously happy for some unknown reason.
- Downhill was made for running down with reckless abandon.
- God's magic and miracles are everywhere, from the enchanted threads of spiderwebs to the ground that supports the weight of my overflowing heart.
- Outside heals wounds I don't remember I have.
When I'm not outside, I tend to be easily found near a piano, having finally begun learning to play this year. I've been a singer for years, but the piano has always held an enchantment for me. When I was a child, my mother would play piano in our house very rarely, but every time she did, I would hurry over to her as fast as my little legs would carry me. Sometimes, I would sit on the piano bench next to her until I couldn't make myself hold still any longer, but more often, I would dance, imagining a prince or just spinning in endless circles to the point that I either sat down or fell over from dizziness. She would play more often at my great grandmother's home, or my aunt would play. After they left that piano, I would scramble onto the bench and try to play like they had, my feet swinging in the air. Short, disconnected melodies would stumble from my finger tips, but as time went on, I seemed to create more dissonance than harmony, and I eventually left the piano to itself. Even my attempt to teach myself to play when I was in junior high was short lived.
This past fall, I was brought back to the piano, largely by Wolfe. He was a new friend who one day mentioned that he was going to go practice piano, and on a whim, I asked if I could come listen. Eventually, I would regularly join him when he went to practice. As he learned on YouTube to play new pieces of slowly increasing difficulty, I sat on the floor in the corner of the practice room, my head leaning back against the wall, and the piano wrapped me in its familiar voice, singing its ballads and lullabies. Wolfe has told me that he probably would have eventually stopped practicing if I hadn't been coming to listen. Without him, I likely would never have considered trying once more to learn the songs of the piano. Currently, we're taking a beginning level class together, and I am loving it. I find myself increasingly fond of three four time, waltzes in particular, but other pieces as well.
I have officially fallen in love with the piano once more. My sister was apathetic as to this development. However, once I mentioned to her that I was hoping to eventually be able to play theme music from our favorite anime (in particular Mikoto Suoh's theme from K Project), she took a sudden interest in my progress. I look forward to being able to play it for her eventually, but also to be able to play it myself, feeling the motion of the sound and letting it flow through me like electricity through wires.
Also of recent interest, I ran out of my usual morning herbal tea in early January. Mornings, cold ones in particular, tend to be rather hard to face without a warm cup of tea. In the face of the void my herbal left behind, I utilized a box of black tea for the rest of the month. It wasn't too different until I simultaneously ran out of the black tea and gained more of my usual herbal. The Monday I switched back was merely groggy at first, but eventually I became convinced that either my skull was attempting to liquefy or some kind of heavy gremlin was doing its best to wrap its jaws around my head. By evening, I had a low level migraine that was barely fended off by the caffeine in soda. The next day was marginally better, but still painful. That Wednesday, I decided that if my skull was going to throw a temper tantrum, I was not going to give it what it wanted. Thus, I have quit caffeine all together, including black teas and most sodas. I'll likely return to my previous ways in a few weeks (oh how I miss my usual dark sodas and the occasional black tea), but I don't plan on drinking black tea every morning anymore. Coffee is an absolute no. I refuse to start that habit. No matter how lovely it smells, I cannot abide the taste.
Sunday, December 20, 2015
Warriors
Last month, I was sitting outside enjoying the warm weather, when a spot of color on the grey rocks caught my eye.
Most of my friends consider wasps to be generally evil and best dead or non-existent. To a point, I understand them. The stings are painful and being allergic would make the matter even worse. As for me, wasps have never bothered me. I respect them and leave them alone, and they return the favor. One journal entry from my junior high years details a class period in which I did my best to dissuade a wasp from flying through an open window, lest he be slain by my excitable comrades (I had named him Charles), and in some ways I am quite the same as I was then.
This wasp in particular was rather calm, choosing to walk rather than fly, which allowed me some interaction. I sat down and placed my hand beside him. He slowly crawled onto one of my fingers, crossed to the next, and then disembarked, a quiet and peaceful greeting. I pulled my camera out of my bag and took a few pictures of him as he roamed the rocky expanse. He was not threatening to me, physically or mentally, so I lay down on the ground watching him walk, the movement of his feet, the tilt of his wings, and his restful pauses. When I was forced to leave and continue my day, he was still there, and I cannot help but wonder what he might have told me if I could have understood.
Nearly a week later, I was lost in a train station of thought, not quite ready to board any train in particular. Contemplations, ideas, and dreams bustled about me, pushing, ambling, or simply standing in place as I was. A pondering waved as it passed and, not seeing where it was going, crashed into a rushing thought. The two of them fell over on top of memories of the wasp, which had been sitting cross-legged staring at the ceiling. My love of watercolor stopped to help them up, and there I was able to focus on the four of them, follow, and board the same train. The destination was an image and the desire to paint it.
I worked on it on and off for about a month, not because it was overly difficult or large, but because I was occupied with other activities as well. When I finally finished, I was excited. Yes, I messed up several times in several places. I almost gave up when I was working on the fire. But my wasp is so close to the image I had in my head that I don’t mind the smudges, smears, and regretted decisions as much as I might otherwise.
A flaming wasp in the rain to “cool,” but "cool" is not my intent.
A wasp is more than an annoying or even threatening bug to be slain on a whim. Sometimes, such actions must be taken, but not always. What is it like inside one's head? I imagine that sometimes a wasp must be awfully afraid. They live in a world so much larger in comparison to them than we do. How can such a small creature hope to survive in an existence teaming with giants and ogres? But wasps continue anyway, even striking fear into the hearts of their enemies. They are natural warriors with armor and weapons that they are never physically able to set down.
Humans really are small too. On some scales, we make about as much difference as wasps do. So why bother? Many people don't, but there are a few who are born warriors, much like wasps. They put their hearts on the line every moment of every day to push back the Darkness, everything from their own rage to the all too real nightmares of others, and they burn; they burn with a stunning light. The light and fire they carry within them has immense potential for destruction, their own as well as others', but they choose instead to protect. However, burning and fighting with such intensity wears on them, and often they long to stop their flight, to land, but the armor is part of their DNA, an exoskeleton. Even when they land, feet on solid ground, they can never take that armor off. So they fly, they fly through the darkness, inner light burning brilliantly, even when the sky lets loose torrents of rain, even when they feel infinitely small.
These are the Christians who pull us back on our feet when we fall, look us in the eye, and tell us it’s not the end of the world. They’ve been where we’ve been, and they’ve helped so many people before us. They remind us that sometimes we do have to fight.
I am not a wasp as much as I am a bee: fluffier and less likely to attack. Not everyone was designed to be a wasp after all, but we can still make a difference in our terrifyingly large world, even if that difference is only to a single flower.
Most of my friends consider wasps to be generally evil and best dead or non-existent. To a point, I understand them. The stings are painful and being allergic would make the matter even worse. As for me, wasps have never bothered me. I respect them and leave them alone, and they return the favor. One journal entry from my junior high years details a class period in which I did my best to dissuade a wasp from flying through an open window, lest he be slain by my excitable comrades (I had named him Charles), and in some ways I am quite the same as I was then.
This wasp in particular was rather calm, choosing to walk rather than fly, which allowed me some interaction. I sat down and placed my hand beside him. He slowly crawled onto one of my fingers, crossed to the next, and then disembarked, a quiet and peaceful greeting. I pulled my camera out of my bag and took a few pictures of him as he roamed the rocky expanse. He was not threatening to me, physically or mentally, so I lay down on the ground watching him walk, the movement of his feet, the tilt of his wings, and his restful pauses. When I was forced to leave and continue my day, he was still there, and I cannot help but wonder what he might have told me if I could have understood.
Nearly a week later, I was lost in a train station of thought, not quite ready to board any train in particular. Contemplations, ideas, and dreams bustled about me, pushing, ambling, or simply standing in place as I was. A pondering waved as it passed and, not seeing where it was going, crashed into a rushing thought. The two of them fell over on top of memories of the wasp, which had been sitting cross-legged staring at the ceiling. My love of watercolor stopped to help them up, and there I was able to focus on the four of them, follow, and board the same train. The destination was an image and the desire to paint it.
I worked on it on and off for about a month, not because it was overly difficult or large, but because I was occupied with other activities as well. When I finally finished, I was excited. Yes, I messed up several times in several places. I almost gave up when I was working on the fire. But my wasp is so close to the image I had in my head that I don’t mind the smudges, smears, and regretted decisions as much as I might otherwise.
A flaming wasp in the rain to “cool,” but "cool" is not my intent.
A wasp is more than an annoying or even threatening bug to be slain on a whim. Sometimes, such actions must be taken, but not always. What is it like inside one's head? I imagine that sometimes a wasp must be awfully afraid. They live in a world so much larger in comparison to them than we do. How can such a small creature hope to survive in an existence teaming with giants and ogres? But wasps continue anyway, even striking fear into the hearts of their enemies. They are natural warriors with armor and weapons that they are never physically able to set down.
Humans really are small too. On some scales, we make about as much difference as wasps do. So why bother? Many people don't, but there are a few who are born warriors, much like wasps. They put their hearts on the line every moment of every day to push back the Darkness, everything from their own rage to the all too real nightmares of others, and they burn; they burn with a stunning light. The light and fire they carry within them has immense potential for destruction, their own as well as others', but they choose instead to protect. However, burning and fighting with such intensity wears on them, and often they long to stop their flight, to land, but the armor is part of their DNA, an exoskeleton. Even when they land, feet on solid ground, they can never take that armor off. So they fly, they fly through the darkness, inner light burning brilliantly, even when the sky lets loose torrents of rain, even when they feel infinitely small.
These are the Christians who pull us back on our feet when we fall, look us in the eye, and tell us it’s not the end of the world. They’ve been where we’ve been, and they’ve helped so many people before us. They remind us that sometimes we do have to fight.
I am not a wasp as much as I am a bee: fluffier and less likely to attack. Not everyone was designed to be a wasp after all, but we can still make a difference in our terrifyingly large world, even if that difference is only to a single flower.
Merry Christmas.
I’m so grateful for all of you, warriors or not.
Love,
Kara
Friday, November 13, 2015
In Case of Campus War or Invasion
College or University campuses are often much like their own worlds; even ones that are open to the public to wander about in have a different feel to them than the rest of the towns they occupy. Within campuses are different factions of students, usually created by residence halls, majors, and/or clubs. These factions are highly competitive, frequently competing with each other with tooth and nail in campus events.
One day it may not end with the games.
One day, a faction may rise, smearing the blood of their enemies across their faces (or maybe just the ketchup from the student cafeteria), and declare that they will take campus by force, regardless of offers to surrender peacefully.
One day they may spread to another campus in their maddened frenzy for power.
Or
Zombies, aliens, or both will invade campus.
Regardless, college and university students have various options to increase survival.
Campus Familiarity: Indispensable.
Layout: When running and/or hiding from an enemy, know where you are and where you are going. Trying to use a map will slow you down. Maps do not show you short cuts either. Take walks around campus often, exploring new areas.
Buildings: Know which buildings store what materials and which would make for the best base of operations. Is there chloroform in the science building? Where is the clinic, and what antibiotics are readily available there? Which building is easiest to barricade and defend? This is all important and should be taken into account. Unless the business building is the best built or closest to several buildings that you will need access to, it is not likely to make an efficient base.
Rations: Starving during war or invasion is less than ideal.
Campus Bookstore: The campus bookstore rarely has only books. Generally this is where students can find shirts, jackets, umbrellas, and other various merchandise that has the school name and mascot on it. There are also microwavable foods and candy bars. Clothes and food are fundamental rations.
Vending Machines: Know where the vending machines are. Take special note of what each one has to offer. Chances are, there will be some variation.
Store Runs: College and University students will often take trips off campus to buy food items that the bookstore or vending machines may not have, such as canned foods. When on a food run, purchase a little more than is absolutely necessary and stash it somewhere safe. Unless there is a sale, buying extra in bulk is not recommended because, as a student, you have little money and need to pay for laundry, which is still important at this point.
Dorm Rooms: Be aware of how much food is where. Chances are, many of your neighbors will die in the initial outbreak of violence as well as later on, and their food stashes will be free for your use.
Team: Yes, this does have to be a group project if you want better chances of survival.
Basic Team Building: This may be difficult for introverts (like myself) to accept, but long-term survival requires a team, and that means socializing beforehand in order to identify the best candidates. These people will need to be able to get along well under the worst conditions as well as have practical skills. Never select someone based on appearance. Betty may be pretty, but if she has nothing else to add, she'll likely get someone killed. If one of your candidates is in a relationship, either reject that one or be prepared to support the extra member (unless you wanted both of them anyway). Melodrama is a headache at best. Also: pick people who are just a little crazy, but also reasonable. Balance between logic and free creativity.
Recruitment: Be tactful. If they think you're insane, they'll have nothing to do with you.
Leader: Having a leader is crucial. This will be the person who will make decisions and has to get along well with the team. He or she must be logical and caring. Life must be valued, but willing to be sacrificed when necessary. It's a hard role, and while many may clamber for it, very few can be trusted with it. Be wise when selecting your leader.
Other Offices: You will need people of widely varying skill sets. Your team may designate jobs such as spy, procurer of transportation, etc. You could also have only the leader named and the rest simply teammates. So long as everyone is somehow useful, the team should hold together.
Weapon Planning: Anything is a possible weapon, and different team members will be skilled with different types of weapons. Know who is best with what and then provide it.
Alternate Plans: Have a plan B. Also have many, many more plans. Know where to flee on campus and off. Do any of your teammates live far away from campus and other civilization? Go there. Anyone have ammunition at home? Stop there on the way. But always, be willing to change your plans.
One day it may not end with the games.
One day, a faction may rise, smearing the blood of their enemies across their faces (or maybe just the ketchup from the student cafeteria), and declare that they will take campus by force, regardless of offers to surrender peacefully.
One day they may spread to another campus in their maddened frenzy for power.
Or
Zombies, aliens, or both will invade campus.
Regardless, college and university students have various options to increase survival.
Prepare
Always be as prepared as possible before war or invasion breaks out. Your friends will be grateful for a reduction of team deaths or captures by the enemy on your part.Campus Familiarity: Indispensable.
Layout: When running and/or hiding from an enemy, know where you are and where you are going. Trying to use a map will slow you down. Maps do not show you short cuts either. Take walks around campus often, exploring new areas.
Buildings: Know which buildings store what materials and which would make for the best base of operations. Is there chloroform in the science building? Where is the clinic, and what antibiotics are readily available there? Which building is easiest to barricade and defend? This is all important and should be taken into account. Unless the business building is the best built or closest to several buildings that you will need access to, it is not likely to make an efficient base.
Rations: Starving during war or invasion is less than ideal.
Campus Bookstore: The campus bookstore rarely has only books. Generally this is where students can find shirts, jackets, umbrellas, and other various merchandise that has the school name and mascot on it. There are also microwavable foods and candy bars. Clothes and food are fundamental rations.
Vending Machines: Know where the vending machines are. Take special note of what each one has to offer. Chances are, there will be some variation.
Store Runs: College and University students will often take trips off campus to buy food items that the bookstore or vending machines may not have, such as canned foods. When on a food run, purchase a little more than is absolutely necessary and stash it somewhere safe. Unless there is a sale, buying extra in bulk is not recommended because, as a student, you have little money and need to pay for laundry, which is still important at this point.
Dorm Rooms: Be aware of how much food is where. Chances are, many of your neighbors will die in the initial outbreak of violence as well as later on, and their food stashes will be free for your use.
Team: Yes, this does have to be a group project if you want better chances of survival.
Basic Team Building: This may be difficult for introverts (like myself) to accept, but long-term survival requires a team, and that means socializing beforehand in order to identify the best candidates. These people will need to be able to get along well under the worst conditions as well as have practical skills. Never select someone based on appearance. Betty may be pretty, but if she has nothing else to add, she'll likely get someone killed. If one of your candidates is in a relationship, either reject that one or be prepared to support the extra member (unless you wanted both of them anyway). Melodrama is a headache at best. Also: pick people who are just a little crazy, but also reasonable. Balance between logic and free creativity.
Recruitment: Be tactful. If they think you're insane, they'll have nothing to do with you.
Leader: Having a leader is crucial. This will be the person who will make decisions and has to get along well with the team. He or she must be logical and caring. Life must be valued, but willing to be sacrificed when necessary. It's a hard role, and while many may clamber for it, very few can be trusted with it. Be wise when selecting your leader.
Other Offices: You will need people of widely varying skill sets. Your team may designate jobs such as spy, procurer of transportation, etc. You could also have only the leader named and the rest simply teammates. So long as everyone is somehow useful, the team should hold together.
Weapon Planning: Anything is a possible weapon, and different team members will be skilled with different types of weapons. Know who is best with what and then provide it.
Alternate Plans: Have a plan B. Also have many, many more plans. Know where to flee on campus and off. Do any of your teammates live far away from campus and other civilization? Go there. Anyone have ammunition at home? Stop there on the way. But always, be willing to change your plans.
During
Team Work: Listen to your leader, cooperate with your team, and be willing to set yourself aside for their sake. A lot will go wrong, but it may not go as badly as possible.
Base and Rations: Be aware of how long you will be able to stay at your base. Rations for that location will eventually run out, even if you feel inclined to experiment with cannibalism (not recommended). Know how long your rations will last and how far you will be able to travel on those rations before needing more. Plan accordingly.
Base and Rations: Be aware of how long you will be able to stay at your base. Rations for that location will eventually run out, even if you feel inclined to experiment with cannibalism (not recommended). Know how long your rations will last and how far you will be able to travel on those rations before needing more. Plan accordingly.
Many thanks to Jason for his help with this post as well as for his valued friendship.
Tuesday, October 20, 2015
Amber
In memory of a dear friend. For her, those she touched, and those like her.
I'm beautiful
you tell me.
I am your dream,
but why am
I unable to sleep?
You want me near
you all times.
I haven't seen
friends or close
relatives for a while.
It's safe inside
where others
can't see me or
hurt what's yours.
You say I'm your princess.
You never mean
to hurt me.
You wish I would
understand.
I think I'm scared of you.
Maybe I do
deserve this.
Surely I am
the reason.
This is for my own good.
It's love?
If I let you beat me,
will you be satisfied?
If I do all you say,
will you stop hurting me?
Pain.
Screaming.
Broken skin.
Fresh, dark bruises.
Please let me rest.
I promise
you can proceed.
I beg you
a moment, please, of rest.
You fell asleep.
And I knew
If I stayed here
I would die.
I had to escape this.
No more.
I have turned my weakness
into strength,
My running blood
to amber,
gem of courage.
Because I was broken
I can help
heal those like me.
I reach out
into darkness.
They are lost in the dark
as I was.
I bring them home,
back to light;
they aren't alone.
I touch lives and change them.
Whole classrooms.
Individuals.
Forever
taking new course.
From weak to strong,
I am anew.
My Father calls.
"It's time to rest.
"Come Home."
Wednesday, November 26, 2014
Thanksgiving Again
It snowed today. I woke up to see huge, fat flakes meandering their way down. This lasted for two or three hours before it promptly melted. No winter wonderland for exploring just yet.
In a few hours, it will be Thanksgiving. There aren't really many songs for this holiday, except the few designed for elementary students. Why? Because it's hard to sell products on a day when we are to be thankful for what we have. Why else does Christmas music invade our homes earlier and earlier? Anyway, it has been a while since my last list. I am a blessed child of God, and I will not turn a blind eye to the blessings he bestows upon me.
Tomorrow, I will visit with family and celebrate the many, many blessings my Lord has showered on me and mine, but in the following days, I won't forget my blessings, and I will continue to try my best to be a blessing to others and show them the love of the King through me.
Happy Thanksgiving, and have safe travels.
In a few hours, it will be Thanksgiving. There aren't really many songs for this holiday, except the few designed for elementary students. Why? Because it's hard to sell products on a day when we are to be thankful for what we have. Why else does Christmas music invade our homes earlier and earlier? Anyway, it has been a while since my last list. I am a blessed child of God, and I will not turn a blind eye to the blessings he bestows upon me.
- Amazing parents who have raised me in Christ's ways and who love me dearly
- Being near my big sister after a month of her absence
- Being able to talk to my sister with nothing held back, just like when we were little, despite the little time we are able to spend together these days
- Staying up late with my sister last night
- My close friend Christian and his amazing taste in music
- The music Christian gave me on a flash drive that made my day last week
- My Lizzy kitten (Lil-Bit) who curls up with me every night, sometimes even under the covers
- My church family
- Being told by one of my church members that when she looks at me, she sees my great grandma (who was an extraordinary christian woman)
- Big brothers who treat me like their own blood
- My visit with Ace and Kirito yesterday
- The christian webcomic From Nothing
- Hugs
- Music
- Books
- Naps
- Art
- Chocolate
- More chocolate
Tomorrow, I will visit with family and celebrate the many, many blessings my Lord has showered on me and mine, but in the following days, I won't forget my blessings, and I will continue to try my best to be a blessing to others and show them the love of the King through me.
Happy Thanksgiving, and have safe travels.
Sunday, October 26, 2014
Another Birthday
This post is on the topic of my big brother Ace. He is often insane, as far as I am concerned, and I doubt he could count how many times he has hurt himself with reckless behavior, but he has fun and he hasn't died yet, so I let it slide.
His birthday was Saturday, so I put together a little present for him.
It's a jar of paper stars designed to resemble the stars in Mario that give the player invincibility for a limited time. Considering his last blog post, I think he needs a little invincibility every once and a while.
Since Ace became my big brother during my freshman year of high school, he has always done his best to keep me safe. To reiterate: Ace is not actually related to me, but once I started calling him Big Brother, he took the job head on. He insists on screening any potential boyfriends and can be relied on to say they are not worthy whether or not he has actually met him yet. He really does care.
I met Ace at lunch the first day of my freshman year (note: he was a big, scary junior). At our school, there were two lunch periods, and I, of course, was in a period where I knew basically no one. I was near the verge of tears, but one of the upperclassmen took pity on me and let me sit with her. I was more than a little shy and didn't say much. When her boyfriend came to sit with the little group we were part of, all chances of me peeking out of my social shell were obliterated. There were several days, in fact, multiple weeks, during which I refused to speak to him. He terrified me for the simple reasons that he was older than me and he is a boy. The girls in our little lunch group tried to make me comfortable around him, often saying "He's just a big teddy bear!" I did not believe that.
Eventually, I did learn to trust him, and he became one of my closest friends. So, happy birthday Big Bro. Do try not to get hurt more than necessary. :)
His birthday was Saturday, so I put together a little present for him.
It's a jar of paper stars designed to resemble the stars in Mario that give the player invincibility for a limited time. Considering his last blog post, I think he needs a little invincibility every once and a while.
Since Ace became my big brother during my freshman year of high school, he has always done his best to keep me safe. To reiterate: Ace is not actually related to me, but once I started calling him Big Brother, he took the job head on. He insists on screening any potential boyfriends and can be relied on to say they are not worthy whether or not he has actually met him yet. He really does care.
I met Ace at lunch the first day of my freshman year (note: he was a big, scary junior). At our school, there were two lunch periods, and I, of course, was in a period where I knew basically no one. I was near the verge of tears, but one of the upperclassmen took pity on me and let me sit with her. I was more than a little shy and didn't say much. When her boyfriend came to sit with the little group we were part of, all chances of me peeking out of my social shell were obliterated. There were several days, in fact, multiple weeks, during which I refused to speak to him. He terrified me for the simple reasons that he was older than me and he is a boy. The girls in our little lunch group tried to make me comfortable around him, often saying "He's just a big teddy bear!" I did not believe that.
Eventually, I did learn to trust him, and he became one of my closest friends. So, happy birthday Big Bro. Do try not to get hurt more than necessary. :)
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Befriending Big Brother
Today is my big brother Kirito's birthday (called Death on big brother Ace's blog). The youngest of my honorary older brothers, he is also the most recent to be adopted, as it were.
I had been aware, for a few years, of Kirito as an upperclassmen. I'd seen him repeatedly in the halls and had the vague knowledge that he was smart and played computer games. He was on academic team as well, and would quite often give people mint gum for no real reason. I found it fascinating, the different kinds he would produce, all mint: spearmint, winter mint, etc. Naturally, I wanted to befriend him. There was only one problem: I am incredibly shy.
My freshmen year, my sister and I became fans of the writer Ted Dekker, and it is only natural that we would share the names of any other fans we came across. Kirito was one my sister mentioned. Almost the entire school year later, Kirito and I were both on a bus letting other people off before us. I had been reading Dekker's Thre3, and I still wanted to befriend Kirito. However, I was terrified to start the conversation, so I readjusted my hold on the book to a position that, while it was slightly uncomfortable, looked natural and allowed him to see the cover. Somehow, it worked.
"That's a good book."
"Really?" I looked up at him (he's actually quite tall).
"Yeah." He smiled gently.
And there lay two problems in my plan.
In the Mrs. T's classroom, we could have very easily spoken rarely, staying to our own tasks. That is not what happened. Starting the first day, Kirito would talk to me. I had never heard him talk so much before. He told me about anime, music, and multiple other topics. Many days, he would work with one earbud in, and I would look up from helping a student to see him air drumming to the music. A few times, it looked like he was pretending to beat the children over their heads. He wasn't though; he was just lost in the music. I came to know his quirks of behavior: how he can't tell a story he likes without standing up and how he practically glows when he's talking about something he loves.
We would talk in the hall after that period too. He could make me really laugh, something that didn't happen often that year. We discussed choice weapons in a fantasy setting. His was the scythe, and he correctly guessed mine: bow and arrow. We also discussed Ted Dekker. He didn't remember how he knew that I was aware of his love of Dekker's books, but when I brought them up, he beamed. "You remembered!"
My junior year was hard. I had days when all I wanted to do was curl up in a corner and cry until I passed out from exhaustion. I felt alone, utterly alone. My closest friends were disappearing, some had graduated the year before and others were gone for different reasons. I don't know if I could have survived the school year without him.
So, long story short, happy birthday Kirito. I am so glad you talked to me and became my big brother.
I had been aware, for a few years, of Kirito as an upperclassmen. I'd seen him repeatedly in the halls and had the vague knowledge that he was smart and played computer games. He was on academic team as well, and would quite often give people mint gum for no real reason. I found it fascinating, the different kinds he would produce, all mint: spearmint, winter mint, etc. Naturally, I wanted to befriend him. There was only one problem: I am incredibly shy.
My freshmen year, my sister and I became fans of the writer Ted Dekker, and it is only natural that we would share the names of any other fans we came across. Kirito was one my sister mentioned. Almost the entire school year later, Kirito and I were both on a bus letting other people off before us. I had been reading Dekker's Thre3, and I still wanted to befriend Kirito. However, I was terrified to start the conversation, so I readjusted my hold on the book to a position that, while it was slightly uncomfortable, looked natural and allowed him to see the cover. Somehow, it worked.
"That's a good book."
"Really?" I looked up at him (he's actually quite tall).
"Yeah." He smiled gently.
And there lay two problems in my plan.
- I hadn't read enough of the book yet to make it into a conversation.
- Even if I had, I was too shy to do so.
In the Mrs. T's classroom, we could have very easily spoken rarely, staying to our own tasks. That is not what happened. Starting the first day, Kirito would talk to me. I had never heard him talk so much before. He told me about anime, music, and multiple other topics. Many days, he would work with one earbud in, and I would look up from helping a student to see him air drumming to the music. A few times, it looked like he was pretending to beat the children over their heads. He wasn't though; he was just lost in the music. I came to know his quirks of behavior: how he can't tell a story he likes without standing up and how he practically glows when he's talking about something he loves.
We would talk in the hall after that period too. He could make me really laugh, something that didn't happen often that year. We discussed choice weapons in a fantasy setting. His was the scythe, and he correctly guessed mine: bow and arrow. We also discussed Ted Dekker. He didn't remember how he knew that I was aware of his love of Dekker's books, but when I brought them up, he beamed. "You remembered!"
My junior year was hard. I had days when all I wanted to do was curl up in a corner and cry until I passed out from exhaustion. I felt alone, utterly alone. My closest friends were disappearing, some had graduated the year before and others were gone for different reasons. I don't know if I could have survived the school year without him.
So, long story short, happy birthday Kirito. I am so glad you talked to me and became my big brother.
Thursday, February 13, 2014
Valentine's Day 2014
Happy Valentine's Day! I hope you are the recipient of many hugs and much chocolate. In my life are many prominent couples: my grandparents, my mom and dad, my brother Ace and his fiancee, and my youngest brother and his girlfriend. These couples are horribly sweet, and I love them very much.
That being said, there are some pretty awesome singles in my life too: my three oldest brothers (as far as I know), my wonderful older sister, and some of my close friends. Some of those said friends are rather proud of being single and celebrate the fourteenth of February as Singles Awareness Day. I don't quite think that the word used should be awareness though. Celebration, that works better. Awareness is most often used for diseases. It makes it sound like we're going to die unless we get boyfriends (or girlfriends as the case may be). Please, enough with the melodrama. Being single is actually pretty awesome when it's all said and done.
I thoroughly enjoy being single, but I won't bash couples. They have the gift of one another. Please don't complain about them being happy together. That doesn't speak well of you, even if you're otherwise awesome.
So, happy Valentine's Day, dear couples. Enjoy each other. In your loved one you have a constant comfort and (hopefully) entertainment.
Happy Singles Celebration, dear singles. Don't worry about being a third wheel. Be a unicycle! Those are really cool and take a lot of talent.
Much love,
Kara
That being said, there are some pretty awesome singles in my life too: my three oldest brothers (as far as I know), my wonderful older sister, and some of my close friends. Some of those said friends are rather proud of being single and celebrate the fourteenth of February as Singles Awareness Day. I don't quite think that the word used should be awareness though. Celebration, that works better. Awareness is most often used for diseases. It makes it sound like we're going to die unless we get boyfriends (or girlfriends as the case may be). Please, enough with the melodrama. Being single is actually pretty awesome when it's all said and done.
- All the chocolate you buy can go to you (and deserving friends, but they don't have to know that you have chocolate, and what they don't know won't hurt them).
- So much time is freed up when you don't have to be in contact over text or social media all the time, let alone actually being with someone.
- You don't have to shave (to be quite frank that does apply to both genders).
- Money spent on gifts and dates can be spent another way, say books, video games, car or truck, or even chocolate. (There's no going wrong with chocolate.)
- You don't have to check with the boyfriend before you schedule something. It's really all about spontaneity.
- You can drop off of the grid of communication for a full week and no one would make a fuss.
- Bacon.
- You can be as geeky or crazy as you want. No one will restrain you.
- There are no friends of the boyfriend that you really dislike that you have to put up with, when there is no boyfriend.
I thoroughly enjoy being single, but I won't bash couples. They have the gift of one another. Please don't complain about them being happy together. That doesn't speak well of you, even if you're otherwise awesome.
So, happy Valentine's Day, dear couples. Enjoy each other. In your loved one you have a constant comfort and (hopefully) entertainment.
Happy Singles Celebration, dear singles. Don't worry about being a third wheel. Be a unicycle! Those are really cool and take a lot of talent.
Much love,
Kara
Sunday, April 28, 2013
A Most Sincere Letter to Pinterest
Pinterest,
We've gotten to know each other very well in the last few months, and I find you to be more amiable than facebook. I haven't been as amazing a friend to you as you are to me, but that's because it's difficult with you being a website and all. Even so, I find that I spend inordinate amounts of time with you. If you were a person, we'd probably get along quite well.
It's just, well, I need to spend more time doing things instead of looking at pretty pictures. It's not that you're without your uses. I'll still visit for artistic purposes and practical household advice, but even though you can steal hours of my day, you can make me smile. I promise to still visit.
Yours truly,
Kara
We've gotten to know each other very well in the last few months, and I find you to be more amiable than facebook. I haven't been as amazing a friend to you as you are to me, but that's because it's difficult with you being a website and all. Even so, I find that I spend inordinate amounts of time with you. If you were a person, we'd probably get along quite well.
It's just, well, I need to spend more time doing things instead of looking at pretty pictures. It's not that you're without your uses. I'll still visit for artistic purposes and practical household advice, but even though you can steal hours of my day, you can make me smile. I promise to still visit.
Yours truly,
Kara
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Merry-Go-Round
I stand a few yards to the side, watching. The other third graders are going around and around and around. It's a merry-go-round, and I've never been on one. Maybe when I was younger, but if that is the case, I had been too young to remember. The spinning metal structure slows, and my friend jumps off. Eventually, she convinces me to get on. The world whirls around me as the chant pounds in my head, called out by many voices.
"Faster! Faster! We need another master!"
It slows again, and I move to get off, too slow. Before my weight is fully off, the merry-go-round jerks back to life, and I tumble to the ground. Small gravel rocks cling to me, pressed into my exposed skin, as I push myself up. My friend jumps off and hurries to me as the others continue to spin and spin and spin.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm good," I mutter, swiping at the yellow-orange dirt on my clothes. My knees are a little scraped, but they seem fine.
My friend takes me in with a quick glance, "Let's see if we can go to the nurse."
"I'm fine." I glance back down at my knees. There's no blood, even if they sting a little now. They're fine.
She gives me a look and takes my wrist, gently pulling me across the playground, away from the continually turning merry-go-round. Our teacher looks at me and says to go ahead inside. Confused, my knees receive a third look. There certainly is a fair amount of blood now.
Many years later...
Curled up in pajama pants, I trace the outline of a faint scar on my left knee, and I remember. I remember its story.
"Faster! Faster! We need another master!"
It slows again, and I move to get off, too slow. Before my weight is fully off, the merry-go-round jerks back to life, and I tumble to the ground. Small gravel rocks cling to me, pressed into my exposed skin, as I push myself up. My friend jumps off and hurries to me as the others continue to spin and spin and spin.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm good," I mutter, swiping at the yellow-orange dirt on my clothes. My knees are a little scraped, but they seem fine.
My friend takes me in with a quick glance, "Let's see if we can go to the nurse."
"I'm fine." I glance back down at my knees. There's no blood, even if they sting a little now. They're fine.
She gives me a look and takes my wrist, gently pulling me across the playground, away from the continually turning merry-go-round. Our teacher looks at me and says to go ahead inside. Confused, my knees receive a third look. There certainly is a fair amount of blood now.
Many years later...
Curled up in pajama pants, I trace the outline of a faint scar on my left knee, and I remember. I remember its story.
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Struggle
She screamed,
a sound
raw with terror
and confusion.
Two wolves,
to which her heart
was leashed,
were running
different ways.
One of anger.
The other, remorse.
One rabid.
The other tame.
The strain
on her heart,
the angry snarls,
the pained yelps...
Her scream
echoed
from the trees
and although both loved her
neither paused.
At last the pain,
too great to bear,
woke her.
a sound
raw with terror
and confusion.
Two wolves,
to which her heart
was leashed,
were running
different ways.
One of anger.
The other, remorse.
One rabid.
The other tame.
The strain
on her heart,
the angry snarls,
the pained yelps...
Her scream
echoed
from the trees
and although both loved her
neither paused.
At last the pain,
too great to bear,
woke her.
Monday, November 5, 2012
National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo)
So. Here it is. The month of novel writing. I've actually never participated. Well, I might have for a day, but I'm a bit attention deficit when it comes to writing. I set out to write a book and I end up getting distracted by characters newly born, ideas that wouldn't work in the world I'm writing in, old stories that are calling for revisions... That's why I tend to stick with short stories and poetry. This year I'm hitting it again. I'm going to try to write a book, again.
I started in fifth grade, but the story progressed too fast. There was very little character development, and let's face it, at fifth grade my spelling and grammar were awful, let alone my writing style. I had to shut it down. I buried The Last Gift Seer and have only revisited it to bring back happy memories, not to write or improve it. Sixth grade through eighth, I improved, but I kept starting over. I never reached chapter two. I said goodbye to my dragon story, Wingbeat.
I'll see how it goes this time around. It gives me a reason to procrastinate on a blog post I've been meaning to write about something (I won't spoil it for you, just in case I do finish it.), something to do instead of scanning my shelves for something to read that matches my mood, and frankly I'd rather do this than "No Shave November" (On that front, let's just conclude that my big brother, Ace, is excited for an excuse to attempt a beard.*).
I won't be alone. Another blogger, Sarah Elisabeth Newman, is participating in NaNoWriMo. She's actually why I decided to. Sarah's been working on her book for a while, and I admire that, especially considering my track record. The way I see it, if I keep in mind that she's working on it, it'll help me stay focused.
So, now that you've read this slightly boring post, I have a challenge for you.
Join us.
*Note: My brothers list grows, since they're all honorary. Ace is currently the youngest of my four main brothers.
I started in fifth grade, but the story progressed too fast. There was very little character development, and let's face it, at fifth grade my spelling and grammar were awful, let alone my writing style. I had to shut it down. I buried The Last Gift Seer and have only revisited it to bring back happy memories, not to write or improve it. Sixth grade through eighth, I improved, but I kept starting over. I never reached chapter two. I said goodbye to my dragon story, Wingbeat.
I'll see how it goes this time around. It gives me a reason to procrastinate on a blog post I've been meaning to write about something (I won't spoil it for you, just in case I do finish it.), something to do instead of scanning my shelves for something to read that matches my mood, and frankly I'd rather do this than "No Shave November" (On that front, let's just conclude that my big brother, Ace, is excited for an excuse to attempt a beard.*).
I won't be alone. Another blogger, Sarah Elisabeth Newman, is participating in NaNoWriMo. She's actually why I decided to. Sarah's been working on her book for a while, and I admire that, especially considering my track record. The way I see it, if I keep in mind that she's working on it, it'll help me stay focused.
So, now that you've read this slightly boring post, I have a challenge for you.
Join us.
*Note: My brothers list grows, since they're all honorary. Ace is currently the youngest of my four main brothers.
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