A Brief History of Katherine Day 02.

Objective: Your first love.



Really? The 2nd day and we already talk about love. I guess it makes sense though. You can tell a lot about someone by the people they choose to love.

My first love could very well be chocolate. Or the Snoopy stuffed animal I carried with me for about 7 years of my life. Or the boy who was French in my Kindergarten class; he brought me presents from France every Summer.

But those I suppose are just beating around the bush. It really depends on how you define love. To me love is not a term that can be thrown around and easily replaced with the words "like" or "infatuation". To me, love is real. But, there are several types of love.

That being said, yes, I have had a first love. If we are talking "crush-love" then that began in 5th grade when I moved into our current house and I met "70's Dude". I'm not kidding. My best friend and I called him that. That was our code name for him. We played together. We walked to and from school together. I pretended he was awkward and that I was not attracted to his shyness or his lack of things to say to me. He pretended that I had cooties when his friends were around. He made his little sister tell me he liked me. We jumped on the tramp and went to soccer tournaments with our families together. He was my best friend. I haven't talked to him much since about 7th or 8th grade. Jr. High happened and it was all weird and hasn't been the same since. But if he happened to talk to me again, we'd have a lot of catching up to do. I'm sure we could be the best of friends if he'd let me. But I was never good at reading his mind, and he was never good at explaining exactly what he wanted. But we were great together.


My first real love I guess you could say, the one that can be classified as a "real first love"...
Oh, it's a beautiful story.
We met at Lagoon, that silly amusement park. I was with my family, he was with his friend and two other girls. He kept staring at me, I noticed, but didn't pay much attention. He followed me...lost me...found me...followed again...watched me sit at a table...finally came over...then gave me his number...then told me we should get together later and "go on the Ferris wheel because that's more romantic." I was smitten, but I could tell he had experience. I played his little game. We went on the Ferris wheel at night with my cousin on board (because I was afraid to go alone) and he was fine with it. He and I chatted...he more than I because for some reason, I just didn't have much to say. He was nervous and filled the silence with his easy going conversation. After we got off he asked, "Would it be completely inappropriate if I gave you a hug?" I smiled and said, "Of course not." and proceeded to hug him. It's been a roller coaster of ups and downs since then. But for him, I truly cared. For him, I sacrificed a lot. For him, I gave away my whole heart, something I was taught never to do. We made CD's, playlists, endless amounts of memories, poems, songs, drawings, bracelets, wrote letters to each other, the whole enchilada. Ah love...

Love is confusing, but worth the time. Love is essential for human beings to thrive and grow and just live. We all want to be loved. Love can be painful of course, but that is one of the things that makes it that much more desirable. A broken heart means you have tried for something.

Right now though, I love my footie pajamas.

Much Love & Spontaneity,

Katherine

A Brief History of Katherine Day 01.

Objective: Introduce yourself with pictures and words.


Figure 1.



Figure 2.



Figure 3.





I have this passion for life and hunger (see Figure 1.) and it can only be fed by laughter, travel, sunny skies, spontaneity, passion, stars, music, writing, and creativity. I enjoy life. I consider it one of the most precious gifts a person can receive. And I was lucky enough to get the life that I live everyday.

I am a genuinely happy person. (see Figure 2.) I love to laugh and to smile and do things that provoke the previous actions.

Things That Make Me Smile

-Writing (poems, stories, essays, articles, letters, ect.)
-Curling up with a good book
-Hot Chocolate
-Sunshine
-Roller Coasters
-Cartwheels
-Smiles
-People in general (People watching specifically)
-Music
-Hope
-Sunflowers

I am half-Hmong. (see Figure 3.) I have a culture and a heritage and I am proud of it. I can speak the language fluently and am trying to learn to read and write it. My mother is from Laos and has brought with her many stories and lessons that she has taught me. I am so grateful that I was lucky enough to grow up in a multicultural home and be bilingual. Some people have no idea what they have, and try to become someone else. I am happy to be even half-Hmong. My culture is a huge part of who I am, and it is truly a beautiful thing.


Day 01 down, 29 to go. :)


Much Love & Spontaneity,

Katherine

Everyone Else Knows Something You Don't

Do you ever feel like everyone else in the world knows something you don't? Like there was some giant conference that told the world everything that they needed to know, and you missed it.

Accept no other definition of your life,

accept only your own.

That's what my fortune cookie said last night. It was quite unexpected, as most fortune cookies are. I wonder how I define my life. I wonder how others define my life. I'd like to think that my life is peachy. I'd like to think that my life brings happiness to others. I'd like to think that my life is worth living. Although my life does not come without it's share of hardships, it is definitely amazing.

However, I am kind of mad at life right now because I have a giant semester final in Pre-Calculus tomorrow and I am afraid. I missed my only chance to get help yesterday thanks to the loverly stomach flu, and now, I am mad at the flu and my homework and my severe lack of understanding of this stupid subject. Uggghh!

Will someone please tell me when I am going to use this awful, torturous and completely unessential Math for anything more than getting a good grade??! Please??!!

I guess instead of complaining about all this I should probably go study, yes?
Alright fine. I'll be good and responsible.
Thank you guilty conscience.

Much Love & Spontaneity,

Katherine

You Light the Skies Up Above Me

I have this secret obsession.



I adore the stars.

I will probably always adore the stars. Anything with the sky, captivates me. I want to fly, I want to get up there, I want to be with the stars. My brother has this telescope that no one uses. I do. I like to look at the stars through my upstairs window....


I love the mystery. The beauty of a star takes my breath away. I want to catch one. I realize catching a massive ball of burning hot gas is not very easily done, but I wish that I could catch one in a jar. Or get one named for me. I love watching shooting stars fall. I saw my first shooting star at Girl's Camp 2 years ago. I wished so hard and watched the sky and it was beautiful. I could lie under the stars at night and watch them forever, just twinkling back at me.

Last year we had to write something that ended with "My House Has Stars."
Here is mine:

My house was built with careful deliberateness, like the traditions of my people. Wood tied together with slivers of bamboo, and topped with a thatched roof. Now, children run barefoot from house to house. Chickens peck at feed cast down, and hungry stray dogs roam the dusty, worn paths for scraps. My mother and father leave each morning with my older brothers and sisters to work in the fields of rice. They tell me to watch my youngest sister. I follow the toddling girl around as I gather food for dinner. My responsibility.

When the long, hot day is over, I am sent out to fetch water from the village well. The path to the well dips and curves through the jungle. The hand made bucket I carry is heavy and the journey long. But I am strong. Night falls as I make my way back home. My mother, a hard working woman, calls to me from the door-less frame of our house, “Me ntxhais, los hauv tsev,” she says, “Little Girl, come inside.” Before we can have dinner, my mother prepares to cook by building a small fire. The chicken, a delicacy to our people, is cooked in one of the twelve ways a good mother knows how to make. I help my dad pound our rice with the hand-made grinder. “Dee-duh, Dee-duh,” the grinder moans as it pounds our rice.

When dinner is finished, I fulfill my duties as a daughter and help clean up. I step outside to offer the stray dogs the stripped bones of the chicken. There is a chill in the air. A sense of fear hanging heavy, like an everlasting fog. Sparks fly into the sky like prayers unto heaven. Sparks thrust from the guns of the Vietcong soldiers. I look up. Gun shots sound, echoing in the distance. Tears fall for my war-torn country. The sky winks and tells of hope. I close my eyes, and wish for peace.

My house has stars.

Everyone lives and breathes and sleeps under a blanket of stars. I'm sure that the stars see, even if some of us can't, that people are universally the same, no matter where you are. I see the stars, and they see me. They make me happy.

If I weren't so afraid of being vacuum-packed into a rocket, I would love to be an astronaut.

I will probably marry the man who buys me a star.


Much Love & Spontaneity,

Katherine

Bursting at the Seams

I have a lot to say today. I will write everything in a section, so if you don't like the first line of the section, feel free to skip ahead. There are words inside of me that are threatening to come out. Emotions that I can no longer suppress. Ready or not, here they come.

Song of the Day: Your Heart is an Empty Room by Death Cab for Cutie. I don't know why, but in every step I took today, I heard that song. Probably because I had it on repeat on my ipod, but also because no matter where I was, or what I was doing, that song fit my mood. Step, step, click, click, I walked down the halls of my school and that song weaved in and out of my every motion. If my life were a movie, here are a couple of songs that would make the soundtrack, right now:

Your Heart is an Empty Room-Death Cab

Crooked Teeth-Death Cab

What Sarah Said-Death Cab

Jar of Hearts-Christina Perri

Gravity-Sara Bareilles

Still Hurting-The Last Five Years

Mr. Brightside-The Killers

Yellow-The Vitamin String Quartet

I suppose I should explain my choices, but I think they speak for themselves. Except Mr. Brightside. I just love that song no matter what

my mood.

I almost fell to my death today in the school parking lot.

I was walking on the ice that covers the cold, hard, insensitive ground so unevenly, and I was in mid-sentence and sucking on a cough drop when my right foot shot out unexpectedly

and I let out a shriek while simultaneously almost choking on the stupid cough drop keeping me alive at the moment. My friend Angelica and I burst into fits of laughter as I grabbed hold of her elbow in order to keep my balance. She and I could not stop laughing as it were, because falling and tripping and otherwise having a constant battle with gravity, has always been my weakness.

Ah Italy. I have this deep yearning in my heart to visit or possibly live there someday.
Angelica and I had a conversation about it in class today. Something about Italy just calls to me. And I want it. I want the language, the food, the atmosphere, the architecture, the villas, the everything! Gelatos! I want gelatos! Anyway, our teacher kept saying the word Italy in our lesson today, and even just hearing the word Italy being spoken by another human being sent a flutter of butterflies rioting in my stomach. I love that place. How could you not love that place? I mean look at it....

Backtracking a little, I wanted to touch on the subject of ice again.
I had to cross my Aunt's notoriously steep driveway today in order to retrieve my little cousin's "ba-ba" (her blanket) and I kept slipping on the stupid ice that was so intent on sending me to my demise this very day. I found though, that stepping on the small parts of solid ground peeking up through the satanic ice, helped stabilize me enough to make it up the driveway.

It's a lot like life. There are points where you slip and slide and try and try to shove your way up the stupid hill that is life, and all that helps you along the way, are the very small, but very real patches between the stupid.

I then thought about how you can compare just about anything to life. Like how you can compare checking the mail to life: you never know who or what is going to come, and whether they bring good or bad. Or brushing your hair: there are many tangles and snarls on the way, but with hard work and a lot of detangler, things will be alright. (Or maybe that just occurs with my hair.) Or perhaps writing a book report: waiting until the last minute, will never get you anywhere.

How come no one ever says what they mean?
How come our most honest and heartfelt thoughts, our most human thoughts, are regarded as rude and offensive? Like if you are asked your opinion, why not just say, "No, I don't like that." Or if you honestly feel for someone, tell them. So many wasted moments in our lives! No one says what they actually want to say. We all wait for someone to say it for us. Then if someone actually does, we think, hey, that was kind of rude. I'm glad it wasn't me. Now, this is actually kind of hypocritical of me to say because I am the kind of person who wouldn't tell the truth if I knew it would hurt the person. But I'm all for the confessing the love or telling someone to change their life. Or offering a breath mint.

What could you do, if you were not afraid?

What could I do everyday if I was not afraid? What if I wasn't so scared of being judged? Rejected? What if I wasn't so scared of being caught? What if I just lived my life and made myself happy and just did things? What could you do everyday if you were not afraid? Who would you say things to? What would you say? What would you accomplish? How many more things could you accomplish if you stopped living life in fear of someone or something or yourself?

I have a lot on my mind. I want to write. I want to write like 50 poems and express the nostalgia I feel. I want to let it all loose. I don't know how right now. Everything is all bottled up and threatening to explode.

Expect poetry soon.

Much Love & Spontaneity,

Katherine

Happy Birthday Brother o' Mine!

Today is my brother's 15th birthday! I hope he has the best day ever! I swear I just turned 15 and now, here we are, years later, and my brother does the same. Ahh! It's crazy how time flies!
Well, I must go make a birthday sign for him! I'll write more later!

Much Love & Spontaneity,

Katherine

Happy New Year

I am practically professional at inflicting self torture.

What a positive statement for the New Year right? I know. But it is the truth. I am amazing at making my heart ache, hurting myself, going back and forth into situations that I know will bring me nothing but sadness, yet I do it anyway. If there were Olympics for being and idiot, I'd take gold. I suppose that is how some of us work though. Some people (the smart ones) are able to learn from their first mistakes, and happily move on. Others, (me) make the exact same mistake and fall in the the exact same situation, and never learn until the heartbreak is unbearable and then they explode in an emotional tsunami of tears and exhaustion from all the confusion.

On a much happier note, my family went bowling last night for New Year's Eve. Somehow we got the V.I.P. bowling alley...Yes, apparently there is a V.I.P. place for those V.I.P. bowlers.

Want to know what makes a V.I.P. bowling alley so special?


Yes. We watched The Incredibles while we bowled. And later on, we watched Despicable Me. It was fun. My first game I bowled a 106 which NEVER happens. Then I bowled an 87 I think. Haha. I'm obviously not the best bowler. Here are a couple more pics of my family. My little cousins and such.










Have a wonderfully amazing New Year's Day everyone. Smile.

Much Love & Spontaneity,

Katherine