One month in to 2011, what question(s) are you living? Are there any prompts from Reverb10 that are still resonating in you life? Are you living new questions?
I took some much needed time this morning to read my Reverb10 posts-- I needed some time to refocus and recenter myself and I think, even though I didn't recognize it at the time, I needed to read those posts too. The Reverb prompts are so great at challenging me to look at the good and the bad in myself, my experiences, my year and put it all in words. Own my accomplishments, and failures too.
From all 31 posts in December, I discovered the following themes are still resonating with me and inspiring some of the things I am doing in 2011:
1. Continue to GROW even when it is painful.
2. I learn more about myself and my limits (or lack of) with every mile I RUN.
3. STOP WAITING.
4. CREATE whenever possible. Create LAUGHTER always.
5. Be CONFIDENT in my beauty, inside and out.
6. CELEBRATE the little things, the lucky things, and the things that happen by chance.
7. In 24 years I have cultivated some of the most amazing RELATIONSHIPS. Hang tight to those.
8. It's not always easy, but there's NO GIVING UP.
9. The simplest JOYS are in front of me all the time. There is no need to search.
10. CHANGE is inevitable. I can resist it or I can look forward to the way it refreshes my life and the way I experience it. One of these options is far more rewarding than the other.
For me it is easy to embrace and live 2, 4, and 6. 1, 9, and 10 come fairly naturally. The beauty of 7 is that when I slip from it a bit, the others in those relationships pick me up. That's how those relationships became amazing. 3, 5, and 8 require a little more practice, a few more reminders, but they too can be accomplished. Overall, a very manageable and inspiring theme list.
Life is good.
Showing posts with label Reverb10. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Reverb10. Show all posts
Saturday, February 12, 2011
I Don't Save the Animals (or Grocery Shop) but I Do Watch Professional Sports
I wish I could give you some sexy reason for why I have been so terribly MIA from blogging in the last 2 weeks.
Was I saving baby pandas in the bamboo forests of China? No, I was not.
Was I huddled in a vividly colored tent at a base camp on my way to the peak of Mt. Everest? No, I was not.
Was I lost a sea for days, drifting under a harsh sun on a slowly deflating life raft after a diving trip gone wrong? No, I was not.
Was I here, in Minneapolis, having several local adventures (of a less dangerous variety)? Why, yes I was.
Did I enjoy a beautifully crafted fancy cocktail at Prohibition, the bar atop the historic Foshay Tower? Yes I did.
Did I know Minnesota still had a professional basketball team? No, not really... but did I have a wonderful time watching them lose (surprise surprise)? Yes I did.
Did I start taking an art class with my mom and sister that has me a little psyched out (it's clay-3D. I am a 2D kid, generally) but excited to have a concrete time set to release the creativity each week? Yes I did.
Did I finally go to the Xcel Energy Center to see the Minnesota Wild hockey team play in the great State of Hockey? Yes I did. Did I have an awesome time? Most certainly.
Have I actually been sticking to my marathon training schedule? Yes I have. And I think I might have even had a bit of a breakthrough in the last week between a 5 mile long run last Sunday and a pair of short 3s this week. I am certainly on track to personal best some 5Ks this spring, if nothing else. Less than 4 months to the Buffalo Triathlon-- time to start working in some more swim time.
Have I been spending a fair amount of my spare time with a young man who shares my love for coffee (let us gloss over his preference for Starbucks...), has good taste in beer, makes interesting conversation, looks fantastic in a suit, and takes me to a hockey game even though he may rather be on the baselines at Target Field? Yes I have. Gladly.
Have I gone grocery shopping since I last felt I was "out of food?" No. So meals lately have consisted of spaghetti or mac'n'cheese, peanut butter sandwiches, and coffee. Milk has only been gone for 2 days, but apples for at least 4. This is most distressing and somewhere between the treadmill miles, the professional sporting events, and drinks with fruit hanging off the edge of the cup, I will buy another 10 pounds of apples and restore peace to the refrigerator. And maybe some cheese.
ALSO! In a completely unrelated topic, Reverb10 is back as Reverb11 and they are posting monthly prompts starting in February. The current prompt is sitting unanswered in my inbox right now, but expect an update in that fashion shortly.
Was I saving baby pandas in the bamboo forests of China? No, I was not.
Was I huddled in a vividly colored tent at a base camp on my way to the peak of Mt. Everest? No, I was not.
Was I lost a sea for days, drifting under a harsh sun on a slowly deflating life raft after a diving trip gone wrong? No, I was not.
Was I here, in Minneapolis, having several local adventures (of a less dangerous variety)? Why, yes I was.
Did I enjoy a beautifully crafted fancy cocktail at Prohibition, the bar atop the historic Foshay Tower? Yes I did.
Did I know Minnesota still had a professional basketball team? No, not really... but did I have a wonderful time watching them lose (surprise surprise)? Yes I did.
Did I start taking an art class with my mom and sister that has me a little psyched out (it's clay-3D. I am a 2D kid, generally) but excited to have a concrete time set to release the creativity each week? Yes I did.
Did I finally go to the Xcel Energy Center to see the Minnesota Wild hockey team play in the great State of Hockey? Yes I did. Did I have an awesome time? Most certainly.
Have I actually been sticking to my marathon training schedule? Yes I have. And I think I might have even had a bit of a breakthrough in the last week between a 5 mile long run last Sunday and a pair of short 3s this week. I am certainly on track to personal best some 5Ks this spring, if nothing else. Less than 4 months to the Buffalo Triathlon-- time to start working in some more swim time.
Have I been spending a fair amount of my spare time with a young man who shares my love for coffee (let us gloss over his preference for Starbucks...), has good taste in beer, makes interesting conversation, looks fantastic in a suit, and takes me to a hockey game even though he may rather be on the baselines at Target Field? Yes I have. Gladly.
Have I gone grocery shopping since I last felt I was "out of food?" No. So meals lately have consisted of spaghetti or mac'n'cheese, peanut butter sandwiches, and coffee. Milk has only been gone for 2 days, but apples for at least 4. This is most distressing and somewhere between the treadmill miles, the professional sporting events, and drinks with fruit hanging off the edge of the cup, I will buy another 10 pounds of apples and restore peace to the refrigerator. And maybe some cheese.
ALSO! In a completely unrelated topic, Reverb10 is back as Reverb11 and they are posting monthly prompts starting in February. The current prompt is sitting unanswered in my inbox right now, but expect an update in that fashion shortly.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Reverb 10.31: Core Story
December 31-- Core story. What central story is at the core of you, and how do you share it with the world?
Genetics, schmenetics. My blood type was given to me specifically for the way happiness courses through me daily.
B Positive.
And that, I think, is my core story. I looked back through all the reverb prompts, figuring those were a pretty good reflection on the year I have had. If not the events, at least the way the year makes me feel, having survived all 364.5 days of it so far. And despite the honesty about a rough go here and there, the common themes included: a newfound safety in reliance on friends, a continued reliance on perspective about my various situations (living in your sister's basement is better than not having anywhere to live, having a temporary job in your field trumps going back to my barista days), and the huge role that humor and laughter play in my life.
Appreciating life doesn't mean looking at how things could be worse. It means feeling positively about how things are. Just because they are.
Genetics, schmenetics. My blood type was given to me specifically for the way happiness courses through me daily.
B Positive.
And that, I think, is my core story. I looked back through all the reverb prompts, figuring those were a pretty good reflection on the year I have had. If not the events, at least the way the year makes me feel, having survived all 364.5 days of it so far. And despite the honesty about a rough go here and there, the common themes included: a newfound safety in reliance on friends, a continued reliance on perspective about my various situations (living in your sister's basement is better than not having anywhere to live, having a temporary job in your field trumps going back to my barista days), and the huge role that humor and laughter play in my life.
Appreciating life doesn't mean looking at how things could be worse. It means feeling positively about how things are. Just because they are.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Reverb 10.30: Gift
December 30-- Gift. This month gifts and give-giving can feel inescapable. What's the most memorable gift, tangible or emotional, you received this year?
This year, I got more than what I wanted. I got exactly what I needed.
The gift of friendship when being my friend isn't easy.
When I am angry. When I am stressed. When I am overexcited. When I am too chatty. When I am making decisions that may later leave my friends picking up the pieces. When I am idealistic. When I am running late.
Friendship stuck in there.
A lot of people say that's what friendship means-- being there even when people aren't at their best and most enjoyable. And while that might be true, I know I am awfully lucky.
Reverb 10.29: Defining Moment.
December 29-- Defining moment. Describe a defining moment or series of events that has affected your life this year.
I spent agonizing afternoons looking for the dress that simply stated "I am young and fresh (and a little stylish, to boot!) but I am also ready to face this world as a new professional who acts with maturity and resolve." And I found the dress: a beautifully structured cotton dress with modest neckline, gorgeous bold watercolor floral print, a cute bright yellow belt, and pockets. All dresses should have pockets.
And for all that searching, the little gem sat on a hanger in my room for 6 weeks because I vowed I would not even consider wearing it until the event for which it was purchased.
May 17, 2010 came, and I slid the dress over my recently tanned shoulders and a body that had too long been away from the gym or trails. And then immediately slid a too-big one-size-fits-most black robe right over that beautiful dress, put my round head in a square hat adorned with a salmon pink tassel that clashed with the intense hues so carefully chosen weeks ago. I covered feet that had figuratively and literally run miles and miles over the last two years with a fabulous pair of brown kitten heels and in the blink of an eye, I had taken no more than 20 steps across a dramatically lit stage in Northrup Auditorium at the University of Minnesota, accepted a scroll and alumni gift, and quickly found my seat amongst dozens of other 30 second graduates of the University of Minnesota School of Public Health.
For years I had been joking that I was going to put the MPH in 'triumph' and, in fact, you readers have heard the joke many many times (sorry). But walking across that stage defined what this year has been all about: the passage from one stage of life to the next.
And looking fabulous doing it.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Reverb 10.28: Achieve.
December 28-- Achieve. What's the thing you most want to achieve next year? How do you imagine you'll feel when you get it? Free? Happy? Complete? Blissful?
Achievement of 2011: Own a toaster.
Achievement of 2011: Own a toaster.
Because owning a toaster means I have moved into my first "own place." Moving in to my own place means I had the financial means to do such a thing. Having the financial means is indicative of one of two things: I have earned and maintained gainful employment and/or have saved and spent savvy enough to afford to live on my own. Gainful employment and saving/spending wisely means I have crossed an important threshold in the journey towards adulthood and greater independence. And this is what 24 year old, bright, well-educated, fabulous young women are supposed to do.
And then I am making Jesus toast. Lots and lots and lots of Jesus toast.
Reverb 10.27: Ordinary Joy.
December 27-- Ordinary Joy. Our most profound joy is most often experienced during ordinary moments. What was one of your most joyful ordinary moments this year?
The frenzied typing of a term paper would slow and eventually stop. The last dishes from the dinner meal would be dried and put away. The TV would fall silent after playing the preview for next week's episode of [fill in the guiltiest pleasure reality TV show]. And from all corners of a charming second floor Uptown apartment, my roommates and I (and often Roommate 2.0- one of the boyfriends) would gather around the most sacred space our combine student loans could afford: the kitchen counter. Every night, between 8 and 10 pm (or whenever the last roommate navigated the tiny front stairwell after a long day of class), the three/four of us would sit on the $10 kitchen stools in the bluest of blue kitchens and have our "kitchen counter pow wow."
At the time, they didn't seem anything special. They weren't even really a scheduled event. But somehow, a block of time-- at least 30 minutes-- found its way between class schedules, long nights at work, piles of homework, and social engagements. And this time, sometimes stretching hours and going way past bedtime on a school night, is the time I got to know my roommates best. Sometimes we just talked about our day: how great/awful our classes were, the weirdos on the bus, a planned 8 mile run that turned into 3 miles and a latte instead. Sometimes we talked about more serious things: heartbreak, how we imagined our future lives, things that scared us, things we were excited about. Sometimes we watched YouTube videos so many times we could quote them for months following. One time we broke into "MmBop" by Hanson. Always we appreciated knowing that someone was checking in to make sure we were each okay, all separated from our families by the drive to earn post-grad degrees. Always we appreciated the different views each of us brought to the kitchen counter.
Each night I understood these women better than the night before, each night our friendship became stronger, each night we laughed, and each night we made an unspoken commitment that no matter how crazy our lives got, there was always time to say "Hey, I am thinking about you and I hope you had a good day."
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Reverb 10.26: Soul Food.
December 26-- Soul food. What did you eat this year that you will never forget? What went in to your mouth and touched your soul?
Now, I am positive that the following answer was not at all what this author was hoping to inspire out of all the Reverb-ers out there. But this is something I will certainly not forget for a very long time.
---
November 11 is Veteran's Day and as a government employee, I have to take the day off whether I like it or not. This year it was on a Thursday, awkwardly interrupting my week and forcing me to try to be productive on the lonely Friday workday that would follow.
So, in Mugwump fashion, I griped about having to take the day off. I waxed on quite dramatically about how I would MUCH rather take the Friday off instead, and since I am not a veteran, should I really get a day off at all?
By the afternoon of the preceding Wednesday, I had warmed to the idea of a whole day off from work (guilt free!) and even made a few plans so I didn't spend my day off on the couch eating tortilla chips.
But all of that changed with the most fateful and unforgettable lunch of 2010: pre-packaged sushi. At 2 AM on November 11, I awoke with a mild crampy stomach and stretched myself and tried to go back to sleep. 10 minutes later, the pain was unbearable and had me balled into the fetal position. Shortly after, I found myself crying into the toilet bowl, vomiting the entire contents of my stomach. Like clockwork through the morning, I would wake up on the hour and vomit the meager contents of my stomach, until about 7 AM when I simply dry heaved until I could no longer take it. I tried to drink water to stay hydrated, but to no avail. It was simply expelled with the next hourly installment of the Great Gastrointestinal Cleanse of 2010. And that continued for most of my vacation day, which I ended up spending on the couch, now totally exhausted, unable to eat or drink, too weak to move, and most distressing: hungry.
I wasted my whole day of forced vacation, had to take the following Friday off from work as well, and felt generally like a greasy pile of sludge (and HUNGRY) through the entire weekend.
I haven't gone in to every detail about those four days, particularly the heaving of Day 1, because I'd be shocked if you would stay and read through all of that. It's not very "holiday spirit" of me either, particularly for those of you who may have overindulged on the Christmas cookies and baked hams and are feeling a little gut-busty yourselves. But let me tell you, while I think the author was looking for me to share a story of some exotic food discovery or to confess about the day I fell in love with Chobani greek yogurt, this sushi really touched my soul this year.
All 28 intestinal feet of my soul.
Now, I am positive that the following answer was not at all what this author was hoping to inspire out of all the Reverb-ers out there. But this is something I will certainly not forget for a very long time.
---
November 11 is Veteran's Day and as a government employee, I have to take the day off whether I like it or not. This year it was on a Thursday, awkwardly interrupting my week and forcing me to try to be productive on the lonely Friday workday that would follow.
So, in Mugwump fashion, I griped about having to take the day off. I waxed on quite dramatically about how I would MUCH rather take the Friday off instead, and since I am not a veteran, should I really get a day off at all?
By the afternoon of the preceding Wednesday, I had warmed to the idea of a whole day off from work (guilt free!) and even made a few plans so I didn't spend my day off on the couch eating tortilla chips.
But all of that changed with the most fateful and unforgettable lunch of 2010: pre-packaged sushi. At 2 AM on November 11, I awoke with a mild crampy stomach and stretched myself and tried to go back to sleep. 10 minutes later, the pain was unbearable and had me balled into the fetal position. Shortly after, I found myself crying into the toilet bowl, vomiting the entire contents of my stomach. Like clockwork through the morning, I would wake up on the hour and vomit the meager contents of my stomach, until about 7 AM when I simply dry heaved until I could no longer take it. I tried to drink water to stay hydrated, but to no avail. It was simply expelled with the next hourly installment of the Great Gastrointestinal Cleanse of 2010. And that continued for most of my vacation day, which I ended up spending on the couch, now totally exhausted, unable to eat or drink, too weak to move, and most distressing: hungry.
I wasted my whole day of forced vacation, had to take the following Friday off from work as well, and felt generally like a greasy pile of sludge (and HUNGRY) through the entire weekend.
I haven't gone in to every detail about those four days, particularly the heaving of Day 1, because I'd be shocked if you would stay and read through all of that. It's not very "holiday spirit" of me either, particularly for those of you who may have overindulged on the Christmas cookies and baked hams and are feeling a little gut-busty yourselves. But let me tell you, while I think the author was looking for me to share a story of some exotic food discovery or to confess about the day I fell in love with Chobani greek yogurt, this sushi really touched my soul this year.
All 28 intestinal feet of my soul.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Reverb 10.25: Photo.
December 25-- Photo- a present to yourself. Sift through all of the photos of you from the past year. Choose the one that best captures you; either who you are, or who you strive to be. Find the shot of you that is worth a thousand words. Share the image, who shot it, where, and what it best reveals about you.
June 6, 2010. Buffalo, Minnesota. Buffalo Triathlon, sprint distance.
What does this photo reveal about me, besides that I am a bit of a Tubby Trotter?
Photo credit: Dad
June 6, 2010. Buffalo, Minnesota. Buffalo Triathlon, sprint distance.
What does this photo reveal about me, besides that I am a bit of a Tubby Trotter?
- I design good shoes. Despite their minor role in the photo, check out those babies! Fantastic.
- "Happy" comes pretty easily.
- I see a good photo op coming and I take it!
- Despite being relatively out of shape and suffering a minor, but tears-inducing, bike crash earlier on the course, I didn't quit. I am not a quitter (and the medal was shiny and you only get one if you cross the finish line on your own power).
- I don't look good in bike shorts. At all.
- I imagine I will continue to spend all kinds of money so I can keep running in circles at events like these. The feeling of being this close to the finish line and then crossing it never really gets old.
Merry Christmas, everyone! XOXO
Reverb 10.24: Everything's OK.
December 24-- Everything's OK. What's the best moment that could serve as proof that everything is going to be alright? And how will you incorporate that discovery into the year ahead?
Knowing everything is going to be okay happens as soon as you let go of searching for that 'one moment.' I don't need a defining moment to tell me I am doing okay. I am not asking for permission to feel like life is turning out just fine. That which did not kill me may or may not have made me stronger. The point is, it didn't kill me. So, everything must be okay.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Reverb 10.23: New Name.
December 23-- New name. Let's meet again, for the first time. If you could introduce yourself to strangers by another name for just one day, what would it be and why?
What do you mean, I can't call myself Princess Perfect Pants with Hair of Golden Waves and Charming Personality?
Well... Katie, then.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Reverb 10.22: Travel.
December 22--Travel. How did you travel in 2010? How and/or where would you like to travel next year?
Plane (to DC for a fantastic Labor Day Weekend). Train (to work every day). Automobile (to Duluth and Grand Marais for camping, for coffee with good friends, to go my parents' for an opportunity to refresh myself). Bipedal (across the graduation stage, around the lakes, on the never-ending treadmill).
Plane (to DC for a fantastic Labor Day Weekend). Train (to work every day). Automobile (to Duluth and Grand Marais for camping, for coffee with good friends, to go my parents' for an opportunity to refresh myself). Bipedal (across the graduation stage, around the lakes, on the never-ending treadmill).
How would I like to travel next year? Extravagantly. How will I travel? Plane, train, automobile, and bipedal I imagine. And I have no idea where I am going. Boy, isn't that an understatement...
Reverb 10.21 (Bonus Edition): Future Self.
This is my letter to my younger self, as per the bonus question to yesterday's Reverb. It made me realize, in many ways, I am glad I didn't know then what I know now.
I started to write to my former self (maybe not former, but younger), and found it is hard to write a letter to your teenaged-self without crushing all of her hopes and dreams. It's not like I can give her all the factual knowledge I have-- imagine such a letter: "Dear 14 year old self, you are currently the most awkward being on the planet. This will get better, but not much." And how do you begin to explain things like Facebook, Twitter, blogging, and smartphones. Isn't there an app for writing to your teenaged self?!
And on a more serious note, ten years ago 14-year-old Katie had not experienced an attack on her own country, had not watched a hurricane devastate a huge part of her country's history and culture, had not yet felt the political and religious ripples of the death of a pope and subsequent election of a new pope. She had not yet experienced the relaxed beach culture of Australia, strolled the tree-lined and history-ladened boulevards of Paris, or walked along a ditch in Guatemala tangibly feeling poverty she didn't even know existed. But I can't tell her these things.
I can't tell her that the best friend she's about to meet is going to be at her grad school graduation ten years later, still one of the biggest champions on Team Katie. She needs to work hard (and send a hundred emails) to make that friendship work. I can't tell her about falling in love. And then out of it. And then back in again. And I can't describe to her the feelings of being a part of the fabulous love stories as friends quietly tell you "(S)he's the one," take their engagement photos, and get married. I can't tell her how honored she'll be to squeeze herself into some, um... interesting bridesmaids dresses. These are all the bonus rewards of being a good friend but I don't want her to work hard to be a good friend just for a closet full of interesting dresses.
I can't tell her about all the times she's about to get hurt, physically and emotionally. She'll be too afraid to try anything new. And if 14 year-old Katie is anything like current Katie, she is especially worried about things that might hurt her face. And her pride. I don't want to rob her of the anticipation bottled up in a single envelope by telling her that she gets in to almost every grad school she applies for admission. I don't want to ruin the magic of a first date by telling her "This one doesn't work out. Or this one. Or this one. Nope, not that one either." I can't tell her everything is going to be fine, because even if for only a fleeting moment, sometimes things are not.
So what can I tell my 14 year-old self for the years ahead?
Dear Katie,
This life is fabulous. And you are fabulous in it. Be surprised, be scared, be happy, and be angry. Have days where you don't want to get out of bed and have days where you greet every living thing on the street. Send mail. Cry in front of other people and be forgiving and understanding when they cry in front of you. Be a good friend, always. If you can do these things, you will be truly living, regardless of the events happening around you. Life can happen to you, or you can participate in it. Unlike many of the challenges you will face, there is a right answer: participate. And participate fully.
This life is fabulous. And you are fabulous in it.
XOXO
Katie
I started to write to my former self (maybe not former, but younger), and found it is hard to write a letter to your teenaged-self without crushing all of her hopes and dreams. It's not like I can give her all the factual knowledge I have-- imagine such a letter: "Dear 14 year old self, you are currently the most awkward being on the planet. This will get better, but not much." And how do you begin to explain things like Facebook, Twitter, blogging, and smartphones. Isn't there an app for writing to your teenaged self?!
And on a more serious note, ten years ago 14-year-old Katie had not experienced an attack on her own country, had not watched a hurricane devastate a huge part of her country's history and culture, had not yet felt the political and religious ripples of the death of a pope and subsequent election of a new pope. She had not yet experienced the relaxed beach culture of Australia, strolled the tree-lined and history-ladened boulevards of Paris, or walked along a ditch in Guatemala tangibly feeling poverty she didn't even know existed. But I can't tell her these things.
I can't tell her that the best friend she's about to meet is going to be at her grad school graduation ten years later, still one of the biggest champions on Team Katie. She needs to work hard (and send a hundred emails) to make that friendship work. I can't tell her about falling in love. And then out of it. And then back in again. And I can't describe to her the feelings of being a part of the fabulous love stories as friends quietly tell you "(S)he's the one," take their engagement photos, and get married. I can't tell her how honored she'll be to squeeze herself into some, um... interesting bridesmaids dresses. These are all the bonus rewards of being a good friend but I don't want her to work hard to be a good friend just for a closet full of interesting dresses.
I can't tell her about all the times she's about to get hurt, physically and emotionally. She'll be too afraid to try anything new. And if 14 year-old Katie is anything like current Katie, she is especially worried about things that might hurt her face. And her pride. I don't want to rob her of the anticipation bottled up in a single envelope by telling her that she gets in to almost every grad school she applies for admission. I don't want to ruin the magic of a first date by telling her "This one doesn't work out. Or this one. Or this one. Nope, not that one either." I can't tell her everything is going to be fine, because even if for only a fleeting moment, sometimes things are not.
So what can I tell my 14 year-old self for the years ahead?
Dear Katie,
This life is fabulous. And you are fabulous in it. Be surprised, be scared, be happy, and be angry. Have days where you don't want to get out of bed and have days where you greet every living thing on the street. Send mail. Cry in front of other people and be forgiving and understanding when they cry in front of you. Be a good friend, always. If you can do these things, you will be truly living, regardless of the events happening around you. Life can happen to you, or you can participate in it. Unlike many of the challenges you will face, there is a right answer: participate. And participate fully.
This life is fabulous. And you are fabulous in it.
XOXO
Katie
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Reverb 10.21: Future Self.
December 21-- Future Self. Imagine yourself five years from now. What advice would you give your current self for the year ahead? (Bonus: Write a note to yourself 10 years ago. What would you tell your younger self?)
Dear Katie,
You have worked hard to get to where you are. Probably harder in the last few years than ever before, as new tasks and challenges presented themselves quite boldly and the answers didn't always come to you as naturally and easily as they once had. But that's okay because these challenges have been so good for you. They have provided you with a new perspective on what (and who) really matter. They have given you a new patience and grace with people while also reminding you that life is simply too wonderful to waste holding grudges and being angry.
While I refuse to tell you (me?) that "your real life is about to start" because everything up until this point has really been real life, I will tell you that you are balancing on the cusp of big things. Or, in triathlon terms, you are at the transition between the swim and the bike. You have survived a tough part, but there are still big hills to climb and rocky roads. There might even be a flat tire, but you can fix it. Above all, there are always other cyclists. You can always ask for help and no one who loves you is going to be disappointed that you didn't have the right answer or all of the resources. You are still young; forgive yourself the way others forgive you.
Continue working hard and do not get discouraged. Lots of things will change: your job, where you live, who you hang out with, your favorite TV show, the song that makes you drum the steering wheel. There are, however, some things about you that are just truth. Whether you like it or not. You are blunt and honest and that will please some and offend many. You are uninhibited with your stories and bring an inextinguishable energy to discussion. You are a good friend and in return you have earned the respect and love of many people who need you in much the same way that you need them. Hold tight to these truths, and do not put energy into changing them. They are the fibers of Katie, just as much as your Great-grandpa Lyle's big blue eyes, your mother's sensitivity to animals, your father's love for belly laughs, and that crazy head of messy curls that is uniquely you.
Hang in there kid.
XOXO
(Future) Katie
Dear Katie,
You have worked hard to get to where you are. Probably harder in the last few years than ever before, as new tasks and challenges presented themselves quite boldly and the answers didn't always come to you as naturally and easily as they once had. But that's okay because these challenges have been so good for you. They have provided you with a new perspective on what (and who) really matter. They have given you a new patience and grace with people while also reminding you that life is simply too wonderful to waste holding grudges and being angry.
While I refuse to tell you (me?) that "your real life is about to start" because everything up until this point has really been real life, I will tell you that you are balancing on the cusp of big things. Or, in triathlon terms, you are at the transition between the swim and the bike. You have survived a tough part, but there are still big hills to climb and rocky roads. There might even be a flat tire, but you can fix it. Above all, there are always other cyclists. You can always ask for help and no one who loves you is going to be disappointed that you didn't have the right answer or all of the resources. You are still young; forgive yourself the way others forgive you.
Continue working hard and do not get discouraged. Lots of things will change: your job, where you live, who you hang out with, your favorite TV show, the song that makes you drum the steering wheel. There are, however, some things about you that are just truth. Whether you like it or not. You are blunt and honest and that will please some and offend many. You are uninhibited with your stories and bring an inextinguishable energy to discussion. You are a good friend and in return you have earned the respect and love of many people who need you in much the same way that you need them. Hold tight to these truths, and do not put energy into changing them. They are the fibers of Katie, just as much as your Great-grandpa Lyle's big blue eyes, your mother's sensitivity to animals, your father's love for belly laughs, and that crazy head of messy curls that is uniquely you.
Hang in there kid.
XOXO
(Future) Katie
Monday, December 20, 2010
Reverb 10.20: Beyond Avoidance.
December 20-- Beyond Avoidance. What should you have done this year but didn't because you were too scared, worried, unsure, busy or otherwise deterred from doing? (Bonus: will you do it?)
I am sure the last 11 months and 20 days presented me with opportunities I could have done, but as the year plays out its very last days, I can confidently and honestly write that I don't think there is anything else I should have done that would have moved mountains or changed my life.
Of course, there's some usual players in the woulda-coulda-shoulda game. I should have saved more money. I should have logged more miles on the trail/bike/treadmill. I should have applied for more jobs. I should have networked harder. I should have eaten more lettuce and less chocolate. I should have done more laundry and I should have stopped procrastinating.
Those of you who know me well know I am much more apt to do something I shouldn't have than not do something I should have. Happy to report that this only happened a handful of times this year, and I usually recognized it immediately the next morning. Ugh. I should have stopped a beer or two earlier. And a lot of the other "shouldn't do but I am going to anyway" moments have turned in to some of the best stories of the year. So despite what is beginning to feel like Reverb10's way of trying to make me repent for all of the ways I was a horrible human last year and make me vow to right myself in time for 2011, I have no regrets about the woulda-coulda-shouldas from 2010.
I am sure the last 11 months and 20 days presented me with opportunities I could have done, but as the year plays out its very last days, I can confidently and honestly write that I don't think there is anything else I should have done that would have moved mountains or changed my life.
Of course, there's some usual players in the woulda-coulda-shoulda game. I should have saved more money. I should have logged more miles on the trail/bike/treadmill. I should have applied for more jobs. I should have networked harder. I should have eaten more lettuce and less chocolate. I should have done more laundry and I should have stopped procrastinating.
Those of you who know me well know I am much more apt to do something I shouldn't have than not do something I should have. Happy to report that this only happened a handful of times this year, and I usually recognized it immediately the next morning. Ugh. I should have stopped a beer or two earlier. And a lot of the other "shouldn't do but I am going to anyway" moments have turned in to some of the best stories of the year. So despite what is beginning to feel like Reverb10's way of trying to make me repent for all of the ways I was a horrible human last year and make me vow to right myself in time for 2011, I have no regrets about the woulda-coulda-shouldas from 2010.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Reverb 10.19: Healing.
December 19-- Healing. What healed you this year? Was it sudden, or a drip-by-drip evolution? How would you liked to be healed in 2011?
I am assuming the author of this prompt is looking for something a little deeper, and a little more spiritual than "Three Buck Chuck. The Merlot, please."
Okay, just let me put this glass down and get to thinking and a-ticka-typing.
Laughter. Laughing in celebration. Laughing in disbelief. Laughing so hard I cried and crying so hard I laughed. Making friends and family laugh. Laughing at home, laughing at work, and sending a hearty 'LOL' in response to a well-told joke sent many miles via text. Sometimes it's a sudden outburst of laughter that makes you spit your coffee across the table and sometimes it's a story that starts a tickle in your toes and rolls in to a giant belly laugh that just won't subside.
I guess I could look for something else to heal myself with next year-- maybe I could start becoming more one with my mindsoulbody by starting yoga or drink seaweed smoothies to literally heal myself when I am ill.
But laughing rarely has me bent with my butt in my air and my head tucked behind my ankles and it never makes me gag (although sometimes I might sputter, but you'd have to tell a heck of a knock knock joke). It's pretty cheap, easy to come by, and has worked so well, that I think I might stick with it in 2011.
I am assuming the author of this prompt is looking for something a little deeper, and a little more spiritual than "Three Buck Chuck. The Merlot, please."
Okay, just let me put this glass down and get to thinking and a-ticka-typing.
Laughter. Laughing in celebration. Laughing in disbelief. Laughing so hard I cried and crying so hard I laughed. Making friends and family laugh. Laughing at home, laughing at work, and sending a hearty 'LOL' in response to a well-told joke sent many miles via text. Sometimes it's a sudden outburst of laughter that makes you spit your coffee across the table and sometimes it's a story that starts a tickle in your toes and rolls in to a giant belly laugh that just won't subside.
I guess I could look for something else to heal myself with next year-- maybe I could start becoming more one with my mindsoulbody by starting yoga or drink seaweed smoothies to literally heal myself when I am ill.
But laughing rarely has me bent with my butt in my air and my head tucked behind my ankles and it never makes me gag (although sometimes I might sputter, but you'd have to tell a heck of a knock knock joke). It's pretty cheap, easy to come by, and has worked so well, that I think I might stick with it in 2011.
Reverb 10.18: Try.
December 18--What do you want to try next year? Is there something you wanted to try in 2010? What happened when you did/didn't go for it?
I am going to skip the second part of this question, except gloss it over really quickly with this statement: In 2010 I tried mostly at finishing school and finding and excelling in a fledgling career. In all that chaos, I tried feverishly to hold tight to friendships changed by geography, new priorities, and a more 'adult' routine (oh, 9-5 life, you can make me so exhausted). 2010 was not a year of going out on a limb. Rather it was a year of letting the tree grow just a little, but hanging pretty tightly to the roots.
There's lots of things to try in 2011:
- Saving money for experiences rather than things.
- Keeping my things organized. Keeping my time more organized.
- Complete triathlon #4 (maybe #5 too).
- Run a 10K (that's 6.2 miles for you English-system lovers).
- Patience (but I probably give this up on January 6).
- Eating mushrooms? We'll see...
I bet there is a lot more to try in the 365 days that are about to come at me. The biggest thing is to try not to say no to great opportunities. Inhale every breath of adventure, soak up all the knowledge that is presented before me, and make the most of the good and bad in those around me.
Reverb 10.17: Lesson Learned.
December 17-- Lesson Learned. What is the best lesson you learned about yourself this past year? And how will you apply that lesson going forward?
I am a tugboat.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Reverb 10.16: Friendship.
December 16-- How has a friend changed you or your perspective on the world this year? Was the change gradual, or a sudden burst?
My friends have done something much more incredible this year; they have pulled off almost the miraculous.
The have changed my perspective of myself and yet left me wholly intact and still loving myself, maybe even more than before.
There's a glamorous side to having had the blessing to be successful in many of the things I have tried in life: the accomplishments. And that's what those around you focus on; professors dote on you, employers promote you and talk about how fabulous you are as an employee and a member of the team. You get awards and you win prizes and get to read your name in the paper and people talk about you. You appear to be a never-ending chain of gold stars.
And there's a dark side to it: the pressure. You inevitably become a robot to other people; someone with a perfect (or darn close) track record and suddenly not only is it unexpected that you would falter, it is not allowed. Or at least, it feels that way. So for most of my life, and it certainly still continues, I have worked to always be a success. Successful at school, successful at work, successful in being happy, successful in getting my ducks in a row (or successful in making them appear so). And it pays great dividends in all areas of life, including friendship. And in my mind, no one wanted to be friends with a failure and I was so caught up in my life as someone successful that I didn't know what else I brought to a friendship rather than my accomplishments. And best yet, I was even fairly accomplished at making and keeping friends.
In case you haven't picked up on the pervasive theme of my Reverb writing, 2010 was a beautiful but really tough year. Big hurdles. And many times I found myself not successful anymore. I fell behind on my masters project more than once. I battled a somewhat serious lapse in mental health when insane pressure from school and saying goodbye to someone very important to me happened at the exact same time. I have failed to find success in landing a permanent position in my field. In fact, I have missed this success in exactly (checking email records) 46 online applications, 4 mailed applications, 2 phone interviews, 1 personal interview, 12 rejection letters, and 2 rejection phone calls. I have failed to find success in achieving true financial independence, but I think I might be too poor to "test the success waters."
An especially poignant memory of friends from this past year occurred right in the middle of the mental health lapse I mentioned. A classmate was living in a beautiful home in small-town Wisconsin and over Spring Break several of us drove out there for a classic Irish St. Patrick's Day dinner, wine, perfect chats, and a old-fashioned slumber party. For days up until this trip I had been terribly sad and terribly stressed. I hadn't slept at all, I hadn't eaten well, I showered maybe once in four days and I am not sure I used soap. The energy it took to just pack up and commit to go out there for one night was enormous. I couldn't give my friends the focus they deserved; I hardly participated in anything more involved than nodding to their conversation while scratching the cat's belly. I had totally checked out of my whole world. And I noticed that that didn't bother them. I told them what was going on, there may have been some tears, and they simply wrapped me up in a kind of support that said "You could do anything and this-- right here-- this is always going to exist."
And that sort of Aha! moment made me see the same in the other friendships I had. And it didn't matter if I won first place, tripped over my feet all the way to the finish line, or simply said "Forget it. I don't want to do this"*, all of my friends were really the truest sort and were going to forgive the little things and love me just the same. And it allowed me to forgive the little things and love myself just the same.
It's not a different perspective on the world--I still feel horribly confused about the state of affairs on our orbiting ball. But it's a different perspective on myself that will likely change my world and the way I act in it.
* Although, most of them know I would really never quit anything.
My friends have done something much more incredible this year; they have pulled off almost the miraculous.
The have changed my perspective of myself and yet left me wholly intact and still loving myself, maybe even more than before.
There's a glamorous side to having had the blessing to be successful in many of the things I have tried in life: the accomplishments. And that's what those around you focus on; professors dote on you, employers promote you and talk about how fabulous you are as an employee and a member of the team. You get awards and you win prizes and get to read your name in the paper and people talk about you. You appear to be a never-ending chain of gold stars.
And there's a dark side to it: the pressure. You inevitably become a robot to other people; someone with a perfect (or darn close) track record and suddenly not only is it unexpected that you would falter, it is not allowed. Or at least, it feels that way. So for most of my life, and it certainly still continues, I have worked to always be a success. Successful at school, successful at work, successful in being happy, successful in getting my ducks in a row (or successful in making them appear so). And it pays great dividends in all areas of life, including friendship. And in my mind, no one wanted to be friends with a failure and I was so caught up in my life as someone successful that I didn't know what else I brought to a friendship rather than my accomplishments. And best yet, I was even fairly accomplished at making and keeping friends.
In case you haven't picked up on the pervasive theme of my Reverb writing, 2010 was a beautiful but really tough year. Big hurdles. And many times I found myself not successful anymore. I fell behind on my masters project more than once. I battled a somewhat serious lapse in mental health when insane pressure from school and saying goodbye to someone very important to me happened at the exact same time. I have failed to find success in landing a permanent position in my field. In fact, I have missed this success in exactly (checking email records) 46 online applications, 4 mailed applications, 2 phone interviews, 1 personal interview, 12 rejection letters, and 2 rejection phone calls. I have failed to find success in achieving true financial independence, but I think I might be too poor to "test the success waters."
An especially poignant memory of friends from this past year occurred right in the middle of the mental health lapse I mentioned. A classmate was living in a beautiful home in small-town Wisconsin and over Spring Break several of us drove out there for a classic Irish St. Patrick's Day dinner, wine, perfect chats, and a old-fashioned slumber party. For days up until this trip I had been terribly sad and terribly stressed. I hadn't slept at all, I hadn't eaten well, I showered maybe once in four days and I am not sure I used soap. The energy it took to just pack up and commit to go out there for one night was enormous. I couldn't give my friends the focus they deserved; I hardly participated in anything more involved than nodding to their conversation while scratching the cat's belly. I had totally checked out of my whole world. And I noticed that that didn't bother them. I told them what was going on, there may have been some tears, and they simply wrapped me up in a kind of support that said "You could do anything and this-- right here-- this is always going to exist."
And that sort of Aha! moment made me see the same in the other friendships I had. And it didn't matter if I won first place, tripped over my feet all the way to the finish line, or simply said "Forget it. I don't want to do this"*, all of my friends were really the truest sort and were going to forgive the little things and love me just the same. And it allowed me to forgive the little things and love myself just the same.
It's not a different perspective on the world--I still feel horribly confused about the state of affairs on our orbiting ball. But it's a different perspective on myself that will likely change my world and the way I act in it.
* Although, most of them know I would really never quit anything.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Reverb 10.15: 5 Minutes.
December 15-- 5 Minutes. Imagine you will completely lose your memory of 2010 in five minutes. Set an alarm for five minutes and capture the things you most want to remember about 2010.
This list is not entirely comprehensive, as I only had 5 minutes for a heck of a year. The last item is sort of a catch-all.
Best New Year's kick off ever (subsequent 4 day hangover/moviefest less fabulous, but still great story). Graduation. Tubing down the Apple River-- getting ridiculously sunburnt the first time and battling a thunderstorm and ultra-slow river the second. Golden birthday celebration. Roomies' birthday celebrations. Break up celebrations. Celebrations. The rush of relief upon hearing "You have finished your Masters of Public Health with no revisions to your final paper." Selling my artwork. Beautiful weddings. Excited phone calls from some of my most favorite people announcing their engagements. Recently, a Snowmaggedon/Tsnownami/Snowpacolypse. A big kid job and then a bigger kid promotion. Excelling at that job and starting to make a teeny tiny name for myself. Happy.
This list is not entirely comprehensive, as I only had 5 minutes for a heck of a year. The last item is sort of a catch-all.
Best New Year's kick off ever (subsequent 4 day hangover/moviefest less fabulous, but still great story). Graduation. Tubing down the Apple River-- getting ridiculously sunburnt the first time and battling a thunderstorm and ultra-slow river the second. Golden birthday celebration. Roomies' birthday celebrations. Break up celebrations. Celebrations. The rush of relief upon hearing "You have finished your Masters of Public Health with no revisions to your final paper." Selling my artwork. Beautiful weddings. Excited phone calls from some of my most favorite people announcing their engagements. Recently, a Snowmaggedon/Tsnownami/Snowpacolypse. A big kid job and then a bigger kid promotion. Excelling at that job and starting to make a teeny tiny name for myself. Happy.
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