k8’s poetry corner

I may or may not have a date to eat ice cream with a gentleman named Peter this week (it all hinges on a scheduling conflict). In his honor, I wrote this poem:

Peter, Peter, ice cream eater
Had a date but couldn't meet her
Put her in an ice cream cone
And there he left her, all alone.

Today, I was in the park and saw this five foot girl kissing this seven foot guy. In her honor, I wrote this poem:

A note to short girls
Please stop dating the tall guys
They are hard to find.

And recently, a friend of mine told me he threw a baby shower (with two kegs), at which he and guests of his rode down the stairs of his house on his ironing board. In their honor, I wrote this poem:

There once were some guys drinking rums
Who ironed the stairs with their bums
When no one was hurt
Each took off his shirt
And showed off rug burns on his thumbs.

(I have photos to prove it.)

throngs of gifts

I am blessed.

I mean, I know we're all blessed, and there are days we choose to see it and days we choose not to, and today I chose to see my blessings, and boy, am I drowning in them.

First, there's my friend who called me last night. She was very clear with what she needed:

"Kate, I just need to cry. I don't need advice, and I might need you to ask me questions that will help me continue to cry. Can you do that?"

Yeah, I can do that.

And she cried and cried and cried, releasing tons of angst back into the universe, freeing herself from pain and showing me a lovely, whole, strong, delicate, beautful, gorgeous, passionate woman.

Dip me in chocolate, and I'm in heaven.

Then, today, one of the students in my powerpoint class sent me an email with a presentation in it, showing me everything she had learned in my class. My favorite slide?

I don't care that it looks like it was done by and 8 year old. I LOVE IT.

And lastly, I share this gift with you. It's the carrot I couldn't find last week because it was hiding under my dry cleaning:
And, at the risk of sounding wikkid god and jesusy, but without that intent at all,

may you be blessed today, too.

i am corporately challenged... again!

It's an annual thing, getting corporately challenged. (Well, at least it is for all the cool kids.)

This year, I had a better idea about what I was in for, and I was psyched! I was going to run my little heart out and show the rest of my team how valuable I could be! (Aren't I cute when I think like a freshman?)

Yeah, ok, so it looked like rain. Whatever. It rained last year, and I survived. (Please god don't rain, please oh please oh pleaseohplease!)

Sidebar: I thought about bringing a backup pair of shoes (in case mine got soaked, like they did last year), and I had a sweater to put on in case it was really cold. But, looking back, once I started to get cold, I forgot about the sweater all together, and truly wished I had brought the extra shoes.

The team was much bigger this year. About 25 of us headed out of the office (we were like the corporate version of the Blob), took to the subway (much to the chagrin of regular 1 train riders everywhere) and arrived at the park en masse, all of us wearing our stunning "Talk to my Lawyer" t-shirts. (Sadly, the "funny" part of the shirt (if you're even that generous about it) was on the front. Which is not the part that ANYBODY ever saw. Next year they should give us shorts with that emblazoned across the ass!)

We forded our way into the crowd, ready to run, but found ourselves stuck together for another fifteen minutes or so (which was fine by me, because, once again, I had picked a cool group of people to be with). Once the race finally started, I fired up a little Elvis Presley and had a grand old time. Those first few minutes are my favorite -- bobbing and weaving through the people, narrowly avoiding stepping on someone's heels, and not yet feeling like the next burp might have a visitor tagging along with it. I have to be so present when I run in a pack like that, that a mile can go by without me even noticing it. I kept remembering something I had written earlier, about how running is much easier when you think of it in now-sized chunks.

Because, oh, did I mention it started to rain? Not just a little rain, either. A big soaker. The kind of rain commuters hate getting stuck in. A puddle-builder rain. A shirt-drencher rain. A raisiny-foot-maker rain.

Things were going well, but damply, until about mile two.

"Excuse me, Kate?"

"Yes?"

"We'd really like to stay here for a while."

"Um, no, macro-vegan thai dumplings that I had for lunch. You kind of need to cross the finish line with me."

"No, thanks. We like it here. We think we'll stay."

"NO! That's rude, and contributes to my overall fear of barf in public places. You, dumplings (and salad and cookie), will stay inside me even if it makes my tummy cramp and I smell worse than the guys from Google!"

(and p.s., maybe it was just something about the fabric of the Google shirts, or maybe it was because they had no sleeves, but those guys were STINKY! woof!)

Anyway, I (with the dumplings -- and, oddly, the Tattoo impersonator in the bright orange t-shirt and wildly yanked up knee socks who had been surging and retreating around me for the whole race) finished the race in Kate's Record Time (32:00 on the nose -- 29:00 if you subtract the three minutes of marching in place) and walked off the rest of the ominous digestive threat. They gave us water and the biggest stack of bananas I've ever seen in my life, and I watched as all the racers' heads steamed. (I'd have killed for a camera. Or dry socks. Or a litter.)

Oh, did I mention that it stopped raining? As soon as the race was over. Cute.

I met up with a co-worker and headed over to the after-party bar, where we were promptly plied with greasy foods and much to drink. I ended up in a corner, listening to a guy kvetch about his love life, playing with the toy alligator that came in the fishbowl drink, eating mashed potatoes with my fingers, and all in all, feeling like part of a team. A bedraggled, half-drunk, soggy, and far-too-soon-to-be-regretful team, but a team nonetheless.

I definitely should have stretched, though. That's gonna hurt.

rally for a worthy cause

ok, so I lied. no worthy causes here. just wildly important, ego-boosting, life-changing and absurdly middle-schoolish internet competitions. (Hey, it's myspace. Isn't that why they built this site?)


I have a friend who plays rugby in Colorado. His team has an online roster. He and a teammate* have this ongoing feud about who's being looked at more often online. I told him that my readership was a dedicated bunch and would help him pull ahead in the polls. (and ladies, he's a good looking guy so you might just enjoy having a gander at him.)
Can you possibly prove me wrong? (the right answer there is, "no, Kate, never! You're such an intriguing blogger and err on the side of truth most of the time that we've come to respect your judgment and wisdom")


(another right answer would be simply "no.")


So go ahead. See Andrew in all his glory. Make his day. (I'ts ok, he deserves it.) Oh, and if you live in Denver and want to meet him (and, of course, are popular enough yourself) let me know.


http://www.denverbarbarians.com//index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=149&Itemid=30


*I can't tell you the name of his teammate, as you'll want to know what's so special about him, and you'll check him out, too. I know, I know, you say you won't, but you will. Just trust me. For reasons I can't explain, his teammate goes by the name "Pipes" and has Festive Hair. You don't need to see him.**


** now you want to see him all the more, don't you? ok, ok, here he is:


(I told you it was festive.)

a very exhausting week

Dear Kate,

We're pooped. Seriously. Three weekends out of town including a wedding and two reunions? We can't take it anymore. Here's a list of our grievances, simply for the last week:

Friday June 6th, you made us churn poor old Stomach with unnecessary worry. Don't you know she hates that? Do you have any idea the toll she took on dear old Esophagus? (No, no, don't blame the wine. That was a mere symptom.) We keep telling you you're just as fabulous as all your classmates. When will you learn?

Saturday the 7th, you very carelessly sprained Sleep. Sleep is our friend, and not someone you want to have against you. In the future, please do not fuck with Sleep.

Sunday the 8th, we're pretty sure you pulled one of us. We're very understanding (what with that being our job), but seriously? Knock it off. We could go back to the way we were in high school, and NOBODY wants that.

Monday the 9th, you didn't nourish us. Do you think emotions can function without rest?
Ignore us again like that and we'll repeat Tuesday. (That's right, missy, pony up for some kleenex before doing that again!)

Tuesday the 10th, see above.

Wednesday the 11th, you dare induce a freak out? We're tired. We've been through a lot. Do you really think that now is the time to wonder if you're good enough again? Please. We're begging you. Listen to us this time. You're smart, funny, and people like you.

Now give us a vacation, and we'll call it evens.

Love,
Your emotions

some things i learned at my ten year reunion

1. There were a few classmates I spoke to who firmly believed that what they're doing with their lives is the right thing, but they were few and far between. The rest of us were wonderfully vulnerable, honest, lost little sheep, slowly finding our way to the great meadow. (Or, really, the bar.) I heard the phrases "transition period," "I just started," and "oh, I don't know" often enough to feel welcome.

2. I didn't go out nearly enough in college.

3. The guy in my high school math class that I thought was popular because he played sports and was good looking? Apparently he wasn't. (But doesn't my thinking him so make him so? Or would I have had to be cooler at the time to merit an opinion?)

4. My heart has an amazing capacity to stretch. I had no intention of cramming all those people in there, and yet, here I am, three days later, toting them around with me and wanting to find a way to have brunch with every single one of them. Every day.

Grad school, anyone?

5. Sometimes, trying something new can be incredibly rewarding. (Sometimes, revelations can be incredibly vague.)

6. There are some good looking guys in our class. There are also some VERY pregnant women.

7. Sleeping in a dorm room in New Haven is like sleeping in a washing machine full of toddlers and marbles.

8. If you have nothing to do for the afternoon there's a pretty good chance there are a number of other people in the same boat. Find some and chat them up. They might turn out to be awesome. (And set you up with their co-workers! Hooray!)

9. As done as I say I am with acting, when a classmate of mine (whose opinion I really respect) told me he thought I was "one of the good ones," I seriously (albeit briefly) considered going back to it.

10. Jumping on an empty water bottle with the cap loosely fitted to it is a bad activity in a crowd. However, if you're going to engage in it, be sure to hit a guy in the military and make super-nice with his wife. Then everything will turn out fine.

11. I can run farther than I did in college. (Even hungover at 8:45 am!)

12. There are bathtubs in the basements of some of the freshman dorms. Do freshmen really
take baths? Believing that they couldn't possibly, I clambered into one for a rest. I felt like beer.

13. While identity is completely fluid, some element of character persists. What I liked in people ten years ago is still present, and in some cases, has grown brighter and more precious. What I didn't like has either faded away, or I've made peace with it inside of myself. Seeing everyone as innocent and every encounter as new made the weekend really vibrant, and I wish that was a skill I'd had in college.

Then surely, I'd have gone out more.

things that i stared at today (and no, they weren’t cute boys, alas)

Today held a collection of weird-ass sights. Some were so odd I just had to stare. I'm not a big starer, believing that gawking can be rude and annoying (especially when it causes bottlenecks) but I was jostled out of my normally fluid ways today by the following odd sights:

1. Man with Seemingly Dead Dog
I was walking past the Seagram's Building on 53rd Street and it's got this huge plaza out front. And smack in the middle of the plaza, completely alone is a man on a cellphone, holding the leash of a dog that is totally couched out. I mean, laying there as if it's dead. (Not with its legs up in the air like we used to do when we played dead dog as kids, but almost as stereotypical as that.) It couldn't have looked deader if it tried.

As I walked past, I looked at the dog and then at the man and then back at the dog. The dog wasn't breathing, I swear. But the man didn't seem remotely concerned.

So maybe he has A Very Shallow Breathing Dog. (oh I hope so.)

2. Man About to Wash His Windows With a Teddy Bear
I was walking to the subway and there was a guy in his front yard (or what passes for a "front yard" in Brooklyn) and he was taking the jacket off of a teddy bear. Because, I swear, he was going to use that bear to wash his windows. I'm not at all sure what gave me this impression, but I felt terrible for the bear, and thought for sure there must be a better way to clean windows.

(I guess the guy was just taking off the jacket so as to not get it dirty.)

3. Art?
There's a storefront gallery space near my apartment and on the way home I saw that they were installing a new piece. It's a sculpture/painting/thingamabob/whoosiewhatzit that, if I had to sum it up in three words would be simply "infected volcanic buttholes."

I stared least long at this particular sight.