I Don’t Want to Be a Writer…But I Am

I don’t want to be a writer but I can’t stop writing.

That’s a lie.

I can’t stop writing in my head. I rarely write anything down. Instead, I lie awake at night until all hours of the morning while snippets of stories, true and not so true, float around in my head (this is probably the cause of my undying love of coffee).

Obviously, I do my best thinking at night but I also stumble upon some wonderful epiphanies while in the shower. I have often longed for the invention of waterproof paper to record these wonderful ideas that pop into my head while I shampoo. Alas, once my hair is rinsed and the water is turned off, the brilliance is gone never to be found again in the same way.

In my head I have chapters upon chapters, vinegette after vinegette. I have tales and truths that will never be told. In my possession I have a black notebook with 200 sheets of paper contained within. Each page is filled with half spun tales, harebrained story ideas gone awry, and memories from my childhood that did not make it to fruition on paper. Nobody will ever read the darkest parts of my soul.

One might wonder why I have two writing jobs along with my “real” job. Another mystery revolves around why I am getting a degree in English with plans to go to graduate school. A pertinent question would also include: why the heck am I taking a creative non-fiction writing class? The biggest question: why don’t I want to be a writer?

I will never be a prolific writer. Although, that idea does not seem that difficult these days. Apparently, all one needs to do is write a young adult novel involving sparkley vampires or teenagers fighting for their lives in a dystopian world. I don’t want to do that. I do want to do that. I don’t know what I want to do.

With my whole life ahead of me and the world at my fingertips I don’t know what is in store for my future. I have so many worlds in my head, so many stories yearning to be told, so many memories that are asking for a voice. Perhaps one day I will let them speak for themselves. Right now, however, I am content with keeping the voices in my head, living in quiet obscurity. I might not get a full eight hours of sleep while they are waiting, but at least I can still sleep at night knowing they are safe.

Dear Grandmommy

Edna Elizabeth Brainerd
1917-2013

Dear Grandmommy,

You’ve been gone a year. I don’t know how that happened but somehow a year has passed without you. At times I felt like it would never end; then again it seems like all I did was blink and here we are again.

I miss you. That goes without saying I suppose. Sometimes I feel like things are going okay. It’s not that I don’t think about you but some days are better than others. I’ll be cruising along without a problem and then I’ll eat a Caesar salad and it’s all down hill from there. The last time we went out together I had a Caesar salad. It was my college graduation. You were beautiful and put on such a brave face despite knowing what was happening to you.

So much has happened in only a year.

We buried you in June. You would have been so proud of the story I had to tell my new boss. I had only been working at my clinic for a month when I had to take a week off for your funeral. I put in the request as soon as I was hired in May. She asked if a funeral was the kind of thing you planned a month in advance and I calmly explained that you died in April and didn’t want to be a bother so we were going to have a party and bury you when it was convenient for everyone. She seemed to think I was bullshitting her. It was just par for the course as far as I am concerned.

I was working on some original research last year. I never got to tell you about it but you’d be so proud. I presented a poster summary last October. The same paper was accepted to a conference in Scotland. Unfortunately I had to miss it because my funding fell through at the last minute. I’m not that concerned about it. This is just the start of something bigger.

Christmas was a bitch. The kids came out to decorate the tree with us. It was adorable. You’d be pissed to know that I had to duck into the bedroom more than once when the tears threatened to fall. Every ornament with “World’s Best Granddaughter” or “Grandma’s Favorite” written on it was almost too much. The ones with your handwriting on it broke my heart in a way words can never explain.

Sam remembers you. He only met you once when he was not even three years old, but you left an impression on that little boy. He enjoyed the stories I told him. One day we will watch your reading of The Night Before Christmas. I couldn’t do last year.

As much as I know you loved me I am so full of regret. I should have visited more when I lived at home. I should have written more when I moved away. I should have recorded your stories. I should have spent more time with you when you were in the hospital. I should have told you I loved you every god damn day.

I’m sorry I didn’t spend more time with you when I saw you for the last time. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to see you that way. I’m sorry I didn’t sit with you while you cried when your bandages where changed. I’m sorry I didn’t know what to say when you said you were scared of dying. I’m so sorry I walked away after that.

I know you love me and I know you held nothing against me then or now. In fact, I can hear you now telling me to stop crying because it’s a waste of time and effort. I wish it were that easy.

You are impossible to forget. Everyone who ever met you has a story to tell. You had a passion for life that was infectious. You were beautiful and wonderful and amazing and lived life so fully that I can’t imagine how difficult it was for you when all that ended after you broke your hip. Your eyes lost a bit of their sparkle and your smile was never quite the same after that.

All I wish for you now is that all the pain is gone and you are happy again. I am not a religious person but I pray that you dance every night away in heaven. I will always miss you but I take comfort in knowing that you can have everything in heaven that you were forced to give up on earth.

Please watch out for us, Grandmommy. Keep us safe until we meet again.

Love Always,
Your Kaitie

InnatelyKait’s 2014 Reading List

So, I have an Amazon Kindle full of books that I have yet to tackle.  I have this horrible book buying addiction.  If it sounds good, I have to own it even though it will be years before I have time to read it.  The Kindle only makes this 200 times worse with the really easy click the button have book delivered premise.  This is also a spendy button.

Anyway, to keep me on task (and remind me not to buy anymore books at this time) I am making a reading list for 2014.  These are the books I will read (maybe not in this order) and I will not buy any books until these are complete.

If I write it down, perhaps I will follow my own rule (right…).

And now: InnatelyKait’s 2014 Reading List Extravaganza!  Click the titles for more information on GoodReads.

1. White Fire (Pendergast #13) — Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child
2. Doctor Sleep (The Shining #2) — Stephen King
3. We Are Water — Wally Lamb
4. The Goldfinch — Donna Tartt
5. The Hobbit — J.R.R. Tolkien
6. The Lord of the Rings (Books 1-3) — J.R.R. Tolkien
7. In Cold Blood — Truman Capote
8. The Other Boleyn Girl — Phillipa Gregory
9. The Girl Who Played With Fire (Millennium #2) — Stieg Larsson
10. Gone, Baby, Gone — Dennis Lehane
11. Shutter Island — Dennis Lehane
12. I Am Legend — Richard Matheson
13. The Silence of the Lambs — Thomas Harris
14. The Exorcist — William Peter Blatty
15. 11/22/63 — Stephen King
16. Cryptonomicon — Neal Stephenson
17. Bone River — Megan Chance
18. Medicine Men: Extreme Appalachian Doctoring — Carolyn Jourdan
19. The Postmistress — Sarah Blake
20. The Monk: A Romance — M.G. Lewis
21. This Is Where I Leave You: A Novel — Jonathan Trapper
22. Coraline — Neil Gaiman
23. Clara and Mr. Tiffany: A Novel — Susan Vreeland
24. The Poisonwood Bible — Barbara Kingsolver
25. Anansi Boys — Neil Gaiman
26. The Pianist — Wladyslav Szpilman
27. After Visiting Friends: A Son’s Story — Michael Hainey
28. Man’s Search for Meaning — Viktor Frankl
29. Bad Habits: Confessions of a Recovering Catholic — Jenny McCarthy
30. How to Be Compassionate: A Handbook for Creating Inner Peace and a Happier World — Dalai Lama XIV, Jeffrey Hopkins

Meditating on Labels

I have been called bitch, ugly, loser, bad step-parent, lousy girlfriend, terrible person, failed veterinary technician, poor art historian, and not worth it.

I have been called intelligent, beautiful, selfless step-parent, wonderful girlfriend, compassionate person, amazing veterinary technician, innovative art historian,
and worth the world.

These words and labels, good and bad, don’t matter at all. The only words that matter are the words I say to myself when everyone else is gone.

Ode to 2013 or A Year in Review

Dear 2013,

I am really glad you are coming to an end.  I woke up on January 1, 2013 and I was happy as a clam.

“2013 is going to be my year,” I exclaimed as the sun shone in my apartment windows.  “Bring it on, 2013!  I can take you!”

Oh, 2013, you brought it.  You made me eat my words.  Let’s re-live some of the great moments from 2013, shall we?

That Time I Broke My Wrist

In January it snowed, thawed, snowed, thawed, and finally left us with a nice thick layer of ice.  Ice that was hidden under more snow.  One morning while leaving my apartment I slipped on that hidden ice.  In an effort to protect my skull from the lurking stoop behind me, I used my hand to break my fall.  This of course led to a broken wrist that will never heal.  Of course I was unable to work during this time because I was banned from lifting more than two pounds.
2013: 1
Kait: 0

The Spring Break That Wasn’t

In March I went back home to visit my Grandma.  To put it irreverently, she was on her way out.  She was fighting ulcers, MRSA, a flesh-eating infection, and some dementia.  Oh, and her heart (being 95-years-old) was struggling.  So I went home to settle up and say my goodbyes.  I watched her cry, vomit, talk about wanting to die, and generally suffer.  We finished up that party with a lovely family dinner that did not include my dad who was suffering from food poisoning and did include my mother who was suffering from food poisoning.  It was a great spring break…if your definition of great involves emotionally draining events and crying yourself to sleep every night.
2013: 2
Kait: 0

The Day My Kidney Tried to Kill Me

After driving for 10 hours we finally made it home from the Spring Break That Wasn’t.  Jon and I passed out hard.  I woke up at 3 o’clock in the morning with the WORST pain I have ever experienced.  After 5 hours of vomiting, screaming, and mysteriously ripping the elbows off my pajama top I was rushed to the ER.  One CAT scan and 18 milligrams of morphine later it was discovered that a kidney stone had completely blocked my ureter.  I was taken into surgery at 7pm that evening to have a stent placed.  The next morning I went home with a massive morphine hangover, enough pills to start a small (albeit illegal) pharmacy, and instructions to take it easy for 10 days.  That was a good time.
2013: 3
Kait: 0

The Phone Call Nobody Wants to Get

It was only April at this point.  I was preparing for finals, organizing papers, and projects, and trying not to go crazy in general.  Jon gets a text message and says to me, “You should call your dad…I think your grandma just died.”  Oh good.  Let me get right on that.  I’m sure you can figure out what happened after that.
2013: 4
Kait: 0

The Day I Put My Grandma in the Ground and Drove Away

Two months later, in June, we had a party and buried my grandma.  Wow, that sounds weird even when I type it.  Well, Grandma didn’t want to inconvenience anyone so she decided to be cremated so we could bury her when everyone had a free moment.  This is just getting weirder and weirder.  Since she hated funerals and always loved a good party the family threw a Funeral Party for Grandma.  Everyone ate cake, got drunk, and had a great time.  Yes, we are those people.  The next day we had the burial and I put my grandma’s urn in the ground.  Just sorta plopped the urn down in the hole and that was that.  Then I left her in Illinois, drove back to my parents’ house in Missouri, and flew home to Minneapolis.
2013: 5
Kait: 0

That Day I Lost My Job Because of Weird Inter-Office Politics

In July I got fired.  I’m not going to pretend it was the first time.  Back in the day I was fired a lot.  My teenage self was too big for my own britches.  I thought I was tough shit but I was really a dumb kid.  This past July, though, that was something else.  I loved my job.  I loved going to work everyday.  I worked hard and I finally felt like I was in the right place.  Well, one thing led to another and I was fired.  When I got the list of “reasons” I was shocked  learn they were all taken out of context or completely false.  It also turned out they all came from one person: the owner’s wife and her best friend.
2013: 6
Kait: 0

The Entire Fall Semester

This one was more or less my own fault.  I’m this incomprehensible mix of perfectionist and slacker.  I want to be perfect but I don’t want to work hard enough to be perfect.  So taking 19 credits that included two foreign languages and a 5000 level class was one of the dumbest things I’ve ever done.  This is, of course, why I lack a degree eight years into college.
2013: 6
Kait: -1

When My Hard Drive Died During Finals Week

So that happened yesterday.  That was when I decided that I’m really done with 2013.
2013: 7
Kait: -1

So you see, 2013, why I am ready for you to end.  Yes, we did have some good times.  My family came to visit and I presented ground-breaking research at a conference but really, 2013, you haven’t done much for me except drain my emotions and my bank account.

“Bring it, 2013,” I said.  “It’ll be fun,” I said.

Touche, 2013.

But now I ask you, my dear 2013, to kindly Get.The.Fuck.Out.

Sincerely,
Done with your shit.

P.S.
2014, if you are listening…Please have mercy.