Quick Kid Quips

Ben leaves for WSU in three days.

Three days later, an exchange student from Germany will manifest his presence in the room on the other side of the other wall in my bedroom.

Two days after that, I start my senior year.

People still ask me what my plan is.
Did I ever really have one?
I'm less concerned with maps of my future and where all these little pieces fit in and more concerned with the floorplan of knowing that they will make sense, that they will fit. That I will be a success not by scrupulous planning and the weights and measures of others' standards, but that I will be a success by my own devices. I will be a success in every way that God planned and willed for me to be.

Now to get off Defense,
-KL

There's Noone Else I Know How to Be

In T-minus 1.02 hours, we are having a House Opening.

I am not excited.

Yes, this means our house is the cleanest it's been since before we moved back in.
Yes, this means we're actually moved back in to our house, more or less.
Yes, this means dozens of people I don't know very well, or at all even, clomping around my home.

Now, I'm a pretty private person.  I don't really open myself up to other people, and I definitely don't feel very comfortable letting strangers and acquaintances nose about my room.  My room.  Mine. 
It's not that I really have anything in there to hide, necessarily.  Unlike someone in this house who covered up their pipe with laundry.  But this is my one space.  The one true tiny plot of land that is all me.  It's decorated the way I like it (T&S, foreign movie and zelda posters galore), my books are stacked by preference, my favorite movies and shows displayed openly (even the ones that declare me a complete and utter geek).
Invite people to walk through that, even after I've cleaned and shoved what I don't want seen into my closet.  It still feels like a total invasion.  My life and person is on display here and I can't help but feel exposed.
I know I shouldn't worry about little, ole' Master Gardener ladies and neighbors I've known all my life and whoever from West Side comes, but I can't help but think they will scrutinize my life, my interests, me.
It's totally irrational and I'm blowing it out of proportion, but I can't help it.
I love my room.
I love who I am and what I enjoy, but it's still so weird to be so open.

Paranoia be damned, I made brownies, perhaps I should have spiked them.

-KL

I'm Halfway There

Molly e-mailed me today saying she's "obsessed" with T&S.
I reminded her how much she despised and ridiculed them at first glance.
Let that be a lesson to you, Miss Mongo. Never scoff at my judgment and recommendations, especially when concerning talented Canadian twins.

It is in celebration in converting another soul to T&S that I write, well that and I have 35 minutes to kill before I go to work.

I spent a good chunk of my time yesterday finally sorting out all of the sheet music I have accumulated over the span of my worship career. It was kinda ridiculous the number of copies I had of some songs, and by "kinda", I mean REALLY. I'm pretty sure I piled my countless packets into a corner in my room and didn't touch them for three or four years. Add that to the number of different teams and people I've played with and that makes for quite a hefty stack. It made me nostalgic to think of all the groups I've played with: about four Youth Sundays, two Trainee Sundays, four Deputations, CFM Sunday School, Pathfinder Musicals (I don't really miss those), and six or so years of Youth Worship band.
I miss playing with people. I miss having that team. I miss having a place.

I don't know if I'll play this fall when programs kick off again. At this point, I don't know if there will really even be a program, at least a program like any sort I've been involved in before. If there is something, who knows if I'll even be able to participate due to school and work.

Oh well, one of the benefits of playing guitar is that you can play it without any accompaniment and it sounds just fine, at least so long as I can still play worth a darn.

I kid you not, there are probably 13 "Undignified"s and 11 "I Am Free"s in that there front pile alone.

To never playing in Hans Bronson again,

-KL

I'm Not Unfaithful, But I'll Stray

I don't know if you've noticed, but I haven't blogged in awhile.
I know, weird.

I suppose the desire to type out anecdotal evidence of my existence has just left the building. Typing out pieces of my day or how I'm feeling to people who may or may not be reading has very little appeal to me anymore. I don't know what I'm supposed to say. I don't know what I should write.

The truth?

No.

Since when has anyone ever wanted the truth. Least of all me.

I don't mean to be negative about the whole blog-writing shtick, but it's just not what I wanted it to be. Now, this isn't to say that I'm leaving forever, I may or may not resurface (hell, maybe even tomorrow (but don't hold your breath)). I'd just rather have real conversations, real relations of my day, my life, my thoughts, feelings, desires. I know that's not possible for some people reading this, per se (i.e. Chile...?).

hmm, awkwardly transitioned ending?

yes.

Miles Through the Nighttime

I'm opening tomorrow.
I'm wide awake.
My phone is so slow.
Reminds me of the computer WSU "gifted" me with.
Amazing how fast technology depreciates.
How fast it all goes sour.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Like a Tumor

Perhaps he really was right.
"Humility" is just a synonym for "doormat".


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

The Night Which Will Live in Infamy, or at least permanently in my brain

So.
The concert was
AMAZING!
was there ever any doubt?

The whole trip was awesome and much needed. I went with my friend Jordyn and we drove to Portland pretty much straight from school (after getting much needed sustenance from Barracuda's first). The last time I went to Portland with a friend, she fell asleep and it was rather drawl. Thankfully, Jordyn didn't--especially since she was driving.

With relatively few tactical errors or difficulties getting to the venue (thanks to The Google and the power of the iPhone), we arrived early and parked in a cozy garage. As we were pulling in though, I looked across the street to a small park and saw a small crowd of people with giant, green, blow-up alligators. One in the crowd was "riding" the alligator in a (f)risky manner. I stared at Jordyn and proclaimed, "Why is that man humping an alligator?" When we crossed the street we saw it was a woman and I was embarrassed, especially because I had forgotten that the alligator represented Tegan and Sara's new single, "Alligator". She then pulled out a boombox and proceeded to teach the surrounding fans the dance from the music video. It was disturbing and I am glad I am a super-fan, but not a CRAZY-super-fan.

After chilling in the park and then walking through a cloud of pot smoke, we entered the venue and got our seats. Unfortunately it wasn't general admission and everybody had assigned seats. We weren't in a terrible spot though. We were in the center column, about 2/3 back to the point where we were about eye-level with whoever was on stage.
Example:


The opening acts were semi-decent. We both agreed that Holly Miranda would have been much better as a solo act, though her cover of "I'd Rather Go Blind" by Etta James was stellar. Steel Train...let's just say I'd never go see that euphemistic band again unless they were an opener and I had no choice.

Finally, after two hours of sitting, the glory arrived. The backdrop fell and everybody screamed. The first words out of Tegan's mouth were, "Thank you, we're Tegan and Sara and we're from the socialist nation of Canada so you have the choice and if you feel like standing up, you go ahead!" Done.

From start to finish Jordyn and I were screaming and clapping and singing our lungs out. So epic.
The only thing I wish had happened would be that they bantered more. T&S are famous for telling stories and bantering at length between songs. I don't know if it was because this was the last night of the tour or what, but there were only 2 or 3 stories and Sara said very little at all.
But whatever because I am a content fan who saw my favorite band live and they were superb all the same. I wish I could go back and live in that night whenever I want.

I'm presenting to you this: it's one of their older songs, but they played it in the encore without the rest of their band and it's such a beautiful song Tegan wrote about when she didn't think that they would make it and Sara wanted to quit the band altogether.


and lastly, because I can't resist, I bring you: "Alligator Humping (wo)Man"
You have been warned.
-KL

Take My Aim/Feel You Coming Close

I haven't written a blog in so long...I'm surprised that Molly hasn't accosted me yet.

However, you shall have to wait til tomorrow. Or better yet, Friday; considering I won't be home til early early.



Mmmhmm.
Luego mi amor.

-KL

Skeleton You Are My Friend

Sigh.
What a weekend it has been.

I don't know why I didn't blog about this sooner, maybe I was just waiting for something more tangible. Anyways, about a week and a half ago now...

*drum-roll please*

We got occupancy on our house! (Finally)

My dad had fired the contractor two days prior, so it was doubley awesome. In my cynicism, I'm convinced that had he not fired the guy, we'd still be in the rental til April (at least).
That being said, I spent my day off Friday hauling box after box across the street and up the stairs to my new room. I had most of my room in the other house by the time I had to go to my first worship practice since December.
The following morning I woke up for work, switched on my overhead light and the last bulb (out of four) burnt out. I saw that as the sign that it was the day to move the bed. Last night I became the first to spend the night in "The Steamboat" (something I've semi-affectionately deemed the house).
Sitting here now, besides feeling exhausted, spent, and sore; I do kind of get a sense of home. It's bizarre moving back into my childhood home after a two-and-a-half year span of absence. Even though my room is the only one that looks wholly furnished and occupied, I imagine walking downstairs and finding everything just as I left it so many years ago.

We're still a long ways away from being completely moved in. Like a long, long ways in a faraway galaxy. It doesn't really help that only two people so far have done all the moving. I won't name names, but The Brunettes kick ass in working hard.

Know who else kicks ass? David, the guy doing our closets. He just works. I appreciate that. I wish he had been doing this whole job. We might have made it in by the first estimated date, third at the latest.

Alas, the outdated system that is daylight savings is getting the best of my mental faculties. And it'll get the best of my sleep when I have to get up for work. Curse you, rural farming communities who decided to set up our national time keeping system!

Buenas noches mis fajitas.

What to do with the leftover you

This blog is for Molly.
Little did I know that she depended on my blogs like she depends on punching people.
Appreciate the fact that I turned my computer back on just for you, my dear.
I know, Living Sacrifice personified.

So, life.
I've been working a lot. Brandon went to weekends only so he could be Mr. Dad for his new daughter. While his replacement is getting trained, I'm taking his shifts which means I go straight from work to school most days. I've become quite adept at changing pants in my cozy car. And the extra time has cushioned my tip cup quite nicely. It's also given me the opportunity to work on my latte art which I somewhat difficult for me because it requires me to be both patient and relent on perfectionist tenancies. It's also funny though as Annette has asked me to do the espresso cart at church every other week or so and when I pour drinks there, if there's even a tiny squiggle or hint of movement in the foam, they gather around and "oooh" or "ahh"! It makes me feel better when I try to actually do a rosetta at work and fail epically whilst Joey or Nicci are watching.

School is the same old same old. Have I mentioned I despise Russian history?
I do.
I am excited that I will probably never have to touch another Russian class after this semester though. But then again, knowing WSU TC and the innovation they possess, they will find a way to change that!

I spent the majority of the daylight hours with Padre today. The crisp pre-noon half-hour or so was spent digging through the recycling receptacles with a metal rake. We had taken cardboard from outside the "Old" house last night to recycle like the back-patting, earth saving, global warming stopping superheroes we are. Then this morning, Mom "informed" us that there was a power strip in a long cardboard tube that needed to be returned. So off we went to retrieve the tube.
I don't know about elsewhere, but around these parts it seems the people enjoy spending their leisurely Sunday mornings hauling giant chunks of cardboard to the recycle bins. There were so many new pieces on top of where I thought I had put the tubes.
So there we were, man with a metal rake, girl with a shovel, trying to pull waste out of a huge bin with only half-a-foot openings. It also didn't help that the slats were at about forehead level for me.
After many scrapped knuckles on Padre's part, weird looks from other green superheroes, and one man informing us that pulling things out is illegal, we found all the tubes.
And they were empty.

Thankfully, the rest of our day was not quite as wasted as we then went home and swept, vacuumed, and mopped the entire basement. It was not the most exhilarating tasks to do on one's day off, but we were happy to work together and get us all one step closer to D-Day.

So I guess that's my update/instant blog for today.
My eyes are starting to burn. Oh how I remember the days of staying up past midnight....

Now you owe me one,

-KL

Dance Anthem of the 80's

Whoever owned my history book before me reads a lot like I do...





Except I prefer orange highlighter.
-KL

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

I've Always Been the Easy Kill

Dear Hollywood,

This would be more along the lines of appropriate and appreciated:



Thanks again,

-KL

Dreams. I Have Dreams.

Dear Hollywood,

Why do you insist on raping my favorite books?
Yes, yes, I understand that many books would take longer than a two-hour American attention-span would be able to handle. I understand that certain elements of stories may be too graphic for cinema (especially if you need a particular rating in order to get some people to come). I understand that you have a right to "creative interpretations". However, I resent the fact that you leave out huge plot elements and that you twist the characters whom I love to fit your quick and emotionally extorted script. I resent the fact that you take the simple word "based" to an extreme.

What am I to do? Should I just not read books anymore for fear of them becoming movies with enticing minute and half trailers that get me to say, "Oh, I loved that book, this teaser looks awesome, let me go pay 8 bucks to see it so I can relive the cherished pages I spent so long pouring over".

Honestly, I don't read all that much to begin with. I wish that were otherwise, but it's not. So please don't force me to stop reading by making flawed motion-pictures of them. I'll even do you one better; how about we just keep the literary world and the film industry separate? How would that suit you? Yeah, you may lose some money and some avid (and later disappointed) readers, but we both know you're bigger than that. C'mon, be a good sport about it. Let's just leave books to BBC produced mini-series. We'll all be winners! And after all, that's what 82.4% of your "lessons learned" films are about. Let's take a page from your own book and stick to that.

I'm glad we could have this experience so that we could both learn and grow. I think by following the suggestions I've made you will have a better success rate at pleasing fans. Just so we're clear, please stick to movies about blue aliens and super heroes (comics don't really count as books, so go for it!). And please get Diablo back on track. And if you must bend the rules, at least get someone who makes the movie better than the book. coughAdamShankmancough

Cordially yours,

-KL

p.s. Ms. Sarandon did earn you a few points. ;)

Give Me the Key

No Regrets Not This Time

Say "Thank you".

To the mailman
To the volunteers
To the person who makes your coffee or hands you your cheeseburger

To your mentors
To your parents
To the people who have made a difference not only in your life, but in the world.

Two words
They're not that difficult
Though sometimes they stick in my mouth
I've decided to wield their power
So that they will not only change the person I am saying them to, but that they may change me as well.

Often it's the simple things we forget and the simple things that turn a day around.
In our crazy, busy world, it's so easy to get burned out. Recognition of a job well done or appreciation is necessary to keep us vibrant, to extend the wick, to show that we really do matter, what we do is not going unnoticed.

I've written this blog about five different ways in my head within the past hour and a half. This is how it stays, because at the core, this is what I mean.

Thank you.

Runs Deeper Than My Bones

Today, Ben is 18.
So weird.

I remember being young (not that I'm not still on the youngish end of life) and thinking that 18 or even 20 is sooooo incredibly old. I remember not even being able to imagine being that old. It was out of the grasp of my naive mind.
Now this isn't to say that I don't feel the same about oh, let's say, being 40 or 50 right now. Whew, OLD. Kidding. Mostly.

On Monday, Sara asked if she could come over 10 or so minutes before Ben got home so she could talk to me. I thought, "Oh no! They're gonna break up, she's coming over to tell me in advance!" Then I was like, "Psh. Why would she talk to me about that! You crazy, KL."
I'm glad I can argue logically with myself. Turns out point two holds the most water.
She just wanted to ask if it was ok for her to come over at 6:30 this morning in order to surprise him. Being that they're both uber busy, it turns out this was the only time they would get to see each other.
When she arrived this morning, Ben was in the shower. He figured out pretty quick that Sara was here when Dad started saying "Sara" really loud. It worked out well though as he only spent about one minute in the bathroom as opposed to his usual 10 or 15 minute post-shower "steam baths" (I don't know (whoever said girls spend more time in front of the mirror than boys did not live in a household like mine)). Sara was waiting for Ben down in his room and he followed wrapped in a towel. I shrugged my shoulders and said, "Well they're both 18 now."
Dad added, "And it's more than the speedo he normally swims in."
Ah, mental imagery.
Ben was quick to tell the both of us he was wearing boxers underneath the towel. How great for you.
He got some presents, drank some of the nastiness-in-a-cup that he calls coffee, then I left for work (to drink REAL coffee like a pro).
He's got swim team tonight. He swims a lot. Like, more than any sane person.
And I have Refinery.
So we probably won't see each other much, if at all, til late.

I'm glad he's my brother.
I couldn't really ask for a better one.
I wouldn't anyways.
I'm thankful for the 18 years we've had together and hope for many more to come.

I also want to wish a happy 20th to CBF! We'll celebrate it someday.

To all the babies born today: I wish you all the best.
-KL

Sell this House and Find

Two perspectives collide.
Cataclysm.
Is this the way all things are?
When forces meet, do they have to be so destructive?
Or is it that the unstoppable force is meeting the immovable object?
Sometimes the place we are makes me want to laugh til I cry.
Others, just cry.
I hear you talk and I roll my eyes.
Even though you can't see me, I roll my eyes.
Do you realize how ridiculous you are?
Or maybe I'm the crazy one.
Perhaps apathy has got the best of me.

And the fun just keeps on leaving. :)

Mark My Words: I Might Be Something Someday

Goodbye 2009.
Hello 2010.

Dear 2009,
You were pretty swell. You went a bit fast, but we had some good times.
I got my first real job. It's awesome, most of the time.
I traveled to three different countries, two of them (Albania and England for a bit) on my 5th(?) mission trip. Canada was a blast and I am so very thankful for the people that went with me and the experiences we had, even sleeping in a baseball dugout. That trip freed me in quite a few ways.
I learned more about Russian history than I will ever want to know. Though I will be learning even more this year (can't wait).
Sounds kinda sad, but after two years at WSU TC, I made a friend that I actually do stuff with outside of school. Now we can learn about/be tortured by Russia together!
I was on the APNC at West Side (something anyone reading my blog even pseudo-regularly would know about).
I finally moved back into the real house.
Just kidding, it's still not done.
I had a kick-ass New Year's Eve.
I think that's about the gist of you.

So thanks for being a smokin' fine year,
-KL

Dear 2010,

I am looking forward to you. We had a shaky start with food poisoning, but I think we can make up for that.
I think some big things will be taking place on your watch. I'm already looking forward to the high school retreat in about 3 weeks. There's also the high probability of an extended "hiatus" from youth worship team. I'm quite relieved for that to occur as well. And April. Sweet, glorious April. Why can't you be here sooner?
Anyways, I hope we work out quite splendidly. I'm pretty sure we will. I guess that's it for now, I'm sure we'll see each other around. I look forward to it!

To 363 more days of unicorns, chap stick, and clean socks;
-KL

Hope all four of you reading this have a fantastic year to come as well! If not, I might be able to get you 2010's address and you can go have a word with it--crowbars are pretty effective as well.