Rooted on the Brink

This is me, being 28.

Oh hi, wee hours of the morning. 

It is with great aplomb that I say—look at that! I've finally conquered the fear of selfies! So many selfies.

I'd like to thank Snapchat and the discovery of working my angles for this momentous achievement.
Also no, you can't follow me on Snapchat.

I let myself wake up at 5:20 this morning, a strange rush of sleeping-in rebellion that tasted so sweet. Here's the first song of my 28th year, listened to while I savored the rebellion aftertaste (as rebellious as a responsible working adult/mother can get):



Chased by this, and this, and this. And then a little taste of this and this in the evening. It's been a good music day.

Keeping with the tradition of eating delicious breads for breakfast on my birthday, I sauntered in to work with a warmed croissant from Starbucks. There, I enjoyed a full day of endless Diet Coke, courtesy of the best co-workers I could ask for.

After a day of caffeinated tribute from my colleagues/students, I returned home to a thoughtful, inspiring gift from my husband. I walked in the sunshine with my daughter. I ate steak and ice cream and chatted with those dearest to me. Did I have a great birthday?

It was the best.

It was the best, and yet nothing too out of the ordinary happened. I hope this is a sign of that age, how perfectly content I am with the small beauties in life.

Like my obsession with the sky. Sky in the morning of my birthday (left), sky in the evening (right).

Oh man. 28. Can you believe I'm that young? Didn't 28 happen, oh, five years ago or so?

No. Not for me. Five years ago is when my husband turned 28, a thought that fascinates me. For him, 28 marked the cusp of life. He was on the edge—the edge of marriage, the edge of leaving Utah, the edge of further education and career. For me, 28 is old and stodgy and pretty well progressed in the world.

I love it. Here, at the end of my 27th year, I treasure my capability. It's amazing to feel like I actually can do anything. And I'm not talking about "I'm a starry-eyed college student and the world is the limit I'm going to revolutionize the whole country!" sort of anything. I mean that I know how to work, how to talk to people, how I can realistically achieve goals. It's an eerie sense that anything I want to do, I can do. Yes, there's prioritizing, and working, but everything is feasible, plannable, possible. What strange and heady power.

In my career, I'm perfectly capable. Sure, there are things that I want to improve at, but I've mostly moved past the desperate fumblings of a total beginner. In my marriage, I'm totally capable. Taylor and I have figured out how to communicate, serve, and work together. In my writing, as much as I wish I did more, I feel like I can draft and edit and revise and have a firm, strictly "Cat" voice. I'm so capable, I managed to create a human life.

Which is the most awe-inspiring part of this year. Childbirth and motherhood terrified me, seemed like the most arduous task one could ever undertake. And I did it. I know how lucky I was. How lucky I was that pregnancy did not bother me at the time, and quickly became a new standard of normal. How lucky I was in delivery, so lucky my doctor told me not to speak of it for fear of giving unrealistic expectations. But the luckiest of all is Alex herself. I pictured motherhood as pain and sacrifice, late nights and ear infections. gritting as my soul was stretched tight by endless screaming.

How could I have know the joy? And it's very influenced by the fact that Alex has been so lovely, so patient, so endlessly full of happiness and smiles. There is sacrifice, but it's the kind of sacrifice Taylor and myself needed and are able to handle, the kind that has made us perfectly grow as people. Our family and home are exponentially sweeter. Alex has brought a completion I couldn't have understood.*

Probably my favorite picture of me ever.

Through motherhood, and each minute choice that comes within that minefield, I know I can. I can accomplish anything. I can trust my instincts. I can make choices, and those choices are correct.

And now, as I face down 28, I hope to channel that capability. I've become as settled and established as I wished to be. Now, it's time to push for more. In 28, I'm going to search. I'm going to reach. I will take this newfound capability and create something spectacular.

After all, I'm standing on the brink of sabotage. There's bound to be some explosions.

It's going to be a great year.

27. 26. 25.

*Which is the most cliched thing I've ever heard, but for us it is true. Note: for us. Not everyone needs an Alex to get to that point. She is what I needed to become softer and more compassionate. She is what Taylor needed to become more service-oriented. Alex forced us to grow in ways we didn't know were necessary before, and which I'm glad we experienced, but I don't think that parenthood is the only way to develop in that manner.

Truth Lies Low

"If I don't do it, it's just more work for someone else. So it's like, well, I have no other option. Why should I even talk to her? It won't change anything. It will just cause this... friction. So I just need to do it."

It's been quite the couple of years, hasn't it, church? I have not had the happiest time being a Mormon. First there was the women thing, and the excommunication stuff, and then (oh, and then) the big policy reveal. And my heart ached, and I cried, and I stayed and stayed and stayed.

And I'm still staying, just to get that out of the way. No danger of abandonment yet.

Lately the struggle hasn't been the anger or the hurt, or the beautiful wrestling before God. Lately, I've been struggling with the nothing.

No emotion. No connection. No spirituality.

It's been consumed with the never-ending motions of the every day: the go-go-go to work, the go-go-go to spend time with my daughter, the go-go-go- to do housework and cook meals and lesson plan and get sleep so I can function. And oh yes, the barest of go-go-go to fulfill my church calling. The barest, and yet it's enough to make me dread those three hours every Sunday.

I'm in the Primary Presidency, and I spend the first hour stewing over sharing times and other undone administrative tasks, simmering in all my inadequacies. I spend sacrament meeting, that one hour where I could learn of God, consumed by the things I have to do and have not done. I spend the following two hours doing those things, those teaching and organization tasks that are so close to what I do during the week, but worse because it's with small children. I go home exhausted, wondering when restoration will come.

Where is space for the divine? If I don't get to recharge at church, how can I find space to do it myself?

I whine about the culture of the church a lot. My struggle with the Utah ideals I grew up with dominates my therapy sessions. A huge target of disgust is the idea of sanctification through suffering—how the more we sacrifice in silence, the better a person we are. It's pervasive. Good Mormons sit in silence and suffer through. We put our shoulder to the wheel.

But what if the wheel crushes us?

I talked to my therapist about what I can do with my calling. It seemed an impossible situation. I am called, and so I have to do it. What other option is there? Besides, the primary president has done so much for me, and I don't want to seem ungrateful.

In the middle of listing all the things the president has done for me, and the little I've done in return, my therapist said, "If she didn't want to do those things, she'd say so. That's what people do—they share emotions, they let you know if something's unpleasant or part of a bargain."

"Not where I grew up," I said. Cue lightning bolt.

Oh. I grew up seeing people, particularly women, serve and give of themselves far past the point of enjoyment, and often to the point of silent resentment. Usually that resentment would bubble up, siphon itself out on people. People, but never the person responsible. There wasn't direct conversation. There were clouds of anger, falsity, and a pervasive air of distrust. People wallowed in insincerity because everything was an angry, holy sacrifice. We were the sacred martyrs. Our suffering brings us close to God, even if we sink into personal despair.

And there I was, expecting the same from myself.

I don't have issues setting boundaries and expectations in any other setting. But church? Boundaries shouldn't exist. And although I give good lip service to defying that culture, I find it's unexpectedly buried deep. It's tightly woven into the fiber of my being.

Driving away from therapy, full of solutions and new resolve to be the change I want to see in the church, Andrew Bird's Are You Serious? played on my stereo.* The song "Truth Lies Low" began, and Bird's mellow voice resonated:

Here's a little game, you can play along

Oh you do the walk of shame

From the comfort of your home.

So here's another game, you can play along,

Where you empty all your blame

From your guilty bones.**

Album version here for better sound quality and less song-building.

I don't have to sacrifice. It's not worth my happiness, my sanity, my testimony. Yes, I can do it for now, but it's OK to say I can't do it forever. And it's OK to let people know I'm not happy—if I don't tell them, how will they know?

It's OK.

I don't have to walk in shame. There's nothing redeemable about guilt,

*Side note: this album is FANTASTIC. It's his latest, and finally managed to convert my husband to Andrew Bird. Listening to "Valleys of the Young" as new parents was a mind-altering experience.

**I can acknowledge that Bird probably did not mean to write about people tortuing themselves with guilt and self-loathing (especially considering the last verse referencing what sound like trolls), but that's the beauty of lyrics--it just takes one line at one moment to become part of a person's unique experience forever.

2014: A Terrible Year! Thanks for being a part of it!

At approximately 8:30 p.m. on Dec. 31, 2014, I came down with a head cold.

The next week various shades of radioactive yellow oozed from my face.  I like to think it was the last remaining toxins of 2014 eliminating themselves from my body, shedding the curse of that godforsaken year in an incredibly visceral sense.

Oh 2014, Auld Lang Syne and good riddance.

New Year's Eve 2014 was clear and bright.  Taylor and I drove around the capitol building in Salt Lake City, taking in the passage of time with the high point and spectacular views.  I might have been foggy thanks to the new head cold, but it was nice to welcome a new year from a high point, looking out over possibilities.

New Year's Eve 2013 was spent in a basement in DC.  It was a fun time, but I started 2014 from a dark hole in the ground and I don't think I ever left.

2014 is the year that broke me into pieces.  The difficulties started in fall of 2013, when I moved to Boston and started grad school and everything in life was thrown into question.  What was I doing?  Why was I here?  What am I doing to my family?  Those worries eventually abated, replaced with a comfort in my surroundings and a sense of purpose in my studies. But they still gave way to a deep, dark depression.

I wrote about my sadness before, but it lasted so much longer.  It marked the year with a pall, a listlessness and sorrow I could not shake.  This year, my depression caused me to:

• Wake up every morning dreading the day.  This was partially because I was an idiot at one point and had three jobs along with full-time school schedule.  Constant heart palpitations at the thought of my "to do" list, I swear.
• Meddle with my hair, just so I could control something in my life.  This year, I went from long red hair, to short red hair, to short blue-green hair (that promptly faded to gray), back to red, culminating in an undercut mohawk—shaved sides and back, long on top.  Reverse mullet, if you will.  

• Come home from days of doing the bare minimum for survival and sit on the couch, staring straight ahead.  I couldn't even watch TV or movies.  The thought of any action made me want to cry.  Speaking of which...
• Sit by the T station and cry.  I so wish this was a one time thing, but no.  This happened multiple times.  Sometimes it was because I was coming back from a defeating day of school/work.  Sometimes it was because I felt lost and lonely.  Sometimes it was because I was on my way to interact with others socially, something I knew I needed but which terrified me.  Definite moments of huge anxiety and self-loathing there.  And sometimes it was just because it was cold.  Sweet mercy, it got so cold in Boston.
• Curl up in my closet and cry.  Because it was a dark, cramped space.  Just like my psyche.  Just like my soul.
• Dramatically take long walks outside, crying.  Sometimes I'd get too overwhelmed while walking, and I'd sit on the nearest curb and sob.  Those poor, rich suburbanites in my neighborhood, forced to endure the sight of a 25-year-old urchin weeping outside their houses.  I'm sure I totally ruined the view.
• There was a lot of crying, OK? 

Despite the oppressive cloud that marked my 2014, this year was full of beauty.  There was good adventure, good food, and good company.  My goal in moving to Boston, in participating in this crazy grad program, was to suck the marrow out of life.  To completely drain everything I could from school and East Coast living.  I think I succeeded in that goal, because in 2014, I:

• Traveled.  January I drove home from D.C., stopping to visit Baltimore (Poe's grave!) and Philadelphia (Independence Hall!).  In March I spent a blissful week in D.C. with my favoritest Ashley.  Taylor and I celebrated our second anniversary with lobster rolls in Portland, ME.  We went to the Hill Cumorah pageant in upstate New York, an event I fell asleep ten minutes into, and woke up right as people were taking their bows.* My brother got married in October, so I was able to return to the Utah mountains for a bit.  I watched two friends get married in New Jersey.  I witnessed the opulence of titans in Newport, Rhode Island. I spent a ton of time in New York City: a May getaway with the Cowan women, a July move-in with newly-minted East Coaster Mary, BFFF weekend in October, Thanksgiving and assorted visits with the NYC McCarreys. I went from hating New York City to appreciating it, and I actually will miss being so close.  The street art, the constant clash of culture, those tasty Prosperity Dumplings.  I couldn't live there, but I'm back to loving a visit now and then. And there was that whole cross country drive back to Seattle, where I hit Virgina, Tennessee, Arkansas, Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico, Utah, etc., etc.

The cutting table at Coolidge.

• Got to hang out in the projection booth at Coolidge Corner Theatre, and even climbed on the outside of the building to reach the upper booth.  This was all done for a piece on film projection versus digital.  It was the first story I actually enjoyed working on, and inspiration from that experience fueled me through another nine months of school.
• Won my Oscars pool, beating Taylor by one category.
• Spent a party sitting on a piano bench with Amy O'Leary, plucking out Beatles tunes and singing to those basic chords.
• Ate falafel.  And cannoli.  And bagels.  And a cronut.  And ramen.  And nachos.  And far too much McDonalds (their baby cheeseburger are delicious, and everyone knows that nothing beats a McFlurry).  And tacos in a vampire dungeon that offered pop rock cotton candy with the check.
• Made challah.
• Communed with my spirit sister, Isabella Stewart Gardner, at her wonderful museum.  
• Said goodbye to my first car, and to my treasured Seve vs. Evan sticker on it's back window.
• Watched fireworks over the Charles River and listened to Keith Lockhart conduct the Boston Pops. Subsequently got caught in a wall of water while masses fled from the rainstorm that directly followed the firework display.
• Hiked the "mountains" in New Hampshire.  I mean, they were cute and all, but mountains?  Kind of a stretch.
• Taught journalism to a bunch of high schoolers, and remembered how much I enjoy teaching.  Even when the kids are little turds, as they always are.  This also helped me find an ideal schedule of morning teaching, afternoon writing/adventure.  
• Kayaked down the Charles River.
• Went to two killer concerts. Kishi Bashi, who put on a high energy show full of dancing and awesomeness.  And Queens of the Stone Age, where I was about ten feet away from Josh Homme and I died and fainted and head-banged to my little heart's content.
• Wrote film reviews for the Daily Free Press.  This was the best job I've ever had, and the only one that never bored me.
• Spent a week as a beach bum.  I didn't really understand the appeal of New England until I sat in the softest sand near warm blue water.

Wingaersheek Beach

• Had some lovely visitors (Lauren! Leo! Shannon and Lori!) and spent time with lovely locals.  The friend scene in Boston was a slow boil.  My first few months were lonely.  By the end I had a whole slew of people that I cherish, and who I severely miss.  You can say a lot of things about Boston, but you can't say that there's a dearth of interesting people.  Those I were lucky enough to associate with differed in age, vocation, interests, but they were all absolutely scintillating.  I was constantly learning new things, and I'm grateful for the tribe I found.

2014 was a year of growth.  And with all growing pains, it stretched me in uncomfortable ways, ways that made me weep at the sudden spurts of advancement forced on me.  I was dragged into a sense of self, and came out the other side sadder, wiser, and a whole lot more sure of myself.  This is the year I decided I don't care what other people think.  It's the year I learned what I want.  It's the year I pushed myself to my limits, striving for the best writing and work I could offer.

I hope that 2015 is the year of settling.  

Settling has such negative connotation.  You settled for a significant other that didn't challenge you.  You settle for the job that sounds easier.  To be settled is to be set in ways, to be boring.  To be settled is to lose momentum and sink into the earth.

But for this moment in life, nothing sounds more appealing than being settled.  Taylor and I just moved to Seattle, a place and community that's comfortable and familiar and full of potential longevity.  I want to find a job that lasts more than a year, where I can join a united force working towards a greater goal.  I want unpack my books and scatter them around an apartment, somewhere they can nestle into, where dust has time to gather on their spines.  I want furniture that sits long enough to leave divots in the carpet.  I want to befriend others without a ticking clock on our association.  I want to plant my feet into the ground and sprout roots, to start building something that can last.

I want to wriggle around in 2015, to become entrenched in the life of Cat McCarrey.  I'm OK with settling in for a while.  It's time for me to breath.  To stand straighter.  To see what life looks like beyond the grad school blinders, and what those new skills will create.

* I highly recommend that viewing experience—it's really the only way to see something as cringeworthy as the Hill Cumorah pageant.  

Quarter of a Century Man*

I am, I am.

This is me, being 25.

At 25, I woke up early.  At 6:30 AM, when I was technically still 24, with only a few precious minutes before entering the 25th anniversary of my time here on earth.  Sun squirmed its way between a gap in the window and the Batman blanket I've been using as a heavy duty curtain, touching my face with the illusion of a warm day.  For a moment I was still, nestled in bed and squinting at a mix of sky and branches and houses.

At 25, I decided to treat myself to a bagel for breakfast.  Apparently, food is just as important to me as when I was 24, or 16, or 5.  Indeed, the desire and appreciation for food runs much of my daily life.  At 25, there is rarely a moment when I don't have a niggling yen for one (or both) of two things: guacamole, with the rich avocado punctuated with sharp garlic and juicy ripe tomatoes; or the Lucknow Special from Pronti Bistro.  Chunks of lamb with mushroom and feta, slathered in tamarind and mint yogurt sauce, gently couched in warm flatbread.  It's the type of meal that makes the entire world OK, opening windows of peace and harmony and happiness (only to prompt feelings of crushing loss when it is eaten and gone).

At 25, I carefully selected the first song of my new year.  I was torn between old favorites, songs that dominated this past year, or something peppy and delightful.  I ended up with "The Wind" by Cat Stevens.  A perfect choice.



At 25, I'm coming out of a season of penetrating sadness.  But the weather is slowly warming, and is nursing my heart along with it.  One thing people don't tell you when you finally chase your dreams is that the chasing action does not instantaneously eradicate all the fears and insecurities that kept you from the dream in the first place.  Oh, it can assuage them for a bit.  For a time, your confidence will be boosted by the pure adrenaline rush of finally doing it.  And then the novelty wears off and you are left with a dream that has become mundane reality, but with an added pressure layer of hopes and expectations crusting the top of it.  And wrestling with a dream made actual can leave you staring at the void, feet dangling off the edge of the cliff as you grasp for a trail.  For somewhere safe and sure to place your footfalls.  And sometimes, you'll have to off-road it for a while, forging your own path until a trail is made.  And it's difficult.  But somehow it can be done.  Or so I repeat to myself in the malaise-worthy mornings and headache-inducing nights.

At 25, I'm hopeful.  Hopeful that the best is still ahead.  That there's a bright, comfortable future in front of me, full of books and armchairs and sunlight.  The meals will be catered and the television will always be set to the best channels (what CBS? No such thing).  There will be rooms and people and a home full of light.  There will be deeply satisfying work, and even more deeply satisfying love.  This is the richness I see for myself, and as for 25?  It's just the beginning.

*That phrase always makes me think of How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying.  Specifically, the scene before this song.  I tried to find the actual point where Mr. Twimble discusses his 25-year status in the company, but alas it is not to be.  Yes, we have a grand overarching technological network that spies on us and has billions of cat videos, but it can't be bothered to include a thirty second clip of a Pulitzer prize-winning production.  This is the world we live in.

Conceived by Mommybloggers

This is a quick check-in, to make sure that this still works.  And also because I'm having thoughts, and it's either a really long Facebook statues (UGH) or a blog, and this setting works much better.

I have a ton of big projects and articles coming up and, as I always do in times of stress, I've been procrastinating by obsessively reading blogs that I would normally never read.  Like, Stay At Home Mommy blogs.  Blogs of women who have nothing in common with me, and whose opinions and views I do not always agree with.  I mean, I cherish motherhood.  The thought of having a child of my own is slowly becoming a reality to me, and it's a notion that does not fill my soul with dread.  In fact, it's generally a quite nice notion, as babies have suddenly started looking soft and squishy and good-smelling.  (Sidenote- IknowIknow, that's not all the time, but don't burst my bubble now!  I worked so hard for that illusion).

But.  Back to the point.

Which is--I have an awfully good life.  I'm living the relatively low-stakes life of a student.  I'm doing that and making (a very, very little) money, working at jobs that I love and which are opening all kinds of avenues for me.  Seriously.  Check out the people I'm working for and things I'm working on.  And on top of all that, I get to write non-stop, I get to interview people on things I'm passionate about, I get to manipulate words and come to comfortable terms with my writing voice, and I get to come home to a small suburban apartment and a husband who's kicking trash and taking names as a family therapist.  That in itself is pretty dang cool.

So even though my heart still yearns for West Coast life, I've managed to find some good people, and more importantly, some good food. I consider myself awfully lucky that I get to stretch my writing muscles, and that I have this blessedly uninterrupted time to develop my talents and make them work for me.  I've only been here for roughly six months, and my Seattle self is already a distant memory.  Let's not even discuss my Provo self ( who? what? selfish/insecure/lazy-much?).  I'm proud of the person this place has made me.  I'm proud of the family Taylor and I have created.   I'm proud of my university, and how ridiculously supportive and wonderful it is. And I'm proud that I can say that we did it, that we are here and living in the city of our dreams.

This is all to say--I'm doing just fine.  I realized my good fortune.  And sometimes, that's a needed realization.

Now back to writing.  I have two articles due in the next sixteen hours.  It's all just part of the adventure.

Right.  Write.  I'm on it.

Return and Report

Part the First: Reflection

Well, 2013 has been a crap-bucket of a year.

Or so I thought when I initially sat down to write this, my yearly recap.*

Then I realized how much the extreme, soul-crushing suckitude of the past four months has colored my views.  Just because the latter third of the year drained me of all optimism and hope doesn't mean that good ol' 2013 has been a total wash.  In fact, it was a magical year in many ways.

Because this

In 2012, I fell in love with Seattle.  In 2013, Seattle became my home—a sad fact I didn't fully understand until I left it behind for the rocky coldness of the East Coast.  Somewhere along the road, despite the gray skies and the truly horrific traffic, Seattle snuck into my heart and settled down.  It packed up Thai food, Alki beach, the lighthouse at Discovery Park, the house in Queen Anne, the apartment by Silver Platters, the car full of educators starting and stopping down the 90 blasting music along the way.  It smuggled in memories of barbecues on the patio, where my fingers picked charred lamb off the cutting board, where I drank ginger beer and feasted on the best damn guacamole I've ever had.  Thoughts of Menchie's runs and reading on sunny days by Green Lake.  The sunsets—sweet mercy, the sunsets!—viewed from rocky beaches or Pike Place or the top of Cougar Mountain as I finished work and headed out to carpool.

Gorgeous view above the clouds

One of the best parts of having a place you love is sharing it with others, and Taylor and I got to share Seattle with many people this year (Paige, Ryan, James, Jihad, Sarah, Leo, my parents, Lauren).  We had the tour down pat—dinner at Orrapin on Queen Anne or Bengal Tiger down the street from our apartment.  Desserts from Menchie's, Trophy Cupcakes, Top Pot, or one of the many, many incredible bakeries.  One day had to be spent at Pike Place, going to Golden Age Collectables and wandering through secondhand bookstores.  Stopping for soda at the Pear Delicatessen.  If the lines weren't too long, maybe grabbing some Piroshky Piroshky pastries,  Beecher's mac 'n cheese, or the meatball sub at the Pasta Bar (a personal favorite).  Sometimes I would take people to wander around Capitol Hill, stepping into Eliott Bay Book Company or any of the shops on Broadway.  Often, I'd talk someone into visiting my happy place at the EMP and then checking out Seattle Center.  At some point, Taylor would take visitors on a driving loop on Queen Anne, where we'd point out sites from Seattle history and our own personal backstories.

Basically, the first two-thirds of this year were spent soaking up Seattle.  Taylor worked hard to finish school, graduating with his Masters.  I worked hard to save up money for the move to Boston, and despite some bratty kids I mostly enjoyed teaching history and journalism and mythology, going on some great field trips (NCI!) and interacting with six-year-olds for the first time at summer camp.

The North Cascades

That was before we packed up everything and headed out to Boston.  The road trip back was amazing.  In Montana I finally learned the truth of the phrase "purple mountain majesty."  I felt a sacred peace in the Black Hills of South Dakota.  I drove through the Badlands in a lightening storm and was completely alive.  Taylor and I braved the staid cornfields of Iowa to visit Scholte, and in Chicago we met with rain and blues and Gary and Giordano's.  We cozied up in an Eerie bed and breakfast, feeling nervous about the move for the first time and trying desperately to lose ourselves in the beauty of a small town.

And then came Boston.  And grad school.  While we've enjoyed exploring this city, exploring revolutionary history and cemeteries packed with my literary heroes, and while I have loved going to classes and constantly writing and the people I've met through articles and stories, I can't quite talk about Boston without bitterness in my voice.  Because I miss the happiness I left behind.

But that's OK.  Because now, on to 2014.  The year of endurance.

This is the year I put my head down and work.  Where I take Boston and feast on all it offers me.  And then next year, once I have sucked out all the education and experiences possible, I can leave this withered husk behind me and move on to real life.

*Previous recaps: 2012, 2011, 2010

Part the Second: Reporting

Last year, I set a few goals.  Here's how they went.

1. Get published.

Well, not so much.  Not officially.  BUT!  This year I started the television review site Lightbox Heroes with dear friends Mary and Rosemary.  It has been the single most beneficial thing I could have done for my writing, and it is several steps closer to what I want to be doing.  I feel pretty good about this one.

2. Get into grad school.

Done.  Masters of Journalism at Boston University, scheduled to be finished January 2015.

3. Stop eating food in the faculty room.

Ha. That's cute.

4. Keep track of the media I consumed.  Consume more media.

Done and done, and reported below.  While I don't know for certain that I consumed more media than last year, it certainly felt like I did.  And I was much more conscious of actively working to watch more movies and read more books.

One huge milestone I overcame was being comfortable with mass media consumption.  For many people, these types of activities are methods for release or ways to laze about, and so I would always be self-conscious about how frequently I would partake in these activities.  But considering that this is what I want to do—write about pop culture—this is precisely what I should be doing with my time.  So this year was a time for throwing off the shackles of what other people thought and growing my portfolio of expertise.  Making up for lost time, if you will.

5. Write reviews for every book I read.

Another negative.  But I recorded all the books I read, and I am working on slowly making up for lost time.  Writing for Lightbox Heroes showed me how easy it can be to write reviews, I just have to do them immediately and not let them pile up.  So with that in mind, I should be much more reliable this year.

Now without further ado, the media stats. 

MOVIES

-Jurassic Park                                                          -Justice League: Doom

-Spiderman                                                              -The Untouchables

-Django Unchained                                                  -The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey

-Inglourious Basterds                                                -Escape From Alcatraz

-Two Mules for Sister Sara                                       -Pale Rider

-National Geographic Explorer: 25 Years                    -The Fountain

-Good Will Hunting                                                   -Naked Gun 2 1/2 

-Objectified                                                              -T2

-Serenity                                                                  -Safety Not Guaranteed

-Raising Arizona                                                       -Last of the Mohicans

-The Departed                                                          -The Godfather 2

-Side by Side                                                            -Batman Beyond: The Return of the Joker

-Capote                                                                    -Into the Wild

-Note by Note: The Making of Steinway L1037          -Zero Dark Thirty

-Reality Bites                                                            -Once

-NFFTY Opening Night                                            -Slacker

-Legends of the Fall                                                  -V for Vendetta

-Ironman 3                                                               -The Great Gatsby

-Watchmen                                                               -Bachelorette

-Willow                                                                    -Reservoir Dogs

-Akira                                                                      -Psycho

-The Town                                                                -Snatch

-Mystery Men                                                           -The Iceman Tapes

-Clerks                                                                     -Training Day

-Ronin                                                                       -Ninja Scroll

-Pitch Perfect                                                            -13 Assassins

-James and the Giant Peach                                       -Let it Be

-The Bling Ring                                                         -Chinatown

-Paranorman                                                             -Tucker and Dale vs. Evil

-Chasing Amy                                                           -Oldboy

-Pacific Rim                                                              -Butter

-Goldfinger                                                                -Johnny Carson: King of Late Night

-The Way Way Back                                                 -Cloud Atlas

-The Breakfast Club                                                   -Shaolin Soccer

-Rifftrax: Titanic                                                         -Wristcutters

-Hang 'Em High                                                          -SLC Punk

-Paranoid: Black Sabbath                                            -Rifftrax: Starship Troopers

-The World's End                                                       -The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

-Hero                                                                         -The Elephant Man

-Dr. Strangelove                                                         -East of Eden

-Who Framed Roger Rabbit                                         -The Other F Word

-Before Sunrise                                                           -Before Sunset

-In a World                                                                 -Tombstone

-My Kid Could Paint That                                           -Escape From Tomorrow

-Hocus Pocus                                                             -Boondock Saints

-Dances With Wolves                                                 -Muscle Shoals

-Shattered Glass                                                         -Baraka

-Hitchcock                                                                 -Se7en

-Inside Llewyn Davis                                                  -Absence of Malice

-No Country for Old Men                                           -Night of the Living Dead

-Rifftrax: Santa Claus Conquers the Martians               -Star Trek: First Contact

-The Master                                                              -Justice League: Flashpoint Paradox

-A Brady Bunch Movie                                              -White House Down

-The Patriot                                                               -Fargo

-Brave                                                                       -Brick

TOTAL: 110

Favorite Discoveries: The Fountain. The Departed. Snatch. Paranorman. The World's End. The Elephant Man. Dr. Strangelove.

Most Uncomfortable Movies: Oldboy. The Master. Bachelorette. Escape from Tomorrow.

Movies That Made Me Angry: Watchmen. Pacific Rim.

Movies Whose Popularity Flummoxed Me: Ronin. The Boondock Saints.

Movies That Were An Unexpected Delight: 13 Assassins. White House Down. Justice League: Flashpoint Paradox.

Clint Eastwood Movies: Escape From Alcatraz. Pale Rider. Two Mules for Sister Sara. The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. Hang 'Em High.

BOOKS

-Moon Over Manifest                                               -Y the Last Man: Girl on Girl
-Y the Last Man: Paper Dolls                                    -Y the Last Man: Kimono Dragons
-Y the Last Man: Motherland                                    -Y the Last Man: Whys and Wherefores
-Perks of Being a Wallflower                                     -That Summer
-Confessions of a Serial Kisser                                   -The Running Diaries
-Sammy Keyes and the Dead Giveaway                     -Chew: Flambe
-Astonishing X-men: Dangerous                                 -Serenity: The Shepherd's Tale
-I,Q: Independence Hall                                            -One Crazy Summer
-Watchmen                                                               -Anna Karenina
-The Road                                                                -A Gathering of Days
-The Paris Wife                                                        -A Girl of the Limberlost
-Think Tank, Vol. 1                                                  -Good Omens
-Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore                         -Habibi
-Me, the Missing, and the Dead                                 -Court of Owls
-East of Eden                                                            -1602
-Cloud Atlas                                                             -Island in the Sea of Time
-Covering America                                                    -American Vampire, Vol. 5
-Gods Like Us                                                          -Z: a novel of Zelda Fitzgerald
-Attachments                                                            -Eleanor and Park
-Black Hole                                                              -Wanted
-Relish                                                                      -Court of Owls (2nd time)
-The Game of Thrones                                              -The Black Mirror
-A Clash of Kings                                                      -Ex Machina: the First Hundred Days
-Ex Machina: Tag                                                      -Ex Machina: Fact v. Fiction
-Ex Machina: March to War                                       -Ex Machina: Smoke Smoke
-Ex Machina: Power Down                                        -All-Star Superman
-Joker: Death in the Family                                        -A Storm of Swords
-Hawkeye 1                                                               -Fangirl
-Such a Pretty Fat                                                      -The Elements of Journalism

TOTAL: 58

New Favorite Books: Perks of Being a Wallflower.  Anna Karenina.  East of Eden.

What I'd Recommend: The Paris Wife.  Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore.  Attachments.  Good Omens.  The Y the Last Man series.  Relish.

Favorite Discovery: Rainbow Rowell, the author of Attachments, Eleanor and Park, and Fangirl.

Biggest Surprise: How addicting the Song of Ice and Fire (Game of Thrones) books are.

TELEVISION

Completed series watched in entirety: 

-Bunheads                                                                 -Firefly
-Stephen Fry in America                                             -Terriers
-Breaking Bad                                                            -30 Rock
-Welcome to the Family**

Ongoing series watched faithfully:
-Mad Men                                                                  -Parks and Recreation
-Community                                                              -Nashville
-Sleepy Hollow**                                                        -Brooklyn Nine-Nine**
-The Crazy Ones**                                                     -Dracula**
-The Goldbergs**                                                       -The Millers**
-Reign**                                                                     -Arrested Development

Series with a significant portion of episodes watched:
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer                                           -Friday Night Lights
-Don't Trust the B in Apt. 23                                       -The Carrie Diaries
-The IT Crowd                                                           -It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
-Futurama                                                                   -Saturday Night Live
-The Walking Dead                                                     -Felicity
-How I Met Your Mother                                            -Robot Chicken
-Full Metal Alchemist                                                   -Greg the Bunny
-The Following                                                            -Batman Beyond
-Fringe                                                                        -The Vicar of Dibley
-Gossip Girl                                                                -The Michael J. Fox Show
-Game of Thrones                                                       -Avatar: the Last Airbender

Series with one or two episodes watched:
-Ben and Kate                                                             -Hannibal
-Workaholics                                                               -MythQuest
-The Black Donnelly's                                                  -Orange is the New Black
-Freaks and Geeks                                                       -Boy Meets World
-The Simpsons

**signifies a show watched for Lightbox Heroes 

Trying my Heart Out

Yesterday, the official School Spelling Bee was held in my classroom.  All three participants were there.

Clearly, it was thrilling.

Afterwards, I sat and watched the third place girl with the shiny eyes and the quivering lip. A nine year old at a school desk, body shaking with the pressure of holding back sobs.  Elementary life is awful.  To a child, life is black and white.  How can they understand losing not because they were bad, but just because someone else was better?  To them, it's only interpreted as one thing: ultimate failure.

One co-worker went up to her. Instead of sympathetic hugs and empty words of "you did great!," this teacher offered a firm handshake and some wise words:

If we don't try, then we don't know what we can do.

Never trying is as tempting option. No criticism.  No defeat.  No disappointment.

But there's the other side of the coin. No admiration.  No victory.  No success.

My own decision to try has led me here:

There might be tea in that harbor!*
*note: that is not "Boston Harbor."  There is no tea.  Don't be ridiculous. 

Behold.  As of this August, that dreamscape of history and culture will be my home.  And this lovely institution will be my new alma mater:

Boston University, baby!

It's exhilarating.  It's terrifying.  I'm gearing myself up for the greatest failures, criticisms, and embarrassments I've ever had.    But I'm also ready to work harder, be more passionate, and experience the fruition of my dreams more than I imagined possible.  It's all going to happen.

In preparing for the world of Boston, I've started making a Boston movie playlist, something I can chip away at over the summer months.  It's surprising how many Boston-set movies revolve around crime and despair.  Is there something in the water?  Does the Revolution-inspired air of freedom encourage people to flout societal laws?  I mean, I know that I'm planning on joining the Irish mob and causing some mayhem once I get there, but I didn't think that was the norm.  I just thought Boston was full of preppy Harvard types and tweed-clad intellectuals.

"Happy" Boston Movies

Fever Pitch

Legally Blonde

Ted

"Depressing, Gritty, often Crime-related" Boston Movies

The Departed

The Social Network

The Town

Boondock Saints

Gone Baby Gone

Mystic River

Shutter Island

Does my quest to watch Boston movies mean I'm relegating myself to a summer of drama?  Or are there quality offerings that make the city sparkle?  You know, other than things like 1776, because I seriously cannot handle any more Revolutionary War songs.  Leave our Founding Fathers and their vocal chords alone.

Over the Whelm

While carpooling to work today, I became embroiled in one of those retrospective conversations.  The topic on today's menu?  College.  As my carpooling compatriot and I swapped stories from the underbelly of our undergraduate years, told stories of nightmare professors and all-nighters, something happened.  My heart gained weight, became a grenade with the pin half-pulled, ready to either explode or lie dormant.

I'm pretty sure this image is from Scott Pilgrim's Precious Little Life, the first book in the series.

The wheels are in motion for me to go to grad school.  Applications are in order or almost in order. I've detached from Seattle and allowed myself to experience the sweet taste of wanderlust, my feet and possessions becoming eager to see a new location.  I've made my intentions clear at work, gently side-stepping possible/likely job advancements.  And I'm ready.  I'm ready to push my life further.

But then.  The memories of being a student.  The apathetic lethargy that came with my university experience. The feelings of being drained, being frustrated, being uninspired.  One of the things that encouraged me to return to school was a recent burst of inspiration, a desire to investigate things, to create things.  I'm starting to worry that school will once again sap me of passion.

So yeah.  Tl;dr (which means too long; didn't read for all you non-Reddit initiated folk)(I learned Reddit abbreviations recently and I'm really excited about it, that's all)(no judgement)?  Blah blah blah nervous fear blah.

Luckily I've found solace by looking at pictures of deserts, listening to this ad nauseum, and watching a whole ton of this:

One of THOSE Things

I fought against doing a "year wrap up" post.  And I'm not sure you can call this one, considering that January is halfway over.  But after doing some kind of glance back for the past two years (2010 and 2011), I've decided I like the closure.  I have always enjoyed looking at my yearly progression, and although the urge to look towards the past typically comes to me in the fall, the start of a new year is just too crisp and clear and convenient to resist.

Typically, I hate Christmas and December with the fury of five thousand burning meteors.  Want proof?  Try this article, written for my high school newspaper:

Behold, the cleverness of high school Cat.

That writing is so convincing I almost hate Christmas again.  But not this year!  This year was full of warmth and joy and muppets and happiness and the first real Christmas tree I've had in years.  I even had a nephew in town to help decorate it.  That seemed to start the holiday off right, and it just snowballed from there.

See what I did with the word "snowballed"?  So holiday appropriate!  And punny.

So final verdict:  Good on ya, Christmas.  I'll keep you around for now.

And now, a rundown of stuff I did in 2012:

• Moved to Seattle.  Fell in love with Seattle.  Became very snooty about how awesome Seattle is.
• GOT MARRIED.  Yep,  That's right.  You can just go home everyone, I win.  No one else did anything as impressive or monumental or as fulfilling of life as I have, now that I have my very own person trapped with me forever.  Though, in all honesty, marriage is awesome and I highly recommend it.
• Applied for a ton of jobs.
• Was hired and worked at two different jobs: first as a tutor at a company that may or may not have made me racist, second at a private school that has helped me learn what I want to do with my life.
• Rediscovered my love of cooking, especially in finding and trying out new recipes.  Ask me about what I can do with a sweet potato.
• Turned 23, going on 35.  I still can't believe I'm that young.
• Used my Batman lunchbox.
• Watched waaaay too many Rifftrax.  My favorites are this, this and this.
• Went to a select few, quality concerts: Andrew Bird, Jack White, and the most delightfully intimate house show with Jeremy Messersmith.
• Made my own family traditions.  That's pretty neat.
• Ate cupcakes.  Am still undecided between Trophy Cupcakes and Cupcake Royale.
• Went to Spiral Jetty FINALLY.  And with some delightful Mary and Rosemary.
• Had a dream vacation with Taylor, visiting family in New York, then hopping over to the Baltic's to see Taylor's mission in Latvia and Estonia, and rounding it all out with some time in St. Petersburg.
• Started a new Thanksgiving tradition--watching The Crucible.
• Read many, many comic books.  My favorites are American Vampire, Batman: The Black Mirror (both by Scott Snyder), and Blankets by Craig Thompson. 
• Dyed my hair!  And not just the couple streaks, like last year.  The whole, entire head of hair a burgundy color.  It's pretty hardcore--I look like I should be wearing black leather and hunting vampires.  Which is one of my dream jobs, so I suppose it fits.
• Decided to go to graduate school fall 2013.

It was a wonderful year. One of the best in recent memory.  That's really all I have to say about that.

It's not a new year unless I make progress, and I want to track that progress.  A few months ago, I had this epiphany.  And I realized that the only thing preventing me from doing stuff is me.  If I want to do something, I need to go ahead and do it.  So that's my vague, overarching thing I want to work on.  Be assertive.  Get stuff done.  There's nobody else to blame but me.  But here are some concrete things I'd like to achieve this year.  My "resolutions," if you're into that word (I, personally, am not).

1.  Get published.  I don't care if it's for a website or a weekly or what, but I want to submit my writing someplace and have other people publish it.

2.  Get into grad school.  Please oh please let this happen.

3.  Stop eating the food in the faculty room.

4.  Keep track of the media I consumed.  Consume more media.  This includes tracking my movies, TV shows, and books.

5.  As part of the accountability for the above goal, I'm going to write reviews for every book I read.  Every.  Single.  Book.  Even the crappy, shameful YA books I sometimes read.  If you want to follow along with this journey, check me out on Goodreads.

Fawkes-y Lady

Happy Guy Fawkes Day!

Isn't my title punny?  It makes me chuckle.  I'm celebrating this November Fifth by watching V for Vendetta tonight.  Not super creative, but it's tradition.  I'm also wearing my Guy Fawkes shirt at work--it's underneath a professional button-up, but it's there.  And it's bringing me secret joy.  And that's all that matters.

Too lazy to take a picture, so this will have to do.  It's practically a self-portrait anyways.

I feel like I've been needing to write a follow-up to that last post.  To be perfectly honest, that post was always meant as a precursor--a way to announce my participation in Nanowrimo.  But then the announcement started needing in-depth explanation, and then the explanation took over, and by the time I was finished wallowing I was finished blogging.  After all, it was about ten thirty at that point, which is an hour and a half past my school-induced bedtime.

So.  Here's a rundown of what I've been doing to beat my defeatist nature. [Sidenote:  Beat the Defeatist sounds like it should be some kind of game.  Can someone who develops apps get on that?]

A few weeks ago, I decided I was tired of not being brave.  I had all these grand plans of what I wanted to do, and how I wanted my life to be.  I was talking about all the things I thought were amazing, all these jobs and experiences I wish I could have, but nothing was being done about them.  It became this grand game of comparing the life I had to the one I wanted, and it was impossible to win.  It's foolish to get in that mental competition.  The life you have and the life you think you should?  Without action, there's just no winning.

And then, like a bolt of some type of electrically charged weather, it hit me.  I was talking about all these things I wanted to do, things I wished I was a part of, but I was doing absolutely nothing about it.

"Oh, I wish I sung more."
"Oh, I wish I had more than slight skill in music."
"If only I wrote more regularly."
"If only I read as often as I used to."
"If only I got involved in my community."
"I wish I had the job I wanted."
"I wish I could just do this-or-that for the rest of my life."

And so on, so on, so on until the end of time.

So I finally decided to do something MORE than whining about what my life should be like.  I decided to work on making it the life I wanted.

Ways I am working towards what I want to be doing:

1) Participating in Nanowrimo.  For the uninitiated, that is where you write a 50,000 word novel in the month of November.  It's big.  And scary.  And any encouragement would be greatly appreciated.

2) Taking the GRE in Nov. 28th.  Also big.  Also scary.  Also containing math, my great nemesis.  Once again, any encouragement will be appreciated.

3)  Participating in a singing group and performing Christmas songs at nursing homes and hospitals around Seattle.  Even though this gives me uncomfortable choir flashbacks (repressing high school rage, repressing high school rage...), I think it's enjoyable.

4) Applying to grad schools.  I'm still trying to find the perfect program, but I'm feeling optimistic.  I want to get a Masters in Journalism, most likely in magazine work because I want to do media criticism.  Any experts out there with advice?

5) Heading up a musical program on Polynesia for my school's multicultural event.  I have never directed anything before.  To my drama friends--thoughts?  Suggestions?

6) Creating a poetry unit for the fifth graders.  This is just exciting, exciting gravy on the top of my to-do list.  Nothing helps me relax and notice the beauty more than poetry.

On my way to work, I listen to podcasts.  It keeps me from going insane from the commute.  One of my new favorites is the Nerdist podcast, which can be stellar if they are interviewing a person you're interested in.  The two I listened to last week were Conan O'Brien and Seth Green (I love my gingers), and they were delightful--ideal inspiration for creative people who want to succeed.  Both interviews made me believe that I could achieve success in my chosen field. Conan, because he was a proponent of finding balance between depression  facilitating creativity, using one to fuel the other but not wallowing; and Seth, because he was all about finding what you love and working as hard as you can towards that.  He noted that the previous generation could not imagine enjoying work.  A job was something you went to during the day, and then you tried your best to choke down unhappiness as you spent evenings with your family.  It's remarkable that we can profit from passion, and we should recognize the gift that is.

So those are my goals.

Be Brave

Work Hard

Be Kind 

Love What I Do

  Don't Whine* 

and

Be Grateful

The crazy thing is, since I've been trying to do this, I've felt... invincible.  Like I can do anything.  The fact that I am actually doing something to try and improve my life is weirdly empowering.  And it's spread to everything!  I'm more productive at my job, a better communicator with friends and family, and more willing to stand up for myself.  Who knew that becoming an advocate for yourself would be so great?  It's like I have a super power.  So watch out, here comes Assertive Woman.  Here to save the day and make her own life exponentially better--which will hopefully make other lives better.  Don't go thinking I'm totally selfish.  I'm just vowing to no longer live in self-pity.

* Or, don't whine too much.  Let's be realistic.