The Day After Christmas: A Thought Process

Full of food, or just full of love, unpacking is really just finding new homes for old, familiar objects, books piled to the ceiling, comforting sound of rain hitting the pavement outside, knowing there are no obligations today, Otis Redding helping time move along, not enough fingers to count all blessings, bundling up, preparing for the year to come, thinking it could be better than the last.

Familiar Faces

School has ended. Last weekend we got snow, and lots of it. Here is my proof:

Despite the city being iced over, we still managed to attend three parties. A work party, a”sunshine” party (where there was a real sun lamp, heat, juice, and people dancing in bathing suits and other summer attire) and a Christmas potluck.

Monday I worked 6:30 to 2:30, babysat 3:00 to 6:00, and then caught a train to Croton, New York at 8 p.m., finally arriving at 11:30 p.m. The only person I’d travel to spend less than 24 hours with is my best friend, Olivia. She lives in San Francisco and I haven’t been able to see her in a year and a half so it was very worth it to hop on over to New York as she was visiting James’ family. We talked all night, went to the Met the next day, and walked around the city. We even went and saw the big tree. I love seeing them. It’s really always a good time and feels like we never spent time apart.

Here are some crappy cell phone photos from our trip to the Met:

"Kait, this is awkward"

Olivia and I casually hanging out in our bedroom.

You could spend an entire day looking at all of the Egyptian art.

I can't think of a caption for this. I just really liked this room.

Coolest headband ever.

I tried to make it look like I was wearing this wig. This picture is scary. I'm sorry.

People reflecting, reflections.

Favorite people.

I wanted James to break dance really horribly in the center.

Awesome French design.

Georgia O'Keefe.

More Georgia.

I set the alarm off here.

My favorite painting at the Met. Clyfford Still.

Lovers and Jackson Pollock.

Always like Chuck Close.

THE tree.

My favorite couple in the world.

Louis.

Now it’s almost Christmas and you know what that means: AWESOME food. Yes, it’s that time of year where I am proud to be a Sicilian and celebrating La Vigilia. Christmas Eve is spent at my aunt’s house in NJ where we feast on the seven different fish (plus a million other dishes). I usually eat so much that Christmas day I only eat a small dinner. I didn’t realize that other American families usually eat ham or turkey on Christmas day until a few years ago since we always eat ravioli. Although I’m not a religious person, I do feel strong ties to my cultural past and love being reminded once a year. Christmas day is spent at my parent’s house and I can’t wait to relax by the fire.

I have nothing weird or crazy to say right now. I’m feeling pretty quiet and content. Merry Christmas.

Doin’ it and doin’ it and doin’ it well.

I don’t have the time to update anymore. Okay, I’ll try not to sound too busy or important, I’m just a student with 17 credits, two jobs, and a semi-decent social life. I’m not flying jets and eating caviar at the Climate Conference or anything. But I will tell you one thing, I’m fucking tired.

Right now it is 9:00 a.m. on Thursday morning. I’ve been awake since Wednesday at 6:30 in the morning. Technically, I should have been awake at 5 but my delirious self set the alarm wrong, overslept, and was late for work. I haven’t fucked up like that in awhile. It’s just, lately I’ve been drunk off of stress. Actually, more like wasted.

I stayed awake all last night designing my ping pong book and I’m still not finished. That photo at the top of the page is included. I just finished taking my design final. For no sleep, I think I did better than alright. Right now, I have an hour until my next and last final. Then I have to finish designing, drive to West Philly to get this shit printed, and then finally meet with the head of the department and Nathan at 4:30 to ooooooooo and aaaaaahhhh over our finished projects. Then I’m going to drive back to New Jersey (I’m still housesitting) and pass the fuck out. All of this profanity is used to emphasize how overly exhausted I am.

I was supposed to finish moving clothes into my new apartment today, but I’m guessing when 5:30 comes around, I will not have the energy. Oh yeah, I moved in with my boyfriend. I’m living with a non blood-related man for the first time in my life…and so far, it’s working out just fine. Our new space is small but we’ll just try to use the word cozy instead. Maybe when everything is settled (several months from now) there will be photos. I mean, knowing me, of course there will be some kind of photos.

Well, I should probably drink this coffee before it gets cold.

Get pumped.

This weekend we…

went to a Christmas party where there were trees made out of steel and real candles!

got to spend the entire weekend with Brian who was visiting from Portland!

saw snow!

posed in front of a tree! (not really)

wait, maybe he actually did! (!)

took cabs everywhere because money was not an issue! But I spent way too much money at Reward! (I'm tired of using exclamation points!)

got dressed up and went out to dinner! (and breakfast…twice!)

Even though it is finals time, and I have a ten page paper due tomorrow, I’m in a pretty good mood. Last night I got to see my good (best) friends Kiel and Patrick play at North Star. It was the first time I’ve really seen them play since I’m an asshole (always busy). I smiled like a geek the whole time – they were so amazing. Like so amazing that Dan whispered in my ear “…this is really good…”, in the middle of the show.

Seeing Brian is always nice and I get to spend the next 10 days in Jersey because I’m catsitting for my parents while they are on vacation in Aruba and some other sunny places. The weirdest thing ever is that my good friend Olivia is dogsitting for her parents this week, who are in Aruba as well. So, girly sleepover may happen. And, this week we are moving to a better apartment. And, school is almost over. And, it’s almost Christmas.

And !

Note to self:

Do not take health for granted.

Turkeys, Birthdays, Ping Pong, & War

I’m not having a very good day today. What’s it like shooting photos and attending three classes when you are struggling with food poisoning? Well, my friends, it’s near impossible. Lucky for me, there is a bathroom on every floor at school, sometimes two. Am I disgusting you? Good. Because I feel absolutely horrible. Normally I would just skip class but being that there are only two more classes left before finals, I figured my presence is vital.

Normally I dread my three hour break between my second and last class. Today, I thank the gods for it. I made my way to Rite-Aid at Broad & Susquehanna right after class. Pepto-Bismol, Saltines, and Ginger-Ale, cash back just in case I can’t bear the strength to take the subway home (then I would take a cab).

As I’m leaving Rite-Aid, looking down at my feet, trying my best to avoid all human contact, I look up and a man grabs my arm. My heart stopped. I asked him to please not touch me because I’m sick. (A man grabs me in the ghetto of North Philly and I tell him I’m sick?) He said he hoped it wasn’t the H1N1, let go of me, and demanded that I give him money. I told him all I had was two dollars cash, which was just enough to catch the train home. He didn’t seem amused. I reached in my back pocket and handed him the two dollars. He grabbed me once again, trying to embrace me, hug me or kiss me, I didn’t know what the fuck he was trying to do. I forced my way out of his grip and walked as fast as I could to the corner. He didn’t follow.

Now, I’m at the corner. I see a man talking with an older woman across the street. The neon hand of “go” for pedestrians lights up, I make my way over. As I’m about to step foot on the curb the man runs to block my path and says “man, what a beautiful woman. I bet a woman like you has a boyfriend, don’tchu?”

“Married.”

“Oh well, damn. You’re doing better than the rest of us.”

I’m not married.

I walk a few feet to the steps which lead down to the subway. As I’m making my way down, I hear faint screaming. A man. As I’m walking closer and closer to the turnstile, the noise gets louder. I see a sign for a unisex public restroom. The noise is coming from there. Exhausted, feeling like I’m going to be sick everywhere, and frightened. I handed the woman at the booth two dollars and just as I was about to alert her that a suspicous noise was coming from the bathroom, a train arrived. I didn’t say anything. I caught the train instead of letting out a few simple words. Am I a bad person? Could this person really be in trouble? Could this person possibly be hurting someone else? Would I be putting myself or anyone else in danger for telling her? I don’t know. But here I am, laying on my bed in pain, writing to you about it. I am a waste.

In other news, tonight will be the night Obama gives his speech concerning the increase of troops in Afghanistan. This whole situation is lose-lose to me. I’d really like to be a good citizen and watch, but I have to shoot ping pong at 7:30 in New Jersey. Life.

So everything is not so dreary, here are some photos from my weekend. (Thanksgiving dinner in New Jersey at my parent’s house, my boyfriend’s birthday/an international ping pong tournament/just relaxation at his parent’s house in Maryland)

Another paper, another dead

I’m here in New Jersey getting ready to celebrate Thanksgiving. Last night I slept the longest I possibly could, woke up, stretched my legs, made myself some eggs and poured a tall, piping hot cup of coffee into a hand-painted ceramic mug. Reached for the paper, thought to myself how nice it is to be able to sit here and read the news while I eat a warm breakfast. I am thankful for all of these simple things.

Comcast Building Christmas show, yadda yadda yadda, “KILLER OF OFFICER CHUCK CASSIDY SENTENCED TO DIE”. Normally, I try not to get too involved with all the crime stories; it’s not good for my heart, let alone my head. But I can’t help but cringe when reading news like this. Here we have, another young black male sentenced to death, his life just as disposable as the next of his kind. Sure, he killed an officer. That is a crime. I have no remorse for any individual who has it in them to kill. But what I do have remorse for, is any black male sentenced to death – and how cheap these institutions treat the lives of black people in this country.

Cassidy’s killer has a name, his name is John Lewis and he’s only 23 years old. I can’t help but think of how he felt at his deciding moment to shoot the officer. Just think about it. Here he is, a young black male, robbing a Dunkin Donuts and he is confronted by an officer – a white, male officer. If this officer chose to shoot Lewis, I doubt he would have faced jail time. Even if Lewis was just walking down the street, minding his own business, not committing any crime and Cassidy chose to shoot him, once again, it would take years to decide whether or not the officer would face jail time. The institutions would act upon the case as quietly as possible, and then try their hardest to somehow put Lewis at fault, maybe even just for appearing “suspicious”. Thinking all of this in his head, kill or be killed, I can almost understand why he shot at the officer. No, I am not commending Lewis’ act. I am just simply trying to present a reason why this young man chose to shoot him.

But here we have it – a large front page picture of the blonde haired, blue eyed Cassidy family mourning their family member’s death. Another black male sentenced to death. The institution saddened at the crime of a “delinquent” killing a “hero”.

Oh, but what happened on Monday? Did you hear? A cop shot and killed a 21 year old in Port Richmond. The story is 8 lines long.

(Atlas Sound – Sheila)

Today I was eating lunch by myself. This is nothing new. I don’t read or listen to music or talk on the phone while I eat, I’m content just watching the average passerby. I noticed a man looking at me as he walked in but thought nothing of it. A lot of people look at me, then look away, unfazed by our mundane interaction. I continued eating, looking at the sky, thinking to myself the clouds looked puffier than usual. “Excuse me.”

I’m almost always startled when a stranger speaks to me. I think it’s because most of the time I feel as though I’m walking around with an invisible veil; you know, I see you, you don’t see me. It took me a second to look up and actually respond. The man I had seen just a few minutes ago was standing above me. “I hate to interrupt your lunch but I just had to tell you that you just look stunning sitting here”. Surprised and unsure of how to respond, I just gave a quick “thanks”. He continued to stand there and then told me he was just stopping in for a quick lunch but saw me sitting here and had to stop. He asked me how I felt about the university, and told me of his interest in pursuing a graduate degree here. He seemed calm and confident, and I guess he thought the same of me, because he told me I appeared to be the sedated, educated type. He guessed that I was a business major, I quickly responded with a “no”. I told him photography and anthropology were my interests and he automatically assumed I was the National Geographic type. “Not really, National Geographic is for those who consider themselves superior to the rest of the world. Going to the furthest country away and coming back with the most beautiful, exotic, primal portrait you can”. Why was I even sharing this with him? He was a stranger, I didn’t care about his presence. He could leave right now and I would go on eating my lunch, thinking about the puffy clouds, checking the time. But I told him this and I sat there calmly. He then told me he would really like to get to know me and that he thought I had a lot to say. I told him I had a boyfriend, I don’t know why I didn’t tell him sooner. He responded that it didn’t matter that I was taken, that he could be my boyfriend too as long as I kept him in the #1 spot. What does that even mean? Are you admitting right now that you are so shallow that you would consider sharing a random girl on the street with another man just because you find her stunning? Thinking all of these things in my head, becoming more and more irked by his presence, I began to tell him that I didn’t think my boyfriend would be too fond of sharing; that I live with him and I love him, I don’t want anyone else. His face went blank. He shook my hand and walked away. I finished my lunch, thinking about the puffy clouds, checking the time.