Category Archives: Uncategorized

On Art. and Expression.

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I can never decide what to write when I’m staring at the blank screen. It’s so….empty.

Sometimes I want to write what I’m thinking; mostly, I feel the need to catalog my day. It’s as though I can tell my state of mind simply by remembering what I did, where I went, what I saw. 
Tonight is a little bit of both. There’s so much happening, not happening, swirling around. And there are so many thoughts, too. And a rant, if you’re lucky. 
Ike, my cousin in town for the holiday weekend, and I went to the Art Museum today. I spent a lot of time trying to think of something that he might like to do; I didn’t want to disappoint him. We had a good time, checking out all of the art as we chatted. As we got back to Grandma’s door, we were talking about how we’ve never hung out as adults (we were born two weeks apart but are separated by so much – experience, space, time, etc). “It’s nice to meet you,” he said. It’s nice to meet you too, Ike. 
Foxes. 

This painting was fabulous, but strange. I liked the way that Ike melded chromatically into it. 

This painting caught my eye. It was painted in 1898, yet the colors are still so vibrant. 

Jesus. 
Lately, I’ve been hearing a lot of mixed opinions about the fact that I blog so much about my life. First of all, this is hardly scratching the surface. This doesn’t serve as a diary. It’s not my every thought or feeling. Trust me – what you see is not always what you get here. Sometimes, yes. 
This is my place to collect things. I love reviewing it. Sometimes I’m struck by my insight, other times I disagree with my past self entirely. Sometimes I use this a marker, to see how much I’ve grown as a person. Sometimes it’s just purely nostalgic. To be honest, there are moments when it’s downright embarrassing. 
Either way, the same thing holds true now that has always held: If you don’t like it, don’t read it. There are other blogs. But there are no other Katie Barry’s. (Actually, there are. I’m Facebook friends with most – many – of them. They’re a fun bunch.) 
I’m going to spare you the rant I’d decided I wanted to throw here. Hopefully when I sleep on it, it will turn into something more beautiful than the angry ball it is right now. It’s about honesty. Honesty with yourself and with everyone around you. It’s one of the things I value more than anything else in this world. I live by full disclosure (mostly). I believe that the truth of our reality lies in our experiences. If you can come to terms with events and realizations as they occur, you’re more able to process, cope, understand. The understanding that comes from honesty beats anything kept hidden by a shroud of secrecy. 
Sleep sweet, world. 

On Simon’s Back Bumper

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Yesterday, Mom’s five-year old neighbor Avery came over.
“Katie,” she told me. “Your car is all smashed.” (Simon’s been lacking his normal duct tape lately. I really do need to do something about this.)
I tell her that it happened a long time ago, when I lived in Chicago.
“You should just take your car back and get a new one,” she said.
Good advice.
Too bad the insurance company doesn’t see it the same way.

On Monday, quickly

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As a rule the purchase of books is mistaken for the appropriation of their contents.
-Schopenhauer

I found this quote after I’d decided that I’m going to buy everyone I know books for Christmas. Okay, back to square one. 
I love that this is a short week! I’m so frazzled right now, trying to get everything done. M is in town tomorrow night with her boyfriend, P, so I’m going to meet up with her and the family for dinner. I am so excited – I didn’t think I was going to be able to see them before they headed up to the mountains for Thanksgiving.

Tonight was supposed to be cleaning night, but instead, it’s throw everything around in an attempt to make organization piles. Instead of actually dealing with these piles, I think I’ll just leave them and get around to them later, as per usual.
I’m also facing the wrath of Carlos at the moment; I got home and he’d gotten into something he shouldn’t have, and consequently, he had to have a bath. Great. Now I have damp cat sitting on everything but his blanket. He’s furious at me. Instead, I’m practicing excellent escapism and going out to dinner with K. I think I’m making a much better choice. He’s more fun than laundry and wet cat any day. 

On Writing

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J just started reading my blog and he loves it.  (I love him even more for saying that!)

He told me that I am so much different here than I am in real life. 
Apparently, I let my guard down here. I seem more vulnerable. I’m so much more bold outside of this text box.
J told me that he wishes I wasn’t so critical of myself, and that he can see how much I define myself by what I do, and how I get down on myself because of it. (Who doesn’t?) Of course, moderation in all things – I work so I can party, pretty much. But then he told me that what I am, above all things, is a writer.

I finally have the answer to a question that John asked me more than a year and a half ago. I couldn’t answer it. And it’s bothered me ever since.

I can see my mom rolling her eyes right now. Of course, Katie. We’ve been saying that for years. (Do I ever listen, Mom?)

The introspective Four in me really loves this sort of examination. I love that there are two separate sides of me. Of course, this is not the whole truth – it’s far from it. It’s my representation of what I’m experiencing. It’s fractured. It’s my emotional outpouring, my naive assumptions, my life lessons. It’s heavily edited because what I’m honestly thinking isn’t always suitable for my grandmother’s eyes. (She’s an avid reader and one of my biggest supporters. She’s basically the best.) I curse now and then and talk about stuff – but I leave a lot of it out. 
There are so many posts that trigger memories for me. I won’t even have to write what happened. I like it that way. It’s like songs: Whenever I hear Midnight on the Bridge by Ming & Ping, I think of that night leaving someone’s house. We were driving and I was staring through the moon roof at the stars and all I could think about was bottling all of that happiness and keeping it forever. The song is linked above. Once you get to the webpage, scroll down to Midnight on the Bridge in the music box on the left hand side. You’ll be so happy you did.
My favorite line comes from that song:
“I want to look in your eyes and see your wonderful laughter.”
Every time I hear it, I’m thrown from wherever I am at that moment back to that night. And I’m always happy.

Friday, Friday, Friday!
Going out tonight!
Sleeping in tomorrow!
Snowboarding Sunday! – My knees are still green and black and pink and yellow from last week. This could get exciting.

On Work. Sort of.

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We had a staff meeting today.
Since I’m the youngest by about twenty years (give or take a few), I sometimes miss “relevant” cultural references.
I’ve also learned quite a bit. These women are wise. They are hilarious. They take care of me when I need it; they make me laugh; they teach me stuff.
Today, I hadn’t heard a song that they were talking about – Dreamweaver? – so we had to play it.
Right then, the head honcho walks in, shakes his head, and walks out.
I am so grateful for this environment.
I’m currently barefoot at my desk.
This is great stuff. I am so lucky.

It’s like Phil always says, “We are not what we do.”
I mean we are, mostly, but to remind ourselves that we are not just software slaves is a beautiful thing.

Today’s song? Slightly Stoopid’s Collie Man. It’s seriously one of the most beautiful songs I’ve ever heard. It reminds me of the summer after my freshman year of college….  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ziNx7V1iA2Y

On Strep

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This picture was taken early in the day. 
By the end, I was frustrated, bruised, and nearly in tears. K was kind enough to make sure I got down the mountain alive, but by the end, I was overwhelmed. Too much ice and too many people, combined with the stress of spending more than half of my time on my butt, knees, or wrists was too much. I was mad at myself; I wanted to do better. I just wanted to stay up, but couldn’t. 
I didn’t cry, but it was close. I’m paying for it now. Every muscle in my body is a mess. 
But I cant wait to do it again…although, I’d like to wait until the worst of the bruises have healed. 
Here’s hoping that next time brings progress!
I woke up yesterday morning with a majorly sore throat. Thinking nothing of it, I headed in to work. My lady boss said that she heard strep in my throat. Since my doctor’s office couldn’t get me in yesterday or today, they sent me to urgent care (thanks, guys. I appreciate that a lot – nothing like the $50 copay to get me all excited about not feeling good). The doctor who examined me winced when she saw my throat. It was strep, just as G had predicted. 
So I spent yesterday on the Love Sac, curled up with the cat (his worry about my health only extends as far as my ability to feed him), trying to get comfortable. I cried twice yesterday. I am not usually such a cryer, but I know I’m really sick when I just break down. I took a hot bath, trying to calm down and at least get one temperature through my body, but couldn’t reach up to get my bra off. So I took a bath with my bra on. 
 I finally fell asleep as the afternoon wore on, and I felt marginally better after my nap. I slept through the second half of the football game and through the night. I’m hoping to get some work done today, lest they think I’m a horrible employee, but I’m also hoping to really get myself back to normal. 
I’m going back to sleep. I’ll write something more coherent later, I hope. 

On the Library and Occupy Denver

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The library reminds me of childhood, of feeling safe and content, of feeling endless possibilities.
I  love books.
I love taking books home with me.
I do not love the fines I tend to incur when I fail to return those loved (and lost, infinitely misplaced) books.
                             
I nervously handed the librarian my driver’s license, clutching a torn envelope with my address on it just in case. He informed me that I wasn’t in the system – thank god they don’t remember me – and then told me to apply for a new card.
Five minutes later, I had a brand new library card in my hand.
It was honestly hard to contain my excitement. I wanted to just open the first book I could see and breathe in its bookish smell.
(I didn’t. I have realized that perhaps smelling books that have been touched by the population of any city may not be the best of ideas.)
At one point, I had eight books in my arms.
E and I wandered through the stacks, picking and choosing and chatting.
I will not be able to aptly describe the feeling of contentment that flooded my soul.
I pared my choices down to six.
Desmond Tutu didn’t make it.
(He was replaced with a romance novel, but shhh, don’t tell him that.)

Saturday, K (oh dear – now I have two K’s; this may get tangled) and I went Halloween costume shopping. I needed a tutu and he needed everything. After we stopped at a vintage store, we saw a ton of cop cars headed toward Occupy Denver, and since he’d never been, we went to have a look. I tried to explain it all to him, but realized that it’s a lot harder to encapsulate concisely now that everything seems to have fallen apart.

On some level, I still agree with the protesters. I see that the greed of our economic policies, leaders, bankers, etc. has gone overboard. 
                                        
But I also don’t see why you’d endanger your health to sleep outside in the snow or why you’d risk arrest just you could disrespect a police officer. Things have shifted drastically in recent days, and I’m finding myself more and more removed from the movement. I no longer think the people protesting are so adamant about their beliefs and goals, and instead, seem to have let a variety of distractions get in their way.
That, and hearing that there’s been conflicts with the police that were instigated by protesters, is slightly off-putting. There’s no need for violence and there’s certainly no need for violence against the people who are supposed to protect you. Granted, the police may not always react appropriately or respectfully, but they need to know that they at least have the respect of the protesters. Otherwise, something violent will happen that could seriously endanger lives. 

On Jumbled Thoughts and Butterflies

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“May today there be peace within.
May you trust that you are exactly where you are meant to be.
May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith in yourself and others.
May you use the gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you.
May you be content with yourself just the way you are.
Let this knowledge settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love.
It is there for each and every one of us.”

-From an email sent by Aunt S. 
I know it’s a lame forward, but I don’t think anybody can surround themselves with too much good. So, there you go, some good for the day. 
I’m not going to lie, I’ve been way too happy to even think about blogging anything. 
Literally. It’s like when things are going really well, I can’t write. My fingers stop working. 
Saturday: I had one of those really perfect, rare evenings where you stay up all night talking about everything. I got like two hours of sleep, but it was so worth it. I’m getting butterflies for the first time in a long time. 
Halloween was a massive success. Between a house party, a bar adventure, and a laid back cider-y evening, I managed to enjoy myself immensely. 
Last night, J hung up the phone and then looked at me. “Do you talk really fast?” he asked, but before I had time to react, he said, “Never mind. You talk a lot, but you don’t talk fast.” 
It’s sad but true.
We had a wonderful evening. I had wanted to sit on the porch drinking cider and pass out candy to trick-or-treaters, however, there were none. So instead, K came over to join J and Mike and me for dinner. We had Thai (thank god I didn’t have to cook) and I made really good spiked cider and cookies. Between that and football, I think we were set. 
Seriously. I have nothing to say. This is so lame. I keep smiling. It’s weird. 
I’m going to the library to see about getting a library card. That should at least be a good story.