I am Kate. Here I will post images and words about my life and thoughts. Please enjoy. Read more about me here: |
Today in my research writing class we had to write about a place that comes to mind when we think of "home." I thought about my window in my room. Here is what I wrote (along with some photos): It’s a summer day. I have just come inside from spending the afternoon by the pool. My skin holds onto the warmth from outside and the harsh stream of sunlight, manifesting its way to tanned skin. I jump in the shower to rinse the warmth and salty chlorine off of me. I watch as the tainted water falls down the drain taking the brightness of the afternoon with it. When I walked into my room I could see the trees, which had leaves mimicking every shade of green possible, some even looking yellow with the harsh reflection of the sun. My window had been cracked, which made the air of my room fill with the familiar sound of chirping birds and a faint lawnmower that I somehow have in the back of every summer memory at home. I get out of the shower and dry off. The sky is darker now. I crack my window because I love the smell of an oncoming summer thunderstorm. I am in North Carolina where I have grown up; here we get thunderstorms almost every summer afternoon. They make you want to curl into bed and simply listen to the angry sky, which is exactly what I planned on doing. I climbed on top of my white sheets, now looking dull with the grey of the sky; I hear them rustle beneath me, conforming to my body. I am forced to close my window because rain is beginning to come down, splattering the edge of my bed that rests so close against the window. My room is humid from the outdoor air that has mixed with the steam of my shower. My room has now taken the smell of my lavender lotion and summer rain. I put on some music and get the book that I am currently reading. Here is where I will spend the rest of the afternoon. For some reason whenever I am seated in front of my window like this, I am flooded with memories of past years. I have spent so many hours in this exact spot reading, watching movies, collaging, writing, or just laying here. I can’t help but to feel a bit nostalgic as I watch myself come back to this space of comfort year after year. I change, but this spot still inflicts the same sense of ease in me. To me, this is how I think of home.
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I haven't made a post in a long time, so here I am. This post may be a little all over the place because I am just going to do a little update and tell you about the last few days, so bear with me. to begin, On Thursday evening William and I went to the ballet. We saw Boston Ballet's "Full on Forsythe," which was incredible. I absolutely adore going to the ballet; I mean, getting dressed up and a night full of art shared with someone you love- how much more perfect could that get? I wore a ribbed white t-shirt under a black, sparkly (but a subtle sparkly) dress. It was a great balance between casual and fancy. To go with this I wore bright purple earrings, light pink/nude chunky heels, my long eggplant-colored coat, a bit of lipstick, and my gold-wire glasses. Laura was also kind enough to curl my hair, which was so fun. She came over and we talked for a long time as she curled it, which was lovely; I love getting ready with people. Also, it made the whole look come together! William wore a white, turtleneck sweater, black jeans, and a black suit jacket. His gold coin necklace, that feels so 'him,' was placed around his neck and he wore socks with red, white, and green polka-dot docks (always have to have some fun pop of color!). With my jacket off we had the same black-and-white look going, but it was okay because I think it worked. The ballet was beautiful, so fun, and unlike a lot of other contemporary ballets that I have seen. William also LOVED it, which I am so glad about. I am really thankful that I got to share that with him and that it was something he genuinely enjoyed. We walked back with our arms linked and smiles on our faces. Yesterday evening Daniel and I went on a walk. I left my phone in my room and we set off for a long walk. Within minutes we greatly regretted not bringing a camera. The sky illuminated this elegant soft pink and caused the windows to radiate this fiery bright orange. It was stunning! We walked through a bit of Beacon Hill and Back Bay- some of my favorite parts of Boston. I like to imagine living in the beautiful, brick brownstones. I think about what it would be like to sit on my fire escape and watch the light hit the street as I sip on a warm cup of tea or coffee. It would be so nice to have my own home to come back to (pretty sick of dorms... four years+ is a long time to be in a dorm and have a roommate). Anyways, later that night William and I giggled endlessly, watched Queer Eye, and just talked for a while- it was lovely and wholesome. I feel asleep so so content. Today, I took a ballet class and got brunch with some friends. I've only taken a couple of ballet classes since leaving uncsa in May; I am still getting used to only taking class sporadically. I talked to my mom on the walk there and today the weather was beautiful! I felt like my high school self today. I woke up early, put my hair in a bun, ate oatmeal while sitting in my bed, got dressed and went to class. I warmed up outside the studio and watched tiny little ballerinas press there faces against the glass windows to watch the class that was going on- it was pretty adorable. To be completely honest, class felt brutal, BUT I still had fun. It is so strange how foreign something, that used to be so in your body, can feel. Ballet is something that is always IN your body, but it just feels harder. I'm not sure if that makes sense, but it feels like no time has passed since the last time I take class, but the same class feels more difficult. The summer of 2015 I did San Francisco Ballet's summer intensive and that was before I went to uncsa, so it was a big change for me. I remember coming back and thinking how GOOD class felt. It felt so easy and smooth. This was like the opposite of that. It's okay because I enjoy the challenge, it's just different. It's such a physical and mental challenge. I was physically having to push my body further than I have had to in SO long, to try and find the muscles and movement and quality that was once a first language. I also had to push myself mentally. I am not going to lie, I also felt pretty insecure. My body has changed a lot since stopping ballet, which I am totally okay with, BUT it does mess with your perception. I just have to get in the mindset that it literally doesn't matter. Now, I am only dancing for ME. I am not actively striving for a tangible goal (other than to just do my best). I am just dancing to have fun and move my body. The feeling of exhaustion post-hard class though- that is a feeling I have surely missed. Afterwards, I met up with Karthik, Ralph, and Katie at The Friendly Toast. I got coffee because I always like to treat myself when I am out for breakfast (plus Friendly Toast has THE best coffee). I got the "guy scramble" with vegan cheddar and tofu instead of egg. It's so so tasty. That place brings me so much joy. I have such positive memories there and it just radiates sunshine and good energy. We laughed, ate good food, and Karthik and Ralph discussed hot sauce for almost ten minutes. We walked back to school and giggled at a cone that had a yellow beanie on it. Since then, I have just been relaxing. I cleaned my room, I have read some of my book (The Great Alone by Kristin Hannah, and I took a very long and very needed nap.
Alright that is all for now. If you read all of this- thank you. I hope you all are enjoying the beautiful weather wherever you are <3 "February has ripened into love, and I have become whole and complete," - Miklós Radnóti, from All That Still Matters At All: Poems, "Pagan Salute," Describe someone you love, I hope you all have a lovely day full of love and sweets. Whether that love is for yourself, a crush, family, friends, or a parter- feel it wholeheartedly.
It's no wonder that the turn of the year instigates so much reflection, especially for students. Not only are we young and changing more dramatically day to day than we ever will, but our years are also broken up by school years. At the start of 2018, I was starting the second semester of my senior year of high school. My group of friends was entirely different from the one I have now. I spent hours of each day dancing and doing AP government and politics, AP literature and composition, physics, and AP calculus, many of which I barely think about now. I was also living in Winston-Salem, North Carolina and meticulously planning most of my days. Fast forward one "actual" year and I am approaching the second semester of my freshman year at Emerson College in Boston. I am surrounded by an entirely new group of people with different interests. I take writing classes and classes about culture, power, and women in the art world. I live more in the moment than I ever have, letting the spontaneous opportunities of my amazing school, city, and peers help guide each moment. My dorm room no longer faces a quiet sidewalk of UNCSA's campus, but faces the busy streets of downtown Boston. For students, time is broken up into two forms of years: when the year actually changes and when a new academic year begins/ends. For this reason, we go through even more change than the average adult. Having two ways of measuring years results in significantly more opportunities for change. I find myself always feeling that the person I was the first half of the year is dramatically different from the person I am the latter half. In this post I am going to go through a few reflections and thoughts, largely about the people in my life because not a day goes by that I don't think about how grateful I am for the people by my side. I have been best friends with Gracie for around eight years now. We have been by each other's sides as we grow into women, resembling nothing like the ones we were in 2010. Yet, through that, we have grown closer. Instead of bonding over the mutual people in our lives, or ballet (which is how we met), we bonded over conversations of vulnerability, philosophy, spirituality, relationships, literature, humor, cooking, and everything in between. This has honed the most genuine friendship. For years we both dreamed of going to school up North and after those many years of fantasies and frustrations I am in Boston and she is at school in Chicago. We are both loving life and immensely proud of each other. I met Sienna my sophomore year of high school. I switched roommates in the early fall because my current roommate and I just weren't too compatible. By chance, Sienna, a girl I had never spoke with before, was next door in a single. I moved in and we didn't speak for two months. The only interaction we had was "is that okay if I turn the light out?" when it came time for bed. I thought she had hated me. We were both painfully shy at this time in our lives, so it took us a long time to warm up to each other, but once we did boy did we connect. Over the years we have become more outgoing, cut our hair, shared many meals of Thai food, written a lot of poetry, and become giddy over plants at Reynola Gardens. I feel overwhelmed with gratitude to have spent so much time with this girl, growing into the people we are now. Pictured on the left is Lillia, Erin, Katriana, and Lindsay. I met these girls my first year at UNCSA. Over the years we have accidentally matched an embarrassing number of times, we have been to Camino basically every weekend at school, we have shared many cries (both sad and supportive), and we have laughed more than humanly possible. Put the five of us together and we won't stop laughing for days on end- I dare you. These girls are so incredibly talented. Part of why these friendships are so amazing is because we can have a good time together (like a GREAT time), but we also know how to work together. With all of us being ballet majors, we have had to got through many placement weeks, many auditions, and many tough classes; we know how to be serious together. We have all grown so much over the years and I couldn't be more proud. They helped me "come out of my shell" more (as Dr. Haigh said) and helped me become more confident. These are my people and I don't know how I got so lucky to be able to spend years dancing and giggling with these beautiful gals. Above is Jules, Daniel, Karthik, and William. I met Jules at a Journalism department meeting during orientation week. I later sat with her in my journalism classes that we had together. An hour into first meeting William, he agreed to go to a Young the Giant concert together that was an hour away in another state (why he didn't think I was crazy is beyond me). My first time hanging out with Karthik he asked me to take a video of him catching a pancake in his mouth. I met Daniel during the 48 hour film festival when William and I were hanging out. Daniel and I talked. He told me he could "actually tolerate me," which he then explained was a very good thing. He also cried in front of me that night (to this day, that is the only time I have ever seen him cry). I have known these people for only three and a half months, but they mean everything to me. I can't for more late nights, max runs, and adventures around Boston with them. Each of them is so passionate, talented, and open-minded. I am so thankful to get to be inspired by these beautiful souls everyday. We are all so loving and cherish our time together. Our group is the perfect balance of everything: straight-up FUN, creativity, hard work, and lots and lots of love for each other. Sometimes I wonder if the people that I have in my life come into it by chance, because of where I am, or because we are meant to meet. How is it possible that I have had such incredible people in my life? I believe in having many soulmates and I believe everything happens for a reason. So, I like to think that all of these people were meant to come into my life. But, for that I am eternally grateful. No matter how I got lucky enough to be surrounded by these people, I am damn happy that I am. This year has brought more happiness than I ever thought I could feel. It often overwhelms me. At a point in my life I could not have fathomed what this level of elation and feeling of true happiness could feel like, but here it is. I am beyond in love with my life and the people in it. Thank you to everyone that contributed to the growth and joy of 2018. You are loved!
Boston continues to get colder and colder. Eventually we are going to reach temperatures that I am unfamiliar with, but I am eager. I enjoy the numbing cold; it's refreshing (although, you should ask me if I think that in a month or two because I think my answer may have changed by then).
If I am not walking to class with someone, my headphones are in. There is something so magically free feeling about listening to music as I walk down Boylston Street. It may sound silly, but it makes me feel so in my body. I always feel so content. I love walking and listening to music; I enjoy it even as the temperature drops. As the atmosphere changes, so does the music I listen to. What I listened to while drinking mango kombucha by the pool as I sweat from the heat in between swims varies dramatically from what I listen to when it is bare and somber out. Even what I listened to while watching the golden leaves fall on my walks through the park varies from what I listen to when the world is preparing to be covered in snow. When the branches sound as if they are cracking when a slight breeze meets the exposed bark. When the sky turns a faded pink that appears so warm that it is deceiving. As it gets darker and colder, my music becomes softer. You all likely know, but Spotify just came out with 2018 wrapped lists. I wanted to share some of my favorite songs of the season so far, in addition to new discoveries from my tastebreaker playlist. Melatonin, Carter Vail Small Foreign Faction, Haley Blais Denim, Stelth Ulvang Future Me Hates Me, The Beths The First Time, Nicotine's Famous Honey Leonie, Frankie Cosmos You'll Be on My Mind, Jacob Ogawa Yes I'm Changing, Tame Impala Crow Song, Haley Heynderickx & Max García Conover Heat Wave, Snail Mail Trumpet Boy, LAUNDRY DAY Bite The Hand, Julien Baker & Phoebe Bridgers & Lucy Dacus Compromised, Tim Atlas Year's in a Day, Alexei Shishkin I hope you enjoy these beautiful songs as much as me. The first time I hung out with him was back in September. He was (and still is) friends with a girl I kind of knew at the time: Jules. I went to get coffee and do homework with Jules, Sam, and William. I had known him only a couple of hours when we discovered a shared love, and long history, of the band Young the Giant. I have been listening to them since I was eleven. I went to see them in 2014 when they were one of two opening bands for Kings of Leon. William has been listening to them with his family since 2011. We can both agree that their music has grown along with us. There are so many layers to what their music means to me and to him. After discovering this shared passion for a smaller band, we looked up concerts in Boston. We saw one in Providence, RI. Don't ask me why, but after knowing him for two hours at the most I felt it was completely appropriate to suggest we go stay with my (step) cousin who goes to RISD while we attend the concert. He was apparently not too phased because he liked the idea. We bought tickets the next day and I made arrangements to stay with my cousin Ella. It is good that we only grew closer because it could have gone the other direction. Come mid-November we were still very close. So, Sunday November 11th came along and hoped on an Amtrak train to Providence with a backpack and some snacks. We ate grapes and somewhat stale sourdough bread with raspberry jam, while the light reflected off of the sugary spread and soaked into the crevices of our bread. We listened to some music to accompany the view of passing faded trees. We ran off the train eager to meet the fresh air. "Downtown" I read from a sign. "That works, right?" I asked and before I knew it we were heading through the doors into the cool, crisp air of Rhode Island in November. We headed towards the coffee place where Ella works, allowing ourselves to get sidetracked by copious amounts crunchy leaves and rippling reflections of the church tower. We were welcomed by a smiling Ella and the warmth of this little nook. She brought us coffee with soy milk, which I later spilled aggressively after hitting the table. We soaked up the bittersweet drink that energized us for the long day ahead. William filmed a silhouette of a man's dancing fingers while he escaped reality. We trekked back to her apartment stopping to acknowledge the silence and solitude of the air. We stood there with our faces towards the sun. We listened to the absence of the pandemonium that Boston bears. I hadn't realized how much I missed, and cherished, the peacefulness of quiet air. We made it to her apartment and were welcomed by Luna. Luna is their little black kitty whom we found basking in the sunlight striking the wood floors. William and I hooked up his phone to the aux, so we could dance around to "Apartment" and "My Body" by Young the Giant. It was pure joy dancing around that warm kitchen on such a happy day. xxxxxx This is William on his phone for the last time before we put them away for the weekend. From here we went and got a proper meal. We got a bit distracted by a park near the water, murals, and perfect climbing trees. But, after that we got food. We each got a sandwich with home fries and it was delicious. We looked at a RISD/Brown newspaper while we ate and chatted.
We found an amazing vintage store to browse through. It never ended. There were endless rooms and floors of family postcards from the 50's, large studded rings, fur coats, CDs of the coneheads' soundtrack, boy scouts' books, and vintage radios. As we walked up the stairs, surrounded by large, framed paintings and a full length mirror, we compared our visit here to that of Percy Jackson's in the Lotus Casino. We had already spent hours in there and could easily spend more looking at old cameras, trying on elaborate clothes, and flipping through the dusty pages of deteriorating magazines. We forced ourselves to leave and we left at the perfect time. We walked down the quiet, secluded street. We passed churches illuminated by the golden hour sun and stiff tree branches. The sliver of the sky we could see at the end of the road took on the color of a peach from the summer that had faded due to the bitter cold of the sullen winter skies. We chased it. We ran towards the sky, towards the ocean. Home. I didn't anticipate how much I would miss it while I was gone. Living in the suburbs of Charlotte, North Carolina does not bring the most eventful times, but it does bring some memorable ones. I have been home for a few days and it has been both rewarding and refreshing. I walk outside each morning and take a moment to breathe in the fresh, untainted air. I take a moment to close my eyes and listen to the silent atmosphere, aside from a few crinkling leaves resulting from a light breeze making them clash together high up in the sky and the sounds of birds speaking another language. I take a moment to soak up the Carolina blue sky, the warmer temperatures, and the never ending dancing treetops. I missed my woods and I am thankful to be back just in time to see the last life of the leaves as they are overtaken by an array of warm colors right before the cold overwhelms and blows away the last reminiscence of warmth. Paul Simon swarms the air, along with the scents of baking pie crust and the fresh air coming from the open door. My mom and I sing and dance along to our favorite tunes, while we dirty our hands with sticky dough and splattering cranberries. I look at her. She is content and so am I. We have good music, good food, family, and fresh air. What more could you want? This is home. I am driving. It’s 1am after Thanksgiving day. I drive down Main Street and not a soul can be found. I have never seen it like this, but then again I don’t think I have ever driven around at 1am on a holiday. It was oddly eerie. I was reminded of different phases of my life as I passed by places that I have specific memories in. I saw myself at varying ages with the corresponding friends. I thought of the memories I have in each of the places I passed. It was like watching my younger years as I drove by each moment. I thought of the people in their homes sleeping with full bellies after a long day of cooking and soaking up time with family. I pictured people bundled up in the warm glow of their homes while I drove with the sleeves of my shirt over my hands to protect them from the permanently cold steering wheel. I thought of all the things that people are thankful for and how that varies so drastically depending on one’s mind and environment. Amidst this, all I can see at the end of this long, empty road is the glow of a green light. A green light telling me to go. Nobody is there to watch me, or to stop me, but I follow. I follow all of the rules and I follow this green light all the way home and I carry it with me. I carry this light that tells me to keep going, not to stop. I carry this drive with me wherever I go. This is home. I am eating some toast on my floor. I am surrounded by poetry books, old children’s books, a ridiculous amount of mugs next to me (that likely contain the remains of the copious amounts of chamomile tea that I have been drinking), markers, pens, and glue sticks. I am writing, reading poetry, and collaging. It is sometime around midnight and I have been here for hours just letting my mind spill things onto the pages and watching as my thoughts materialize into miscellaneous words and images. The phrase “Ojos de Dios” rests next to an image of a daisy chain and some doodles. The pages begin to fill up. This is home. This is what I love most. I love my quiet nights spent on my floor snacking and drinking tea while I write until my hand cramps and my mind, exhausted from thinking, is ready for sleep.
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Author18 year old girl living in boston and studying journalism. I love to create and be in nature. FOLLOW ME:
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