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Every time someone asks me to tell them the three things I like best about myself, all I can think of is how I would rather use my head as a punch bowl than answer that question. There are about a million correct ways I could answer. I am a girl, yes. A sister, yes. A daughter, yes. A lover, at times. A fighter, yeah sure. A thinker, always. A cook, yup. A runner, a fashionista, and a barista. Vaguely speaking, yes. But, I said vaguely. I can’t be pinpointed by a single description. I cannot be defined easily. I could answer any way I like. I could make you think annnnything I like. But, the truth of the matter is that I can solely be defined by looking at my life in its entirety. I change daily. (Case in point: favorite band circa 1999, Spice Girls). I am more than what I do, I am what I am.
I hate racing. Loathe, despise, abominate it. Have me run 10 miles, perfect. Track repeats, wonderful. Racing, can you please kill me? Don’t get me wrong, I’m competitive as hell. But have you ever tried to race yourself? I’m my own worst enemy. And it’s damn frustrating. Nothing I do is ever enough. Apparently, I have a split personalityâ€” one who loves to race and one who hates it. Why is it that whenever I race the one who hates it is out there chugging along? Once my race-lover side took over and I won. I was 100 yards ahead and I couldn’t feel my body. Not from lack of pain, but from the inexplicable happiness and disbelief that comes from pushing your body further than you imagined possible. I crossed the finish line; I seriously thought I had died. 800 meters. 2 minutes, 35 seconds. Not great, but respectable. That was two years ago, I still haven’t stopped bragging.
“I NEVER EVER WANT YOU TO SEE HIM AGAIN!” Dad said
“YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO TELL ME THAT!! YOU CANNOT TELL ME WHO TO LOVE! I CAN’T WAIT TO LEAVE THIS (insert foul language) HOUSE!!!!!” daughter said
â€”I only want what’s best for herâ€”Dad thinks
â€” I hate himâ€” daughter thinks
(Sixty-five minutes elapse)
“Do you want chicken marsala for dinner?” Dad said
“Yeah” daughter said
â€”I love herâ€” Dad thinks
â€”I love himâ€” daughter thinks
They’re a family
Apparently the key to world peace is empathy and “walking a mile in someone else’s’ shoes.” Nah. Don’t you think all the worlds’ differences could be solved over a warm cup of coffee and a heaping plate of chocolate-chip pancakes? Trust me, we’d have peace. Well, that is until the coffee runs dry and the pancakes have all been devoured. Then expect a fight. Actually, expect a big fight, those pancakes are killer.
Following footsteps to… London. Rosenheim. Rome. Chicago. Fontainebleau. Florence. New Delhi. Hong Kong. St Louis. Agra. Paris. Prague. Beijing. New York. Orlando. Venice. Berlin. Jaipur. Xi’an. York. Austria. Oahu. Willow Glen. Memphis. Tokyo. Fort Meyers.
I used to think that if you fell out of love, it wasn’t real in the first place. I used to think that I’d fall in love once. People used to tell me it wasn’t real. They told me we’d grow apart. They said it couldn’t last and we’d get sick of each other, he’d go to college and we’d change. I refused to believe them because I was so in love, it hurt. He was my best friend, my boyfriend, my mentor, my everything. We had plans. The wedding was going to be in late November. Flowers? Gerber daisies. Colors? Yellow and blue. Best man? His brother. Home? Seattle. It was perfect and I gave him all of my heart, I really had nothing left to give. He was wonderful and we were wonderful. Now it’s just one big was. Even so, I know it was love.
He thinks the world of her. She’s going to be an actress. She’s going to be a princess. She’s going to change the world. She loves him but doesn’t know how to show him. His confidence in her is never forgotten. She wishes she could let him know how much she loves him. “Grandpa, how was your day?”
They say diamonds are a girls’ best friend. Diamonds, huh? I’m not so sure about that. What about chocolate éclairs? A tall nonfat upside-down, caramel macchiato? Surely there are finer things in life that a shiny rock. What about a decadent piece of chocolate, coconut cream pie? Give me a piece of that and I’ll be your friend. In fact, I’ll be the best damn friend you’ve ever had.
I am a master at metamorphosis. Time travel, no biggie. Sex changes, they only take me seconds. I have an infinite number of personalities. Currently, I’m involved with countless lovers. I’m the leader of nations and I’m a wise spider, living in a barn, watching out for a dim pig. I am not a diagnosed psychotic and I don’t suffer hallucinations. I am a reader. Not only do I live in the real world, but I also live in the worlds contained on my bookshelf. Between the covers of my books live some of my very best friends, my most precious memories, and the most exciting chapters of my life. Reading is my escape. In a moments notice I can flee to a faraway land and take up an entirely new life.
“Hellllo, welcome to Starbucks!! My name is Katie, how are you doing today?”
(she smiles) “You know what, you just made my day. You’re the first person to ask me that.”
2:39 pm. May 19, 1991. It’s a girl.